“Yes! The same age as the child that Maddy and Neville tried to adopt,” replied Jade.
“Did this lady know that the baby was, in fact, left behind?”
“No, but I’m not one to believe in coincidences. There aren’t that many children available for adoption anymore. And both of these just happen to be the same sex and age.”
They stood to the side of the Standard’s stone building, out of the general foot traffic. Both of them pondered the possibilities for a few moments before Sam broke the silence.
“Let’s assume then, for the moment, that you’re correct. That it’s the same child. It doesn’t prove that Alice Stokes was murdered. Maybe she abandoned both husband and child.”
Jade frowned. “It’s possible, and Stokes didn’t want the baby, so, after he tried unsuccessfully to find his wife, he gave it up for adoption. But that doesn’t fit the timing. True, he could have mailed the notice to the paper before he was killed, but who sent in the more recent notice that the baby was already taken? By then, he’d been dead for several days. No, my bet is that she handed the baby off to keep it safe, then ran away herself.”
“That would mean there was someone else involved, at least with the baby,” said Sam. “Maybe that person had already handed off the child to another couple or to a mission.”
“That’s possible,” agreed Jade. “Or what about this idea? Stokes killed his wife, posted the ad seeking information to cover his tracks, but someone found out and killed him for it.”
“What about the kid?”
Jade shrugged. “He probably gave it away earlier. The notices for the adoption might not have been from him.”
“Maybe he was holding the child hostage to bring back his runaway wife, and she killed him,” said Sam. “That woman at the Standard said he had liquid in his lungs?” Jade nodded. “Well, there you have it,” he said.
“Have what?” asked Jade.
“She pushed him in a horse trough. They still have them around here despite all the automobiles.” He extended his arms in a “ta-dah” motion to emphasize his point.
“But he wouldn’t drown right away,” said Jade. “She’d have had to hold him under for a while, and that suggests the strength of a man, not of a woman.”
“Then maybe she had an accomplice who killed him for her. Women have been known to hire someone to finish off a husband.”
Jade shuddered as she thought of one in particular and the murder that first brought her to Africa after the Great War. “Possibly. And she took back her child,” Jade finished. “But the woman hinted that this liquid wasn’t ordinary water. And why run the ad?”
“That is confusing,” agreed Sam. “It would certainly help if we each knew what happened in our respective interviews with Finch.”
“You’re right, Sam. I may have to wait until tomorrow to read Maddy’s or Neville’s material, but for reasons that will become clearer when we . . . um . . . accidentally exchange notebooks later, I don’t think either of them will have much to offer.”
“I don’t know. Madeline looked awfully upset.”
“Probably just knowing Stokes was murdered would make her upset,” said Jade. “And it’s one thing to hear about it. It’s another to actually find the body in your coffee dryer. I think it’s time we each found out what the other knows. Will you please take me home to the Dunburys’? We can write in our journals there and accidentally pick up the wrong one later.”
They walked back to the police station, where Sam had left his Indian motorcycle, an olive drab model used during the Great War. It had originally lacked the second seat that Jade’s had, but Sam had engineered one over the rear wheel. Jade again climbed on after Sam, wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tightly.
Just as in the airplane, the cycle’s noise didn’t allow for much conversation. Not that there was much time to say anything during the short, three-mile run to the Dunburys’ Parklands estate—besides an “oof” said everything that needed to be said concerning the street’s sad condition.
Jade invited Sam into the parlor and headed to the exterior kitchen to see about some coffee. No one else was around. Avery and Beverly kept telling Jade to hire some of the native Kikuyu as cook and maids and general help, but Jade felt she was never home enough to warrant a full staff, or even one person for that matter. The only one she would have welcomed was Jelani, the Kikuyu boy who’d impressed her with his bravery and quick intelligence when she had first arrived in Africa. She’d taught him to read and write, then sent him back to his village to study with the old shaman. No, she didn’t want Jelani to be anyone’s house servant. Occasionally she hired someone to tend the grounds, and was grateful for the solitude once they were gone. Naturally this meant Bev’s roses were suffering from neglect. Maybe I’ll prune back the dead canes later this evening.
