“No.” Jade picked up the handset, clicked the receiver up, and cranked the handle around several times. “Hello? Operator? Please connect me to the police. Yes, the police. Thank you.”
“The police,” said the man beside her. “By thunder, did someone rob you?”
Jade shook her head. “No, but—” Her explanation was interrupted by a voice on the line. “Hello. Police? I want to report an attempted murder.”
“Murder!” exclaimed the railroad man. “My stars!”
“Yes, murder,” continued Jade, trying to hear over the expostulations next to her. “Warehouse number eight. And bring a doctor. There’s an injured man.”
She hung up the telephone. “Thank you,” she said to her now-agitated companion. For a moment she toyed with ringing up the Dunburys, but it was so late, past two in the morning. They’d be asleep and she didn’t want to worry Beverly, not in her condition.
“Are you certain, miss, that I cannot be of more assistance?” asked the railroad man.
“No, I’ll be fine. But thank you, Mr. . . . ?”
“Oswald. Dicky Oswald.” He smiled and stood up very straight, trying to add another inch to his stature.
“Thank you, Mr. Oswald. You’ve already been a great help. Now I have to get back. I left an injured man out there.” She stopped at the door and turned partway around. “There is something else. Do you have a cup or mug that I can use, please? I need to give someone water.”
He filled a drinking tumbler from the crockery water-cooler. “Perhaps I should accompany you, miss. It seems you’ve had quite enough adventure.” He looked around the office. “I should just secure everything here first and . . .”
Jade didn’t have time to wait for him to tidy up. She took the tumbler from him. “If you wish, but I must get back now. Thank you.” She hurried back to the warehouse and knelt beside Wachiru, cradling his head and holding the water glass to his lips. “Drink, Wachiru,” she said. She let some water trickle onto his lips. His eyelids fluttered and his mouth opened. “Easy, now. Take it slowly.”
Jade heard the sound of hasty footsteps from behind her. “There you are,” said Oswald. “I was worried that . . . Oh! I say. It’s a native!”
“His name is Wachiru,” said Jade as she offered the water again. “He’s been hurt.”
“Is this the man that set upon you, miss? Be careful! If he comes to, he may try again.”
“You don’t understand, Mr. Oswald. Wachiru was hit and left to die by the same man who tried to kill me.”
Any further explanation was stopped by an approaching motorcar. Jade recognized Constable Miller as he stepped out along with an African askari.
“Miss del Cameron, I believe,” he said. “What’s all this about an attempted murder?”
Jade explained briefly the evening’s events, beginning with the message that Percy was sick and ending with Wachiru’s rescue.
“Could this man,” Miller asked, “be the one who lured you in? Perhaps he took a fall before he could get out himself?”
Jade shook her head, then stopped when it only increased her growing headache. “No. I know Wachiru. He’s a trusted employee.”
“Perhaps it was all just an accident, Miss del Cameron,” Miller said. “You may be overreacting to think of this as a murder attempt. Not surprising considering the perilous situation you’ve just emerged from.”
Jade scowled and gritted her teeth. Why did all officers think that women got hysterical and overreacted at the slightest provocation?
Before Jade could say anything, Miller continued. “It’s very easily explained, you see. Your man there was checking on the animals. He saw the lion seemed ill and sent someone for you. In the meantime, the leopard escaped. Perhaps this man—”
“His name is Wachiru!” growled Jade.
“Yes, of course. Your man Wachiru there might have been feeding it at the time. He fled, hit his head, and there you are. You arrive, the leopard charges, and naturally you know the rest.”
“That’s a lovely theory, Constable Miller, except that it doesn’t explain how the door locked behind me.”
“Hmm, yes. Are you certain you didn’t shut the door behind you?” asked Miller. “Perhaps you did and the lock caught.”
“It’s a damn padlock!” shouted Jade. Beside her, Wachiru moaned and either fell asleep or passed into unconsciousness again. “You did call for a doctor, didn’t you?” she asked. “Wachiru’s hurt.”
“Yes, of course. Dr. Garnham should be along in a moment. Rang him up just before I left.” Miller seemed to notice Oswald for the first time. “And you are?”
