The Leopard's Prey

by Suzanne Arruda

  Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he stood. “Thank you for your consideration,” he said. “It seems I have little choice.”

  Which was why, sitting on the bunk in what was nothing more than a jail cell, Sam wanted to punch his fist into the wall. Instead, he flipped the mattress over in case there were lice, tossed the pillow to the floor, and rolled up his dinner jacket to use in its place. He didn’t bother to dismantle his artificial leg before retiring.

  I’ll be damned if I let him see me as anything less than a whole man.

  JADE GOT UP again at five, pulled her old ambulance corps skirt on over her trousers, left a note on Maddy’s bag, and rode off to the mission on her motorcycle. The early-morning air felt cool and refreshing on her face, the speed good. Biscuit had chirped and strained at his lead, begging to run alongside her, but Jade decided the Fathers didn’t need a cheetah interrupting their Sunday. Instead, she left Biscuit tethered in the backyard with a chicken carcass for breakfast.

  Jade took the Kikuyu Road south and cut east at the Nairobi River. From there she followed the river, avoiding the roads and relishing the open grasslands. She crossed the dry tributary, puttered into the mission’s coffee plantation, and rode past the convent and school grounds to the church. As she dismounted, she adjusted her skirt so that it hid her trousers above the boots. Then she slipped a scarf over her head and went inside.

  After mass Father Jacquinet invited her to breakfast, but Jade declined, albeit with some regret as she thought about the fresh breads, jams, clotted cream, and the Father’s wonderful coffee. She explained that she needed to get home and on to the Thompsons’ house before the zoological crew arrived. Besides, she was anxious to find Sam and ask what had happened to him.

  “Are you certain you do not have time for perhaps a petite visit?” Farther Jacquinet asked, holding his thumb and index finger a few millimeters apart.

  She pulled out her pocket watch and checked the time. Seven forty-five. Madeline and Neville would possibly still be abed on a Sunday morning, and something told her she wouldn’t see Sam there either. “Perhaps there is time for just one cup of coffee,” she said.

  “Bon!” exclaimed Father Jacquinet, as he led the way to the refectory.

  Inside the cool dining area, Jade helped the younger Father Duflot set the table while Father Jacquinet assisted the more infirm, older Father Robidoux to a seat. Jade was sorry to see that the old priest had declined so much physically since she last saw him, but was glad to note the alert expression in his soft blue eyes. His mind, at least, had not aged.

  They said grace and broke their long fast on warm bread and jam. Jade regaled them with her adventures in Marrakech, but she could have recited the merits of her motorcycle and they would have been just as happy as long as it was in French rather than in Swahili or English.

  “It is good that you helped the old woman in Tangier to go back to France,” said Father Robidoux. “But selling the Panhard? Bah! That was a mistake, mademoiselle. That is a fine French automobile.”

  “True, but I find my Indian Big Twin much more practical,” she replied.

  “And now? What do you do now?” asked Father Jacquinet.

  Jade told them about her writing and her extra job working for Perkins and Daley. She spoke about Sam and flying, and about the most recent problems. “Did you know this Mr. Stokes?” she asked. “Did he deliver food or supplies here?”

  Father Robidoux shrugged. “Sometimes, but I never spoke with him. He came, he delivered, we paid him, he left. Voilà.” Then he smiled and his eyes seemed to twinkle. “And so,” he said in a cracked voice, “you have yet another puzzle to solve.”

  “Why do you think, Father, that this is a puzzle for me to solve?”

  “Perhaps I am a bit of a detective myself, no? You tell us of this Mr. Featherstone, who helped you and your mother in Morocco. And you tell us of rides in his flying machine. Then you say that the police think he may be a suspect.” He chuckled. “You will not let them accuse this young man. Oh, no.” He smeared jam on another chunk of bread and bit into it, still chuckling.

  Jade blushed. “Sam and I are friends, Father. Of course I do not wish to see him accused. And yes, I’m trying to assist, but I don’t know what else I can do.”

  “You have already said you must find out where the coffee dryer stood,” said Father Duflot. “Perhaps there is a tank of this animal dip nearby? You will play like the great French detective, M. Edmond Locard, no? You will search for the hairs, and the buttons, and the faint but telling footprints. And do not forget there is planning in covering up this crime.”