Jade returned after a short while to the parlor with two mugs of steaming coffee and set one in front of Sam. He had already found the ink bottle and a pen and was well under way writing his own account. Jade, who preferred a sharp pencil, took out her own newest leather journal and flipped past the pages concerning the animal captures.
At first she wasn’t certain where or how to begin, so she started with a brief summary of observations she’d made the day before. That freed her mind up enough that she could recall almost verbatim her conversation with Finch. When she was finished, she tossed the notebook on the low ebony table next to Sam’s book.
“I need to get to work, Sam, and I know you need to get back, too.”
Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and let his head droop. “You want me to go?”
Jade wondered if men practiced that “lost puppy look” or if it came naturally to them. She smiled and slipped her hand around his arm. “Stop that, Sam. You’ll make me feel like a heartless beast that turns strays out in the cold.”
He grinned and leaned close. “So does that mean you’ll take me in?”
Jade looked into his coffee brown eyes and felt her face flush. Like the African night, his gaze seemed to contain all sensual feeling, enough to make her heart race and her knees quiver. The thought that someone could have that much influence over her emotions made her uncomfortable. She never was one for letting people or situations control her life, and ever since she’d met Sam, she’d felt as though she’d lost part of that control. What scared her the most was the temptation, at times, to turn it all over to him.
Jade squeezed his arm gently and released it. “You don’t need me to take you in,” she said, stepping to the side. “You have a movie to make and a plane to tend to, and I have film to develop and I want to check on the leopard cubs and pick up my Graflex.”
He folded his arms across his chest, a pose Jade had come to call his “serious and imperious male” posture, one that made her hackles rise. “I don’t think you should go wandering back into Nairobi tonight, Jade. I’ll take you to the animal compound if you want and stay until you’re finished.”
“It’s perfectly safe, Sam. The animals are all in cages.”
“I’m not worried about the animals. There’s a murderer on the loose.”
Jade had to admit she hadn’t thought about that. “Surely you don’t think I’m in any danger. Whoever killed Stokes most likely had a personal grudge against him. For all we know, it was his partner. You said that Berryhill looked angry about the missing funds. There’s no reason for anyone to be after me.” She studied his face to see if he knew something she didn’t, something revealed in his journal. Well, she’d read it first to find out. “I won’t stay late.”
“Define ‘late.’ ”
Jade clenched her jaw, biting back a retort. “I’ll be home just after sunset. And I’ll take my rifle if it makes you feel any better.”
Sam let his hands drop to his sides. “You can’t fire your rifle in town anymore.” He reached for her and took her by the arms. “Stay home. I’ll pick you up here and take you to the fair tomorrow. I could come by early.”
> Something about the way he said “early” made Jade’s heart beat double-time. Better not risk temptation. “I’m going out and I’ll meet you at the fairgrounds tomorrow,” she said. “You won’t have room for me on your cycle with your film equipment.”
Sam sighed. “You’re a cruel lady, Jade del Cameron, breaking a serviceman’s heart this way.” He let his hands slide down her arms in a caress.
Jade’s skin tingled at his touch. Maybe he can stay for just a little while longer.
“That Anderson fellow can handle the cubs,” murmured Sam as he bent to nuzzle her ear.
Jade tilted her head, allowing him access to her neck. Sam’s mustache tickled the sensitive skin just under her jaw. Her eyelids drifted down, shutting out everything but his touch as her own hands felt their way up his arms. He needed to go, but Jade was having a hard time remembering why. Something she’d once learned about nice girls.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Damn,” muttered Sam in her ear.
He released her and she ran to the foyer, grateful the temptation had been removed. Jade half expected to see Inspector Finch coming to arrest them.
“Wayne,” she said when she saw Anderson, “has something happened?”