“Richard Oswald, Constable. Most people know me as Dicky, though. I have the night shift this month at the rail offices.” He pointed across the tracks to the little wooden building. “The, uh, young lady came to my office for assistance. In need of a telephone.”
“Very good,” said Miller. “So you’ve been there all evening?”
“Since seven o’clock, Constable. Same as every night.”
“Did you see anyone suspicious loitering about these premises?”
“No, I did not.”
“It’s a bit difficult to do with your eyes closed, isn’t it?” asked Jade. “I believe you were asleep when I knocked on your door.”
Oswald’s face reddened. “Of course not,” he said. “Can’t sleep on duty. And speaking of duty, I had best return to mine.” He paused and waved his hand in Wachiru’s direction. “No need to return the water glass, miss.”
Jade watched him hurry back to the office. Running like a cowardly cur. “You can’t go by his word,” said Jade to Miller. “He was asleep when I knocked on his door. He knows that. That’s why he skeedaddled just now. It’s worth his job.”
“I will grant you that much, Miss del Cameron. Many a night watchman has been caught napping while on duty. But the simplest explanation is generally correct. I see no real reason to suppose someone meant murder. At most, someone was negligent and shut the door not knowing you were inside.” He turned his head at the approach of another motorcar. “Ah, the good doctor arrives.”
Doctor Garnham parked his Overlander next to the constable’s Dodge and stepped out, black bag in hand. He was an older man with white sideburns and a generous sprinkling of white hair among the brown. His mustache, too, was white and the full style more old-fashioned than the thin ones now favored by the younger men. “What seems to be the matter?” he asked. “Can’t have been a train accident.”
“Wachiru’s suffered a blow to the back of his head, Doctor,” said Jade.
“Have you moved him?”
“Yes, from the warehouse.”
“Shouldn’t have done that,” he said, kneeling down on the other side. He took a small flashlight from his bag, pried open Wachiru’s eyelids, one by one, and shone the beam in his eyes.
“It was that or let him be mauled by a big cat, sir,” said Jade. “Someone hit him over the head and then locked the both of us inside with a loose leopard.”
The doctor’s head snapped up. “The devil you say.”
“At the moment, that is speculation,” said Miller.
“Speculation, my aunt Fanny!” retorted Jade. “This is directly related to Stokes’ murder. For some reason, the real killer thinks I know something or have seen something incriminating.”
“And have you?” asked Miller.
“I found a pocketknife under the dip tank today. It may have belonged to Mr. Stokes, or it may have been dropped by the murderer and inadvertently kicked under the tank. I turned it in to police headquarters this afternoon for Inspector Finch to examine.”
“Anyone might have dropped a pocketknife, Miss del Cameron. This is a busy place. Don’t worry. I shall type up all this in my report for the inspector to see first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, you should let the good doctor take a look at you as well.”
“Yes, indeed,” said the doctor. “Constable, have your man help me get this native into my car. I’ll
take him to the native hospital.”
“We’ll take care of it, Doctor,” said Miller. He directed the African askari to fetch a blanket. “You see to Miss del Cameron.”
“You need to keep Wachiru under guard, Constable,” said Jade. “Someone made an attempt on his life. He may be able to identify the attacker. That person may try again at the hospital.”
“Yes, yes,” said Miller. “Don’t fret yourself, miss. I’m certain we’ll bring whoever did this to book soon enough.” Miller and the askari rolled Wachiru onto a blanket and lugged him into the constable’s vehicle.
“Miss del Cameron,” said the doctor, “if you’ll please come with me, I do want to see to those cuts of yours.” He pointed to Jade’s hands. “We’ll go to the European hospital.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I want to go with Wachiru and see that he’s taken care of.”
“I insist,” he said, laying a fatherly hand on Jade’s arm. “If the leopard scratched you, then those cuts could take a very nasty turn if they are not properly disinfected and bandaged.” He nodded to the rips in her shirt. “You may have suffered other wounds as well.”
“My motorcycle,” said Jade, looking for an excuse to stay. “I don’t want to leave it here.”
