Killed in Kruger

by Denise M. Hartman

  After they returned to the table, Daniel said, “What took you to the offices of Skukuza today, Miss Tabitha? Not many tourists have need of them.”

  Tabitha set her fork down and wiped her mouth. Her first bite of buffalo was good, but her stomach jumped, thinking of Phillip. “It’s awful, but my uncle is missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “They found his car on an unauthorized dirt road after they’d found his room un-slept in on Tuesday night. I can’t imagine what’s happened to him.”

  Daniel nodded, chewing his food carefully. His large hands seemed to overwhelm the silverware. He didn’t look up.

  “Does this sort of thing happen very often?” she asked.

  “No. This is quite unusual.”

  His lack of words struck Tabitha harder than if he had said what he was thinking. This reinforced her fears. “You think something has happened to him?”

  “No, I don’t know what has occurred.”

  “What is it, then?” Tabitha fiddled with her fork.

  “The bush is very dangerous. You cannot stay out there long without problems.”

  He voiced what Tabitha knew in her heart to be true, but surely a big man with lots of life experiences like Phillip, an outdoorsman, would have a better chance than most. She hoped.

  “I’m sorry to trouble you.”

  “It’s not your fault, Daniel. You spoke the truth,” Tabitha said.

  They ate in silence for a moment. A table nearby erupted in laughter, startling Tabitha.

  “I will pray that your uncle is found.”

  “Thank you,” Tabitha said, shivering.

  Later, Tabitha collapsed into bed and curled into a ball. Tomorrow she would go demand another search party. Something had to happen. A soft rain patted the thatch above her head. In a strange country, in a strange bed, in a strange predicament. Tabitha thought it could be a great adventure, if she just knew Uncle Phillip was okay.

  Chapter 6

  The bush had cooled fast after the sun dropped below the horizon. The African summer had not yet arrived; for that matter, neither had the spring rains. The arid strain of drought hung in the air.

  Pieter grabbed the small Bantu man by the front of the shirt. The eerie glow from the gas lantern on the ground threw a green cast across both of them. The tall white man wore khaki civilian clothes and the little man a park uniform.

  Pieter spoke through clenched teeth. “I say when you take my lorry, Mhlongo.” He let go of the black man so suddenly that he almost fell. “I am the baas.”

  Mhlongo said, “Yeah, man. You baas. I just…”

  “You just what? What exactly did you need my transport lorry for?”

  The flexing of the African man’s jaw was almost imperceptible in the dim light. He smoothed his uniform and looked up, eyes glaring. “I just needed to drop something off for Sy. I didn’t want trouble with Sy.” He looked down again quickly.

  “I can handle the trouble, and I decide when people are a problem, and I decide when MY equipment is used. Have you got that?” Pieter’s voice raised with each phrase.

  “Yeah, man.” Mhlongo stood for a moment, smoothing his shirt. Then he moved silently away down a footpath. He pulled a revolver from his pants, glancing over his shoulder at Pieter, but rushed through the dark towards a waiting car.

  Pieter turned towards the lamplight. A large white Afrikaner sat by a propane burner, stifling his laughter. “Stupid kafir. They always think they can run the show when you’re not looking.” Johanne de Wyk’s mirth overcame him, but his bulk did not jiggle with the laughter. The stocky blond man was made of muscle.

  “I’ve hired imbeciles. You ignorant boer,” Pieter muttered.

  “I’m not the one who just ran scared through the bush.”

  “But Johanne, you knew Mhlongo was taking the lorry. You didn’t stop him.”

  “What could I do? Shoot the man?” Johanne snorted. “Ease up, Pieter.”

  Pieter’s jaw clenched. “I will not ease up. Now, I must think. Leave me be.”

  Pieter turned his attention to a map anchored to the ground with rocks near the light. The lantern’s glow showed lines he had marked, where giraffe groups had been spotted lately. A German client wanted some animals soon. Pieter didn’t like anything to do with his operation getting mixed up with Sy. He didn’t know what Sy was up to; something unsavory usually. It was nothing to do with him, but it could bring unwanted attention. Pieter studied the map. If they went to the north to Tshokwane, a strong giraffe family group could be caught. If the rains held off a few more days, he might be able to manage it.