  “Yes,” said Jade, “slitting the wrist and adding animal blood to make it appear to be a suicide.” She looked at the mantelpiece clock and noted the time. “Nine o’clock! Oh, dear, I must be on my way,” she said. “Thank you so much for the delightful breakfast.”

  “Please be certain to let us meet this young man soon,” Father Robidoux said as Jade excused herself. “Bring him next Sunday,” he called to her back.

  SAM LEFT THE police headquarters as soon as someone opened the door for him at six thirty. He felt as if bugs were crawling all over his legs. Damn lice-ridden jail! He rode on to the Dunburys’ house, intent on explaining where he’d been and retrieving his everyday clothes, but not until he filled a tub with water and scrubbed himself raw to get the bugs off him. When he arrived, it was to an empty house.

  Avery had purchased a good house to begin with, but had also invested some money adding all the best amenities. Consequently, the bathroom had hot and cold running water, as long as someone lit the pilot and turned on the gas to heat the water. No one had. Luckily, in this climate even the cold water wasn’t too bad. Sam filled the tub a third of the way full and scrubbed hard with a bar of Palm Olive soap he found on the shelf. Wrapped in a towel, he found the clothes he’d left behind when he’d changed into evening wear and gotten dressed.

  Now he felt human again. He wadded the dinner jacket, trousers, tie, and cummerbund into a ball, rolled them into a newspaper, and tossed the bundle in a corner on the front veranda to keep any possible lice from contaminating the house. He’d worry about them later. Right now he had other things on his mind. He felt a desperate need to see Jade.

  He looked for a note, found none. Sam checked his watch and decided she had gone to mass. From his visit in town last January, he remembered that they’d gone to St. Joseph’s together. He got back on his motorcycle and headed back into Nairobi.

  By the time he arrived at seven thirty, the service was just beginning. Sam knelt in the back pew, his eyes scanning the crowd for Jade. From their build and general height, two young ladies could have been her, but he couldn’t see their hair for the broad-brimmed hats on their heads. Somehow, neither the hats nor the dresses looked like anything Jade would wear. An hour later, he emerged discouraged at not finding her. He suddenly felt very much alone in Africa, like a man shot down in enemy territory. The pounding in his head didn’t help either.

  He decided to retrieve his equipment and go back to the farm. He slipped out of the church and motored back to the Dunburys’. His head spun a little as he bent to take the key from under a flowerpot. He attributed the weakness to lack of sleep, went inside, and headed for the back pantry, where he had left the camera and tripod yesterday. They were gone!

  JADE RODE BACK to Parklands, thinking about Father Duflot’s suggestion. If she could find something to show Finch, something that would lead him away from Sam as a suspect, it would be worth any time and effort. I’ll ask Neville where the coffee dryer stood as soon as I see him. Finch had either not asked Neville that question, or Neville hadn’t remembered it when he made his meager entries in his notes.

  At the Dunburys’ she found a note from Madeline in her room. It said that Neville and she had driven off to their farm at six fifteen but left Biscuit behind since he was still eating. They added that Sam had not returned, and since they expected to see him at their home, the
y took his camera equipment with them in the motorcar. Jade wadded up the note and tossed it in a trash can. Then she removed her skirt and hung it in her closet. In the bathroom, she saw a wet towel and wondered if either Maddy or Neville had bathed that morning or if Sam had returned. She hurried to see if he was in any of the guest bedrooms. Empty.

  Deciding Sam had already gone back to the Thompsons’ farm, Jade locked up the house and headed for her motorcycle. That was when she saw the bundle tossed into a corner of the veranda. A quick check revealed Sam’s evening clothes.

  Why did he leave them wadded up here? Why didn’t he wait for me? She rerolled the clothes in the paper and set them back where she’d found them, searching for some reason why he’d be angry at her. She came up empty. Deciding that the answers waited for her at the Thompsons’, Jade went to fetch Biscuit. She undid his tether and led him back to her motorcycle. A quick check on her watch showed it was nine forty-five. Time to get moving.

