Killed in Kruger

by Denise M. Hartman

  “Oh dear. I don’t have the money yet, hon. I need you to fax the death certificate and police papers or whatever.”

  Tabitha groaned inwardly. Of course—all roads led back to the paperwork.

  Aunt Rose continued. “I know a nice man who used to make wire transfers all the time. He’ll help me.”

  Dear helpless Aunt Rose, Tabitha thought. Even things involving some sort of business transaction required assistance from a man, probably a good-looking one.

  “Okay, Tabs, just let me know the total when you call. My soap is coming on now, I’ll let you go.”

  Tabitha reminded Rose not to tell her mother all the gory details and got off the line. Her family certainly didn’t simplify life any. She’d used up all her coping skills and the day wasn’t over. Tabitha decided to go find a place to get a chip for her American cell phone before she met the police officer Rian Minnaar. It would be fantastic to just call and not worry about calling cards. She was glad too that an officer of the law would be expecting her later. If she went missing, someone might notice. She hoped anyway. She had to resist the urge to write her own crime victim headlines in her head.

  Chapter 21

  Mhlongo watched with satisfaction as the idiot conservationist kid jumped nearly out of his white lily skin. He was sitting at one of the designated picnic areas in a deserted part of the park, watching two elephants in a shrunken watering hole. It was pure pleasure to watch his discomfort.

  “I’m in a designated area, Ranger man. I have a right to be here,” Christopher whined in his American accent.

  “Who said you didn’t?” Mhlongo put a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and lit it. They passed a few minutes in an uncomfortable silence that Mhlongo found satisfying. Finally he said, “Look, I do not know what you are trying to prove, but you need to have better marksmanship.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The chubby American didn’t look up, but turned his attention to his hands.

  “You need to go somewhere and get your gun sighted, so you’re sure you’re shooting true to the sights. You need to lay prone on the ground, since you are a beginner, and take your time.”

  “What are you saying? I’m part of the Schopenhauers. We don’t shoot at animals. And anyway, why would you help someone who kills animals? I could turn you in.”

  “I don’t like to see animals suffer. With your ineptness you’re going to hurt one, and I’ll have to track it to put it out of its misery.”

  “I’m not a poacher, if that’s what you’re saying.” Christopher dared to look up at Mhlongo in defiance, blue eyes flashing under a shock of dark hair hanging low on his forehead. Mhlongo squinted through his cigarette smoke.

  “How long did you have to wait in that tree until the buffalo left you alone? Did it get dark?” Mhlongo enjoyed seeing Christopher turn red, and then even more pale than he was normally.

  “I was just game viewing.”

  “Outside a vehicle with a weapon.”

  Christopher suddenly stood and said, “The park is doing nothing about poaching or helping preserve the habitats of certain animals. Someone has got to start paying attention. The park needs to take action.”

  Despite the way the young man towered over him, Mhlongo felt the power he held over the American—the power of information.

  “Like those giraffe captures that we allow? Where they ship them to other countries?”

  “Exactly. The trauma to the animals isn’t justified.” Mhlongo was tempted to tell him about animal reproduction rates and food availability, but that wasn’t the point of this conversation.

  “Maybe you should harass them instead of making my job difficult. Maybe if you do,” Mhlongo blew out his last puff of smoke, threw the butt to the ground and mashed it more than was necessary, “maybe I won’t turn you in. Then the shippers will complain to the park and get you another voice.”

  Christopher shuffled his loafers in the loose dust beneath the park bench. “It’s an idea,” he said hesitantly. Mhlongo smiled at the back of Christopher’s head and thought how useful this boy could be. “Giraffes die more…quickly if you shoot through the heart.” He turned and walked away.

  Chapter 22

  Tabitha sipped her Sprite and fiddled with the tangerine-toned stars at her earlobes. Would Officer Minnaar show up or would she wind up sitting at a bar with a soda all evening? It wasn’t really a bar, more of a restaurant with a counter along one side for those waiting, but it was near her hotel. Getting the phone chip had taken longer than she’d bargained for, so she’d still only spoken with Aunt Rose. She longed to talk to Jeffrey. In her mind’s eye, she saw him: lean, dark and tall. She smiled because Jeffrey always laughed at her and said he was only tall compared to her petiteness. In truth, Rian was about the same height as Jeffrey’s 5’6”, but a contrast in all other ways—a stocky, well-muscled blond man.