  Pieter stood to go. He could sense Johanne’s anger but didn’t care.

  “You stay with the equipment tonight, de Wyk.”

  “No way I’m staying out in the bush at night.”

  “Oh, yes you will. Take time in the dark to think about what I need you to do.”

  “You didn’t make Mhlongo stay out.”

  “I need him. You are muscles, not brains.”

  Johanne answered with a snort.

  Chapter 7

  Tabitha woke early, and showered and dressed quickly in an orange wrap-around shirt and khakis. She tried to shake the tension that had settled in her shoulders. Where could Phillip be, and how could she find him by herself?

  She had intended to walk the roads around to the offices, but after hearing Daniel’s fears about the bush she wasn’t so sure. She had to find a way to smooth out shifting gears with her left hand and staying on the wrong side of the road.

  First she walked over to the buildings in the center of the camp. At the snack bar, she purchased a piece of toast and some jam. It was all her stomach could face at the moment, but she needed something to settle it. A gray sky promised possible rain and kept the temperatures mild. A uniformed park staff member approached her table.

  “Ms. Cranz?”

  Tabitha’s heart skipped a beat. Why would a park official seek her out? “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Can you please come?”

  Tabitha followed the young man to a car and he drove her around to the offices. Her hands shook and she clasped them in her lap. The man said nothing as he escorted her into Michael Waggener’s office again. The silence made her uncomfortable. This time only Souli was in the office. The wiry black man stood near the desk, rubbing his cheek.

  “Ms. Cranz, please take a seat.” He stood up straighter. Tabitha noticed he was only a couple of inches taller than her five foot and one inch. He looked uncomfortable, and Tabitha seemed to know what was coming. She felt her chin quiver.

  “From time to time in the park, we have an accident. The animals aren’t accustomed to human beings on foot and…”

  Tabitha interrupted Souli. “What’s happened to him?”

  “I’m afraid he may be dead, Miss.”

  “Dead?” Tabitha had imagined badly harmed but not dead. She sat back in her chair and struggled to take a deep breath. It was like the air had been knocked out of her. “But he’s such a strong man.”

  “We can’t be sure it’s him until we have you identify some of his things. Though I should tell you, the body was found only a few kilometers from where the bakkie was located by the rangers.” Souli reached down beside the desk and pulled up a canvas satchel. Tabitha stood and held the edge of the desk. Souli opened the bag. A watch spilled out; the crystal looked as though it had been punctured. A tattered photographer’s vest emerged next. Souli tried to hide the back of it where the shredded khaki material had been stained. Blood? Tabitha wondered. A tear spilled down her cheek. She swallowed hard. Cleared her throat.

  “I can’t be sure. I mean he did have a watch similar to this and a vest like that but most photographers do…” Her voice cracked. She wanted to be strong. Phillip was so strong and he had believed in her as a writer. She pushed back a sob. Souli reached into the bag again and pulled out a baseball cap with a Nascar emblem on it.

  Tabitha sat down. She had purchased the cap for Phi
llip on his last birthday and had his name, Adkins, embroidered on the back of it. Her hand shook as she reached out to take the hat from him. She turned it around and crumpled it in her hands. She nodded.

  “This is his, then? I’m sorry for you. It is very difficult.” He was quiet for a moment as Tabitha searched for a tissue and cleaned her face, trying to regain control. It seemed far away.

  “I know this is hard for you.”

  “Should I see him? The body, I mean.” Her chin quaked in mutiny of her slight control.

  “It’s best not. He is in very bad shape. The animals don’t leave a very pretty sight behind them.”

  “Animals? He was…” Tears slipped down Tabitha’s cheeks and she felt her face pucker.

  Souli pursed his lips. “There was damage to the body, yes.”

  Tabitha looked at the tissue in her hand, and felt a tear slide off her chin. She swiped it away and swallowed hard. “Okay, what do I need to do?” She didn’t meet his eye. She couldn’t.