  The sleek cat pranced and tugged at his lead, letting Jade know how excited he was by the prospect of another good run. Jade made sure the lead was firmly wrapped around her right hand, kick-started her engine, and let Biscuit set the pace. If anything, she had to restrain him several times. Her motorcycle was capable of 60 mph, but the road was not, and Jade didn’t care to connect with one of the many ruts and bumps at that speed. Two miles from the farm, she stopped, untied the lead, and let Biscuit have his head. He could run full out for as long as he could endure it and trot the rest of the way in.

  When Jade pulled into the farmyard, Biscuit was there waiting as Madeline pumped water into a large enamel pan for him. Since the cat was impatient, much of the water went directly onto the cheetah’s broad head, which he stuck directly under the flow. Jade looked around and saw no sign of Sam’s motorcycle.

  “Hi, Maddy. Sam back yet?” she asked as she removed her leather helmet.

  Madeline shook her head. “No, and I’m worried. Neville even went out to see if his plane was still in the hangar. It is.”

  “I’m going back to town and tell Finch something happened. This isn’t right. It’s not like Sam to disappear without telling any of us.” Jade went to the well and, once Biscuit had finished drinking, pumped another burst of water into a bucket. She caught the tailings of the flow in her hands and splashed the water on her face, then took a dipper and drank deeply.

  Madeline offered Jade a towel to dry her face, just as Biscuit raised his head and stared at a distant cloud of dust. Then he chirped. Jade knew immediately that he’d recognized the sound of Sam’s motorcycle.

  “Here he comes now,” Jade said.

  As the engine’s rumble became clearer, Neville came from one of the outbuildings, where he’d been working, and joined them. Everyone, human and cat alike, stood in a row, watching the dust cloud approach. Within minutes, Sam rolled into the yard and shut down the engine. He pulled off his goggles and helmet with uncharacteristic silence. Jade could practically feel the tension roll off him. Madeline took the towel from Jade, dampened it, and handed it to Sam. Jade followed with a dipper full of water. No one spoke, letting Sam have a moment to collect himself.

  Finally, Jade couldn’t wait anymore. “Are you all right, Sam?”

  He handed the dipper back to her and managed a thin-lipped smile. “I’m fine,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I was riding around thinking, that’s all.” He saw his camera and tripod on the veranda and sighed. “At least the damn camera isn’t gone. Sorry. Bad language,” he said with a sidewise glance at Madeline and Jade.

  “Tell us about it,” said Jade.

  Neville had run into the house and come back out with a whiskey and soda, which he handed to Sam. “You might need this more than the water,” he said.

  Sam started to reach for it, then dropped his hand and shook his head. “Better not. Got a bad enough headache as it is, but thanks anyway, Neville.” Neville shrugged, took one look at the glass, and drained it himself.

  “Finch hauled me into police headquarters for the night,” Sam said.

  “Why?” exclaimed Neville and Madeline in unison.

  “Said my prints were on the murder weapon, which as we all probably know by now was not really the murder weapon, but try to tell that to Finch.”

  “But of course your prints are on it,” said Neville. “You pulled Stokes out of the dryer, Sam. As I recall you had him by the wrists, and I had the feet.”

  Sam nodded. “And I handled a corn knife in the store. If not that one, then another. But it seems that makes me a prime suspect.”

  “He didn’t officially arrest you?” asked Jade.

  Sam shook his head. “Implied it’s only a matter of time. Told me I shouldn’t go flying off anywhere.”

  “What about your job tomorrow morning?” Jade asked.

  Sam shrugged. “Be damned if I’m losing that money. But he’ll probably haul me off for sure when I get back.” He looked at Jade. “Maybe you should fly and I’ll just sit in the front and scout. Then when he arrests me, I can tell him that I didn’t fly, just like he ordered.”

  Madeline clucked an “Oh, dear,” and Neville looked longingly at the empty glass. “I’ll be back in a moment,” said Sam as he headed for the outhouse.

  “Neville,” said Jade as she watched Sam walk off, “I meant to ask you. Where was the coffee dryer when you originally picked it up?”