Sam came up behind Jade. “Anderson,” he said, a growl edging his voice.
Jade jabbed her elbow into Sam’s ribs.
“Featherstone, fancy seeing you here.” Anderson gave a curt nod, then ignored Sam entirely. “Brought back your big camera, and the boss needs you at the compound.”
“Thanks. I was just about to head out,” said Jade. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Bob is trying to train some of the hired natives to take care of the cubs, and he wants you to show ’em how it’s done.” He set her Graflex on a chair.
In other words, thought Jade, everyone’s afraid of getting scratched or peed on.
“Tell Mr. Perkins that I’ll be right there, please.”
“I can drive you in,” said Anderson.
“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’ve got my motorcycle.” She smiled, trying to look polite and grateful without appearing encouraging.
Anderson spared a quick glance at Sam, frowned, and nodded at Jade. “All right then, Jade. I’ll wait for you in case your motorcycle doesn’t kick in right away.” He walked slowly back to his truck and leaned against it.
Jade rolled her eyes and turned away from the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Sam.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t forget the journal.”
“Right. I’ll be at the grand stand at half past seven.”
Sam reached for her journal on the table, and Jade deliberately turned away to get her Winchester. When she returned, he’d left, allowing them both the chance to maintain their facade that he’d grabbed the wrong notebook. Jade shoved the other one into her day pack along with her camera equipment, locked the door, and headed out to her motorcycle.
The 1915 Indian Big Twin had a second seat, but Jade had installed a rack over it from which draped a set of panniers. She put her pack in one, slung her rifle over her back, pulled on a set of goggles, and kick-started the engine. It responded immediately, testimony to her careful maintenance. She waved her right hand in the air, a signal for Anderson to lead the way. While she didn’t really want to eat his dust, she didn’t like someone at her back either.
THE ANIMAL COMPOUND was set up in one of the large warehouses that had cropped up along the railroad tracks. The buildings were initially intended for a lumberyard, but the warehouse’s owner had filed for bankruptcy in a year’s time and left everything to the city managers in return for an end to his debt. Perkins and Daley had immediately seen the advantage to being so close to the railroad when it came time to ship the animals to Mombassa and a waiting freighter. The fact that the warehouse was also near a poultry and pig slaughterhouse made getting meat for the carnivores that much easier. It also meant Jade could smell the location long before she saw it. She pulled her motorcycle up on the far end of the vehicle line and cut the engine.
“Ah, Miss del Cameron. Good, you’re here,” said Perkins. “You did such a keen job earlier today that I wanted you to demonstrate to the crew how it’s done.” They walked past an open trough full of cattle dip used to treat the herbivores for mange and went inside.
“You mean they haven’t been fed since this morning?” asked Jade, aghast.
“I fed them at noon,” said Anderson.
“You see,” said Perkins as he drew Jade aside, “a few of the men seem to be a bit superstitious about this pair. They seem to respect you, so I thought if you showed them it’s all right, they’d stop balking.”
Jade looked at the men, primarily Kikuyu, hoping to recognize someone from Jelani’s village. She saw the young man she’d interviewed more than a year ago concerning Gil Worthy’s death. “Wachiru,” she said, calling him by name, “how good it is to see you.”
They exchanged pleasantries in “kitchen Swahili,” which all the Kikuyu spoke, but which the other Americans did poorly. Knowing the language afforded Jade a degree of privacy. After she inquired after Wachiru’s family and that of the other men from the village, she pursued the matter with the leopard cubs. “Bwana Perkins says no one will feed the chui totos. Is this true?”
Wachiru, acting as spokesman for the group, replied again in Swahili, “We are not afraid of the totos, Simba Jike, but the big leopard watches us when we touch them. His eyes, they glow with his hatred, and he attacks the cage when we wrap them up.”
Jade nodded. “I understand. Then we must move the totos so he does not see them.” She wondered why no one had thought of such an obvious solution. Then it came to her. Because they never asked the men what the trouble was. They just assumed they were afraid of the cubs.