  Of course, the comparison was futile. She pushed it out of her mind. She knew Jeffrey well and had barely met Rian. Jeff hadn’t felt right about this trip. She ran a hand over her eyes, knowing he’d probably been right. Since when was intuition a male function? The trip had turned out to be a fiasco. None of it was her fault, though. Tabitha sighed. What was she after? Not just what had happened to Phillip, but this whole trip to South Africa. She was obsessed. Like she had to prove something. To whom? Was it just travel writing? Or enough money to survive a few more months? Her mind’s idea of what she should be plagued her, but what was it she wanted to be? Good enough would be nice. What did that look like?

  A man with a Panama hat edged in next to her, disturbingly close, interrupting her harassed thoughts. When he removed the hat, it revealed a mostly bald pate with a long fringe that hung nearly to his shoulders. A blond rinse, applied to what was left of his hair, did little to hide his age—mid 50s. Tabitha checked the door, hoping to see Rian Minnaar come to her rescue.

  “American,” the man said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re American. I can spot it a mile away. Though I don’t usually spot them in Nelspruit. At the park, they’re plentiful, depending on the time of year.”

  “You don’t sound particularly South African.” She didn’t hesitate to put the sarcastic emphasis on it. He sounded like he might be from Jersey, actually, and Tabitha didn’t really want to find out. He elbowed her and gave a laugh that sounded like a crow’s cackle.

  “Been here fifteen years and I can’t seem to lose my accent or absorb theirs. Name’s Chuck. Chuck Alonzo, expat.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Tabitha took the hand but didn’t offer her name. “I’ve been up at Kruger.”

  “Yeah. Some good game viewing lately with the spring rains coming late this year.” He sipped a beer with an audible slurp. “Ahh. Feels good at the end of the day, huh? Seen anything besides the animals? Gone for any night safaris?”

  “No night rides. I did watch a giraffe capture.”

  “You’re not mixed up with that Vandenblok crowd, are you?”

  “You know him?”

  “Everyone does.” Chuck appraised her for a moment. “Everyone.”

  “I don’t know him. I just went along on the capture.”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s a slick one.”

  “What do you mean?” Tabitha asked.

  “I think Mr. Vandenblok is double-crossing everyone he can lay his hands on. He’s, what shall we say? He’s a cad.” Alonzo laughed loudly at his own cleverness. “I think you could use the word swindler too.”

  “Swindler?”

  “Yeah. Those captures aren’t exactly cheap and somehow he’s making enough at them to do several relocations a year and live really well in between. Not relocations just within Africa, but even to zoos overseas. The guy has got to be double-dipping—charging both parties for the full cost and the government to boot. I’m not sure what his gimmick is exactly, but I wish I’d thought of it.” He sucked at his beer, shaking his head.

  Tabitha digested this information. Wa
s a story emerging here? Who could she sell it to, even if she did manage to get the right information and sources to back it up? Was one Dutchman making a hefty profit at a few governmental bureaucracies’ expense an issue? She shrugged. Chuck seemed to take it to mean she didn’t care.

  “You might not care, little missy. But I’ve sat here watching myself get poorer in this strange land while watching him year after year…”

  “Miss Cranz?” A voice behind them spoke low. Tabitha turned, relieved to break away from Alonzo’s brooding. “Officer Minnaar, I’m glad you made it.”

  Rian Minnaar gave Alonzo a slight nod. “Shall we get a table?” He steered her through the restaurant to a corner table. “Was the old elephant telling you his life’s story?”

  “Do you know Chuck?”

  “He’s been in for a few drunken charges. Always full of conspiracies against him.” Rian smiled. He still had on the gray uniform that stretched against his beefy shoulders. His round face seemed so open.

  “I was getting the feeling Chuck liked to tell stories.”