  “By the freight yards. Not far from your bosses’ warehouse in point of fact. It was supposed to be sent on up to Thika, but I finally just took the truck and picked it up myself.”

  “How in the world did you manage to lift it?” Jade asked. “Surely you must have noticed that it was particularly heavy, for a supposedly empty drum?”

  “I might have, but I didn’t lift it,” Neville replied. “I paid six of the rail yard natives to load it and got my own men to unload it here. Remember, Jade. It wasn’t a particularly large drum since we air-dry most of our coffee. Wanted it to finish the drying in wet years. I liked that model because it had one large door instead of the usual two smaller ones.”

  “Lucky for the murderer,” muttered Jade.

  Neville’s stomach rumbled and he patted it. “Maddy, I’m starved. What say we go in and have an early luncheon?”

  “It’s barely past ten thirty,” said Madeline.

  “Then we have early elevenses,” said Neville. “Besides, once that crew arrives, there won’t be time for meals, and I’m sure Sam will want something to eat.”

  Madeline nodded. “You and Sam come join us, Jade. I’ll cut some cake and put on hot water for tea and brew some coffee for you.”

  “Don’t bother, Maddy,” said Jade. “I had breakfast at the mission. But I’ll tell Sam.”

  She sat on the front step and waited until Sam came around. “They went inside for a snack,” Jade said. “Neville’s stomach decided you were hungry.”

  Sam nodded and headed for the door. Jade snatched at his trouser leg and tugged him to stop. “I’m sorry about what happened, Sam,” she said. “We waited at the car for you for over an hour. Then when we saw your cycle was gone, we assumed . . .” She shrugged. “Well, to be frank, we didn’t know what to assume. Mainly that you’d come back here.”

  Sam nodded. “I tried to catch you this morning,” he said. “I must have just missed you.”

  “I was at church.”

  Sam pulled back, started to say something, then clamped his mouth shut. “Church. I see,” he said finally. He turned to leave.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have no idea,” he said. With that, he walked off toward the line of coffee trees.

  Jade got up and trotted after him. “Sam, wait.” He stopped, half turning to face her. “What’s wrong, Sam? I don’t understand.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out. “I went to church this morning, looking for you.” His dark eyes bored into hers. “You weren’t there.”

  Jade let her head fall back. “And you think I was lying to y
ou just now?” She stepped closer and peered into his eyes. “I went to the French mission.” Sam’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry, Sam. I had no idea. . . . I left Maddy a note, but I guess she threw it away after she read it.”

  “Sorry, Jade. I’m as bad as that damned Finch, accusing you of deceiving me without more evidence.”

  “You’ve had a bad night,” she said by way of excuse. “And you look like hell.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You ought to go lie down and sleep. I can go for a doctor or—”

  “I don’t need a doctor and I don’t want a damned nurse-maid!” Sam snapped.

  Jade pulled her hand back. “Maddy’s slicing cake if you’re hungry. I need to see to my equipment, get ready for loading those zebra. You’ll probably want to set up your camera.” Her lips twitched in a weak attempt at a smile; then she walked back to her motorcycle for her lariat. All the while, she wondered if Sam was hiding something.

  THE FIRST TRUCK, a large flatbed with a lidless wood-and-wire cage built around the inside of the truck bed, arrived just after eleven, with Daley at the wheel and four Africans riding in back. Cutter rolled in ten minutes later in an identical truck. Madeline invited the men to sit in the shade of the veranda while they discussed the upcoming operations. Jade and Neville joined them, and Sam filmed part of the discussion. Half an hour later, Anderson pulled into the yard.

  Anderson drove a smaller truck with stout wooden planks on the outer sides rising three feet from the bed’s bottom. A wooden gate, which slid into place in the back, lay loose on the floor next to an empty wooden cage. The others went out to meet him.

  “We’ll load the zebra into the larger trucks,” said Daley. “If we pack three in each one, they won’t have room to move. Won’t take a spill and break any legs that way.” He patted the last truck on the side wall. “Your lion will go in here. In a cage of course. We’ve got some poultry netting covering the gaps in the wood so he can’t get a paw out and claw someone.”