She explained the problem and the solution to the Americans. “It makes more sense to put the cubs over by the goats anyway,” she said. “Then you don’t have to carry their meal so far once you’ve milked the nanny.” After the cubs and their pen were relocated away from the other carnivores, she once again demonstrated on the scrappy female how to feed and clean them. Wachiru followed her example with the more docile brother and everyone laughed to see how eagerly the little fellow attacked the bag of milk.
“You need some baby bottles,” said Jade. “This bag is getting ripped by their teeth.”
“I’ll send Frank out to buy some,” said Perkins. “Thanks for the help. What did you ever do to get so much respect from those men?”
“I once killed a hyena that was bothering them, that’s all.”
“Really? What is that they call you?”
“Simba Jike, ‘lioness.’ ” She changed the subject by asking what their plans were for tomorrow. Both Cutter and Anderson came up to listen. Cutter had changed his trousers, but the aroma of polecat still clung to his shoes. Anderson took three steps away, waving his hands in front of his nose.
“Since that big agricultural fair starts tomorrow,” said Perkins, “we thought we should take advantage of the crowd to see if anyone else has animals to sell. That’s a lot easier than rounding them up on our own. Maybe locate some ostrich. We’re also having trouble filling the order for a young rhino. Do you think that pilot friend of yours could go up and scout around for us? If we knew where to go, it would sure save us a lot of time.”
“I’m certain Sam would do the job, but you’ll have to haggle payment with him. The cost of fuel’s gone up with the shortage. But he’ll be at the fair, too, so you can ask him yourself. In the meantime, what do you want me to do?”
“Now that the men are feeding the cubs, we don’t need you right now. But we will in a day or two to help wrangle into the trucks those zebra your friends caught. And we’re taking them up on that big lion of theirs. We’ll need your help with him, too.”
“I’ll let the Thompsons know,” said Jade. “Well, if that’s it, I’m going to take some pictures of the stock. Have you given any more thought
about my writing up an article for you?”
“Certainly. The story of how we safely captured these animals and all the pictures will be a great asset to us. We’ll have copies sent out to circuses and zoos all over the States. Should bring us a lot of business.”
Jade went back to her motorcycle and retrieved her Kodak and a magnesium-powder-flash apparatus. First she photographed the leopard kittens outside; then she asked Wachiru to help her move an empty crate in position to use as a support for setting up a flash shot. She wanted a photo of the myriad animals in the warehouse, or at least one corner of it.
“How is Jelani?” Jade arranged the camera and the flash powder. “Does he still study with the mundu-mugo?” she asked, calling the village healer by his title. Jade directed Wachiru to turn his eyes away from the bright flare as she took her picture.
“I have not been back to the village.” Wachiru waved away the residual white smoke and fingered his kipande. “I cannot go back yet or I will be arrested for not working and for not paying my hut tax.”
Jade moved the camera and set up her next shot while she considered Wachiru’s statement. When the colonists first arrived, they thought they’d found a wealth of labor in the local tribes. They quickly discovered that the natives weren’t interested in the colonists’ money. It held no value to them. Besides, they had their own shambas to cultivate. So, in order to make the natives work for them, the British decided to make the men pay a hut tax. There was, Jade admitted, some justification in that. Part of that tax paid for soldiers who patrolled and protected the agrarian tribes from the raiding tribes, but the tax quickly became a monster.
If a man had more than one wife, each with her own hut, and an aging parent unable to work, he might have to pay four hut taxes. And while the men were only required to work six months out of the year, it was often the same six months they needed for their own farm plots. Since most of the men worked on farms far from their villages, they could not go home daily to their families. The wives at home carried the full burden of village work alone, and many of the men took up with temporary wives to cook for them while they were away from home. Other men never went back home. The missionaries wrote letters in the newspaper decrying the breakdown of the tribe’s social life and the decline in the birth rate, but the letters usually fell on deaf ears.
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