  “Which one was it today?”

  “Mostly insults about Vandenblok—the man who does the animal captures. I met him at the park. Is there any truth to Chuck’s stories?”

  “I doubt it. He’s usually drunk when we have him, so we don’t pay close attention to his theories,” Minnaar said.

  A waitress came and they placed dinner orders.

  “Did you make any progress on the paperwork for me?” Tabitha asked.

  “I did indeed.” He reached inside his police jacket and drew out several sheets of paper, folded lengthwise. “Fill these out, fax all of that to the number here,” he pointed, “then you’ll get back a death certificate and a paper that should help you get the remains out of the country. I’m not real clear on that bit, since we aren’t usually dealing with relocating the body overseas. We have a legacy of bureaucracy left over from our British forebears, but now they’re giving jobs to folks who can barely read. It’s made for a touch of chaos in the system overall.”

  “So I shouldn’t expect a turnaround in a day once I fill this in?” A touch of humor showed through in Tabitha’s voice. She reached for her glass and knocked it over. Rian pushed back from the table as the liquid spread across the surface. Tabitha’s hand shot out quickly with a napkin, catching the spill. Her other hand snatched the precious paperwork from the table with only one soggy corner. “Sorry, sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” Rian laughed. “You’re fast with that napkin. You were right on it.”

  “I seem to have been born with two left elbows. I’ve gotten fast at my recovery.”

  Once the mess was cleaned up, Tabitha resumed her seat and asked, “Did you have a chance to ask anyone at the park about the film or the digital camera?”

  “Oh yeah, I called Mpande’s office and left a message. Haven’t heard from him though. I really don’t think you’re going to find the film. The camera body has probably been pawned by now.”

  Tabitha sighed in frustration, fidgeting with her star earrings again. “This doesn’t make sense. My uncle wouldn’t have climbed out of his car with his two film bags and the digital camera. He would have kept the rule about staying in the car, out of respect for the wildlife as well as the park. He wouldn’t jeopardize his shooting opportunities. If he’d gotten out, which I don’t think he would, I would guess he’d only have a camera with him not a bag full of film. All the film cameras were in place.” Tabitha searched deep into the bubbles of her new soda, trying to see the truth.

  “I can see your dilemma, but the film cases may have been the easiest thing for a person to walk off with. I could see someone justifying that it wasn’t stealing, since he was dead. Plus there’d be no use for it.”

  “What?”

  “A lunch container would be of more value to some than an expensive piece of equipment they didn’t know how to use or how to sell. But are you sure he hadn’t taken the film in for development somewhere? You said the digital camera was new, maybe he had problems and took it in somewhere.”

  “I don’t know about that. The film is not at the park anywhere. I haven’t called any of the labs here though.”

  “Well then, it’s worth a shot,” Rian said. “Feel free to call me at the police station, but I want to tell you I’m working on this outside of my official duties. I felt bad about almost hitting you, and I thought maybe helping out an American wouldn’t hurt my standing. It’s really hard to get noticed in my department. Someday, I hope I’ll break a case that would get me a raise and a promotion.”

  “I don’t suppose helping me with paperwork is going to be your big break,” Tabitha said.

  He reached up and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Oh, you’re not so bad. Your green eyes are particularly appealing.”

  His voice was light, but the intimate gesture made Tabitha blush. Awkward. She rubbed a hand against her cheek and adjusted her hair. She sat up straighter and searched for a safe thing to say. “Aren’t there ways to get ahead in the police department?”

  “It’s just so hard here, not much chance of advancement. The rules have changed, and I’m not the right color anymore,” he said without bitterness.

  Tabitha was relieved that he didn’t seem to continue the flirtation. Since she’d landed in this country, she’d been in a position of having to trust strangers. Mister M’s warnings about a lone woman haunted her. She looked at Rian, who chatted and ate with the ease of an old friend.

  They ate and the talk turned to culture. Rian expressed an interest in immigrating to the US, which surprised Tabitha.

  “It’s just that the opportunities here are more limited and crime is on the rise. People lash out in fear before they think. Some think and are cruel anyway. It’s very awkward. It isn’t limited to the white and black conflict either. In the police force, I see that cruelty knows no boundaries.”