  “There is no rush. His body is in our research morgue so it is safe now, but I will get you papers and you can make arrangements. ”

  Tabitha nodded.

  The fatigue from the jet lag seemed to rob her of even small scraps of self-control. She wasn’t usually a crybaby, but then again she didn’t usually come to a foreign country to find out her favorite uncle had been eaten by wild animals. It was so unreal.

  Souli called someone who led her out to a park vehicle and drove her back to the tourist side of the camp. In the rondavel, she laid the vest, watch and cap on Phillip’s luggage and lay down for a good cry.

  <><><>

  She woke up in the afternoon with a sense of confusion, before everything rushed in on her again. It didn’t seem like this could happen, that this could be real. She sat up gummy-eyed from crying and decided she must take action. She wouldn’t let this trip come to nothing. She would stay. This would not be a waste of Phillip’s efforts or of hers. He wouldn’t have wanted that. She would find a way to unravel what had happened to her uncle, and she would fulfill their contracts. She knew he would not have disregarded park rules. Something had happened to get him out of that truck. But what?

  Fifteen minutes later she was at the bank of telephones by the visitors’ center, armed with her phone card.

  “Aunt Rose?” She heard her own voice echo on the line.

  “Tabitha, darling. How are you? What are you doing calling me from this strange number? You’re supposed to be in Africa.”

  “I am.”

  “Didn’t you say your nice cell phone would work from there? I have a funny number on here.” Tabitha could see her squinting through her aqua half-glasses.

  “Well, it would be a different number anyway, but I haven’t got a chip for my phone yet.” Tabitha closed her eyes. This would all be so much easier if she’d taken time to do that. “I actually meant to call you yesterday and ask you something. Look, I have some bad news.” The echo on the line drove her crazy. It was hard to hear. She closed her eyes to concentrate. Don’t cry, she told herself.

  “Oh, no. Are you okay?” Concern showed in Aunt Rose’s voice.

  “I’m all right.” Tabitha sniffed. “It’s Phillip. He’s, uh, had an accident and he’s, uh, dead.”

  “No! Did you say dead?”

  “Afraid so.” Tabitha swallowed hard, leaning into the pay phone. “Can you find out…” She stopped to clear her throat and swallow hard. “Who his next of kin would be and what they would want me to do?”

  “Oh. I suppose I could.” Her usually lilty voice seemed to wilt. “He was always my favorite husband.”

  Even in her grief, Tabitha got tickled at this. “Aunt Rose, you divorced him, like, fifteen years ago.”

  “I know, but out of all of them he was nicest. I think he still loved me.”

  “He never remarried. Why’d you divorce him if he was the nicest?” Tabitha waited out the echo of her own voice.

  “He was nice, but he was really only interested in what interested him. Photography was his life, and he didn’t like that to be inconvenienced, especially not for a marriage. Oh, that’s so sad.”

  “Look, I can hear myself talking. I’ll call you back in a couple of hours. See what you can find out.”

  Tabitha used the time to get some lunch and to pack up her uncle’s belongings, going through everything to search for clues as to why he would have gotten out of the truck. She stood debating whether to throw the vest out or pack it to take home. The chewed places on the back were horrible to see. She sorted through the pockets in the front that were miraculously still intact. She pulled a roll of film and some filters out of the left side, and a lens cloth out of the right side, with a stack of signed releases giving permission to print photographs of people.

  She found nothing that shed light on what had happened. He had brought the new digital camera to do some of the work, but he still preferred film. Piles of film were missing. Somehow she had to find his last work and get it published in tribute to him. She would not let his efforts be in vain. A tear slid down her cheek. She found nothing that shed light on what had happened. She swiped at the tear. Crying would not help things.

  She decided she deserved a candy bar, and ate the better part of a Tobelrone on the way to the area by the shop. Tabitha had checked the shop for a chip for her cell phone but they didn’t carry them. It would be nice not to have these terribly personal conversations in the middle of the campground. She faced the phones again, punching in the numbers. The line was clean this time with no echo.