The doctor frowned for a moment. “Let me see your eyes.” He shone his light into each of them in turn, watching for the pupilary reaction. “You don’t seem to have suffered any head injuries, but I dare not take a chance letting you motor off on your own until I’m certain.” He turned to Miller, who’d just finished placing Wachiru in the backseat. “Take the young lady’s motorcycle to the European hospital. I want her to ride with me until I know she is all right.”
“Certainly. I’ll have Andrew here,” he said, nodding to the askari, “ride it over before we drop off this native. I’ll follow him. If that is all right with Miss del Cameron.”
“Take Wachiru to the hospital first,” said Jade. “And remember, I want him to have the best care. I’ll pay for it,” she added, knowing that the native hospital’s reputation was mixed at best with too many men too close together in less than sanitary conditions. As long as no one made another attempt on his life. “You do know how to operate this?” she asked the askari.
He grinned and replied by adjusting the choke and deftly kick-starting the engine. Jade sighed and got into the doctor’s car. At least she’d be able to get home without calling for a rickshaw or, worse, waking Avery. They rode to the European hospital, and she couldn’t help but recollect when she’d visited Sam. The doctor crept along, taking care not to jar her while going over the ruts. They arrived just as Andrew zipped by on her motorcycle, followed by Miller.
“Come with me to the examining room, if you would please, Miss del Cameron,” said the doctor. “Have a seat.” He pointed to a wooden chair in the middle of the room. “Nurse!” he called out into the corridor.
A middle-aged woman in starched whites and a veiled cap stepped into the room. She waited without a word for the doctor’s orders, her gaze never leaving his face.
“This young lady has some wounds to attend to.”
The nurse nodded and stepped over to the side table and an enamel basin. She filled it with water, came back with soap, cloths, and towels, and proceeded to wash Jade’s hands. The doctor went to a locked cabinet and retrieved several bandages and a bottle labeled MERCUROCHROME.
“This is quite new, but very wonderful,” he confided. “Should have liked to have had it during the war.” He dabbed the orange mixture onto the newly washed areas. Jade winced. “It does sting just a bit.” He capped the bottle. “Let me give you something for the discomfort while Nurse applies your bandages.”
“I’m fine really, Doctor,” said Jade. “I just want to go home, swallow some aspirin, and crawl into bed.
“Ah, I can help you there,” said the doctor with a gentle smile. He stirred a powder into a glass of water and handed it to her. “Drink it all down now. That’s a good girl.”
Jade swallowed the liquid and started to get out of the chair. “Thank you. I’m . . .” The room started to spin, and the last thing Jade heard was the doctor telling the nurse to prepare a bed for Miss del Cameron.
CHAPTER 23
Now that they are restricted to their reserve, how will the Maasai
hunt buffalo for hides to make their shields? Where will they find
enough lions to outfit their headdresses? And where will they wear
them if they cannot raid or go to war?
—The Traveler
THE SEDATIVE MIGHT have knocked another woman of Jade’s size out for hours, but Jade’s strength of will was stronger than most. Consequently, instead of putting her out into a mindless, drugged sleep, the medication kept her teetering on the fringes of consciousness long enough for her to conjure up everything that had happened in the past week. Then fatigue took over and Jade drifted into a dream-filled sleep, where her mind attempted to sort it all out.
In her dreams the blind Wakamba woman, only a few vestiges of gray clinging to her nearly bald and liver-spotted head, stood before her. Her ancient breasts, flattened like two deflated balloons, hung above her leather apron. She clutched a ratty monkey skin around her shoulders, staring at Jade with dead white eyes, which followed every move Jade made. When Jade, in her dream, stopped and greeted her, the old woman pointed a bony finger and opened her toothless mouth. “Watch for the madness in the eyes of a killer,” she croaked.
The old woman changed into the laibon. He pointed to a set of evil-looking yellow eyes glowing through the darkness. She heard his voice, cracked with age but still commanding. “When this killer comes for you again, Simba Jike, you must seek help from your mate.”