  She sensed a tug of war within him between loyalty and practicality.

  “It’s a beautiful country, though,” Tabitha said.

  “Beautiful but dangerous.”

  Chapter 23

  Their footsteps crunched in the dry sandy earth, each scuffling step sounding loud and disturbing. Dust kicked up around them as they scraped the skin off the young giraffe.

  “I can’t believe you’re so bloody stupid.” Johanne grunted between gasps for air. “This one is heavy, must be more than 1,000 kilos.”

  “Who is saying it is me who did this thing? There are other poachers in the park besides Pieter. And there’s that crazy conservationist,” Mhlongo said.

  “Him? He’s pathetic. But you. You were pissed when he sent you off. Your type always get revenge. Stupid arse.” Johanne’s tongue shifted from side to side on his lip as he concentrated on his task.

  “So one more rich man in Austria doesn’t get to kill a giraffe. Does it make a difference to you?”

  “It might to my cut of the money. Pieter is going to go ballistic and I’m going to blame you for it.”

  “Like Pieter would pay you one Rand more than he absolutely has to,” Mhlongo muttered.

  They almost had the skin free of the carrion. Mhlongo made a few more skilled swipes with the knife, then carefully wiped the blade on a rag. He was surprised that Christopher had killed it. He must have taken Mhlongo’s advice. Mhlongo turned to Johanne with arm and knife extended.

  Johanne jumped to his feet, arms out. “Stop that, Mhlongo.” The tremor of fear in his voice made him cough to hide it, but the glint in Mhlongo’s eyes showed he sensed it.

  “I said back off.” Johanne raised his voice.

  “We could make a good team, you and me,” Mhlongo said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “We could sell the pelts and ivory ourselves.”

  Since he hadn’t been killed already, Johanne’s confidence rose. “Shut up, you don’t have the contacts.”

  “You could steal Pieter’s little book, and I would use it to find the right contacts.”<
br />
  “You could never pull it off. Put the knife away, man.” Johanne, in a show of bravery, started to turn away.

  Mhlongo darted at Johanne, slitting his shirt open and leaving a minor scrape on the skin of his abdomen. Johanne shoved full force at Mhlongo, pushing him over backward. The much bigger man sprang upon Mhlongo. A dust cloud rose around them as they wrestled for the knife.

  Mhlongo threw the weapon into the tall grass nearby and began laughing into Johanne’s face. Johanne froze in place.

  “You are a big man only in your body. I would not hurt you. You might change your mind about going into business together and steal the baas man’s contacts.” Mhlongo laughed again, his yellow eyes narrowing in contradiction to his mirth.

  Chapter 24

  Armed with the phone book and a cup of coffee in her hotel room, Tabitha bemoaned the fact she could never seem to find wi-fi. But she had narrowed down the places that might possibly process E-6 film to a short list of three, and one of them was a maybe. They seemed like the most likely place for a repair on a digital as well, since they were the most serious photography places. She knew Phillip was picky about taking his equipment in for cleanings and repair. If he was so careful, what could have made him get out of the truck? Her mind filled with bandits and wild animals, but no sudden answers came. She picked up the phone.

  Her calls revealed one was a disconnected number and one lab didn’t do E-6 processing. Neither held a camera repair for Adkins. Tabitha held her breath as she dialed the last number, expecting to strike out but hoping for some help. The man who answered had a dancing accent that was reminiscent of India. She explained her dilemma and found that they could develop the film she’d shot but didn’t have any rolls on hold or cameras for Phillip Adkins. She got directions to the lab and hung up the phone.

  She bit at her bottom lip and looked at Phillip’s bag crouched in the corner of her hotel room. Tabitha dumped everything out of the bag onto the bed and started sorting through it once more. She willed her eyes to see with Phillip’s perspective. Where might a roll of film get tucked away? She moved quickly, anxious to get back out to the park. There, at least, she felt like she could meet people he met, walk in his footsteps and possibly find out what had happened to cause him to leave the truck.