  “So, Aunt Rose, what’d you find out?” Tabitha asked.

  “Well, it’s been hard tracking anyone down. Since he never remarried there’s no other woman to go to, you know?” Tabitha thought of Jeffrey and realized if things didn’t work out, he could end up with some “other woman.” A painful thought she pushed away. “Phillip’s brother is just like him, so busy with his own interests that he never married or had kids either. He asked me to deal with it because he’s doing some big merger deal at his company and can’t be bothered.”

  “Well, he sounds like a real sweetie. He can’t even be bothered for his brother’s death? What are we supposed to do?” Tabitha fanned herself with her little address book. The humidity was climbing.

  “He makes Phil look like a saint. Anyway, I ran over to Phillip’s and my old key still fit the lock. Can you believe it? I found papers of some medical insurance and some life insurance policy thingee. He still kept them in the same desk drawer.”

  “What’d they say? Did you call them?”

  “You’ll never believe this, Tabitha. The old geezer still had me as his beneficiary on the policy.” Rose broke down with a case of the sniffles.

  Tabitha waited, holding back her own grief. The circumstances were rocketing out of her control. She wanted to do the right thing for Phillip. She turned to lean on the other side of the phone. “I know it’s sad, but I need you to be strong and tell me what they said. I don’t want you to get me started crying again.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m all right.” Rose took an audible breath. “Okay. Well, they’ll have to call me back tomorrow with all the details, but can you fax me a death certificate and a police report since it’s a foreign country? It’s a pretty good-sized policy, so I’ll just cover his funeral expenses out of that. Maybe since you’re already there you could act on my behalf and arrange everything to send him back.” She paused here for a good sniff. “You take care of it all for me, sweetie, okay?”

  Tabitha hadn’t really thought through that she would have to do the legwork on funeral arrangements. She had expected to make a couple of phone calls. Now she could see it only made sense because she was on hand. “What do you want me to do with him?”

  “Whatever you think best, honey. Really, it’ll be just fine. I trust your judgment. I need to go. I’ve got a beautician’s appointment.”

  Dear Aunt Rose. If Uncle Phillip was only interested photography, Rose was only int
erested in beauty and decorating. “Okay, Aunt Rose. I’ll let you go.”

  Tabitha sat down on a nearby bench. She bit at a cuticle. She had no idea how to begin. First Phillip disappeared, now Aunt Rose wanted her to make all the arrangements. She might feel inadequate for the tasks ahead, but Tabitha wasn’t about to admit it to anyone.

  The sunlight was waning when she got to the parking lot and the truck. She decided to do a thorough search of the bed of the truck.

  Tabitha popped the back of the truck cover open and climbed onto the bumper. Halfway in, swinging her leg over the tailgate, she smacked her knee on the metal and fell into the bed of the truck with a groan. Oh yeah, that’s going to be one heck of a bruise. She lay there a moment rubbing her knee, wondering how her life had gotten so complicated. A tear slipped from her eye and rolled into her hair. She groaned, “Oh God.” Then she thought maybe she should bring the big guy upstairs into the picture. Maybe God could shed some light on the situation. She certainly couldn’t. Tabitha brushed away the tear and the thoughts. She rolled over, kneeling with a wince. The sun was already approaching the horizon. In the dim light, she felt the nylon compartments outlining the 500mm lens. The crazy thing was as long as one of her short legs. She wrestled it around but still found no film, no digital camera, no cards. As she fought her way through the last bag in almost complete darkness, she heard chuckling. She peeked out the ventilation windows on the side of the bed cover and saw some park employees trying not to look at her. Tabitha grinned. Yep, a certified looney, that’s me.

  She climbed carefully out of the truck and wound her way back over the camp to the restaurant. The camp gates were closed for the night; even if she wanted to or could think of a way, she just couldn’t fix the situation tonight. She would have to deal with missing film and her uncle’s body tomorrow.

  Chapter 8

  Sy and Mhlongo circled like two boxers sizing each other up. Sy had the build of a scrawny former junkie, and was taller than the well-muscled but short Mhlongo.