Both the woman and the laibon vanished into mist, leaving behind two snappish kittens. As Jade picked them up, Harding rode up on a zebra and handed her a skin of milk. He ineffectually stabbed at it with his fingernails, trying to poke a hole. Stokes wandered by, clutching a corn knife, and swiped the end of the bag, spilling the milk, which turned into a poisonous arsenic dip, all over Harding, who sickened, clutching his stomach.
Jade ran into Chalmers’ musty and unkempt house, looking for help. All she could find was dusty photographs of him and his friends posing in uniforms next to a zebra. Jade was about to grab the picture when Chalmers leaped out of it and ran outside. He touched Harding’s mount, and it sickened and died. Then the two men fought while Stokes looked on, laughing.
Mrs. Berryhill stood in the background, sneering at the foolish men playing at soldiers and dress up. Jade saw Alice Stokes hiding behind Pauline’s skirts and called to her. The frightened young woman ran away with a baby, just as Sam flew overhead in his Jenny.
Jade shouted at them to stop, but no one listened. She called to Inspector Finch but he was too busy hauling Jelani and some other Kikuyu away to prison. The natives protested the sentence, one man shouting that he could not work where the animals were bewitched.
Then everyone disappeared, leaving behind one coffee dryer. Jade approached it cautiously, as if she knew what she’d find inside. The door opened on its own at her approach, but when she looked in, the dead man within was Sam.
A wailing moan woke Jade with a start. She sat up quickly, surprised to find herself in a narrow bed. Where the . . . ? The moan was repeated, louder this time. It came from a woman at the far end of the ward. Dang doctor slipped me a sedative. At least the nurse hadn’t bothered to undress her beyond removing her boots, which stood beside the bed.
Judging by the relative quiet and the darkness through the high windows, Jade thought it was still night. The patient at the far end wailed again, a knife-edge to the sound. It was enough to bring the nurse. Jade closed her eyes and feigned sleep as the woman padded past her.
“Now, Mrs. Albright, you’re not ready to deliver that baby yet.”
They put me in the maternity ward? Jade waited until the nurse’s back was turned, picked up her boots, and tiptoed out. The rest
of the hospital’s halls were vacant, devoid of waiting visitors, and bustling doctors and nurses. A clock showed it was five thirty in the morning. Jade headed for the front door and freedom. Once outside, she picked her way carefully in her stocking feet to the west side, where her motorcycle was parked. She sat on the ground, pulled on her boots, then pushed her cycle to the edge of the hospital grounds. When she was sure that no one would hear her, she adjusted the throttle and choke and kick-started the machine. The reward of hearing the engine finish the stroke went a long way to restoring Jade’s peace of mind.
She motored down the long hill just as the sun rose. With it went all hope of getting home before anyone else woke up and discovered she was still gone. Madeline had planned to leave before dawn, and Beverly, always an impeccable hostess, would have already risen to see that she and Jelani had breakfasted before they went.
At the bottom of the hill, Jade paused, idling the motor. Should she try and hurry to catch up to them or head on to Parklands and ease Bev’s concerns about her absence? The dream images, especially that hideous conclusion, kept tickling Jade’s brain, urging it to make sense of the puzzle. Sam was a key. He was the first intended victim. So what had he seen?
It could be something he saw when he was flying or when he was filming the fair.
She tried to think of everything he’d told her; then she remembered his logbook. Could it contain a clue? Think! What do you remember reading? She couldn’t recall anything special except . . .
A new idea popped into her head, and she decided she needed to ask Mr. Berryhill a question. His store, which catered to early-rising farmers, opened at six a.m. Jade pulled out her pocket watch. It was already ten minutes after. She set the throttle and headed there, hoping the store would be empty of customers.
It wasn’t. Two farmwives examined dry goods, and their husbands debated with themselves over various implements. For a moment, Jade couldn’t figure out why the normally efficiently run store seemed to be standing still. One of the women had clearly made her choice and stood at the counter, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. Then Jade saw that Mr. Berryhill was alone behind the counter. Had his wife gone back to making deliveries? After ten minutes, which Jade spent pacing, Mr. Berryhill finished with the last customer and asked what he could do for her.
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