Banana Whip Safari Trip: A Culinary Cozy Mystery With A Delicious Recipe (Slice of Paradise Cozy Mysteries Book 4)

by Nancy McGovern

  Then Grandma Bessie had looked David up and down. Thankfully he was an earnest man, with wide open eyes, a friendly face, and dimples when he smiled. Yet his build was strong, quite wide compared to the average Kenyan, and he had a strong jaw. This combination of toughness and genuineness had seemed to win over the matriarch.

  “Do not worry, Miss Franklin,” he had soothed Grandma Bessie. “The drive is not so long. Mary has my cell number also. We will be very quick and will return soon.”

  “It is nice that you are suddenly so interested in Jasmine’s welfare,” Grandma Bessie had said to Faith, in a way that made it plain she knew exactly what was going on.

  Faith had not been able to quite meet her eyes. “See you very soon, Grandma. We will be back before you are, I am sure.”

  “Hmm.”

  Faith hadn’t quite been able to look in Nathan’s direction either. Quite accidentally, she had not spoken to him for a little while, at least not in any depth. After the police had left, he and Nathan had nursed drinks together, and only managed to snatch words here and there with Laura and Faith, who were so consumed by their idea that it left little space in their minds for anything else.

  As they continued on their journey across the darkening African plains, Faith made another vow to herself: When they returned, she would apologize to Nathan and make sure to spend more time with him. What she hoped was that the police would take in her information, formulate their own theories, and come storming in the next day, ready to arrest the perp or perps. Whether that would be Richard and Sophie, she had no idea. But their little talk had certainly been suspicious.

  “Do you really think Sophie’s capable of murder?” Faith asked Laura doubtfully.

  “Yes,” Laura said immediately. “I believe anyone is. People may just choose to act nice so that suspicion won’t be thrown on them. She could have been plotting this with her father from before they even reached here. Her whole ‘being a nice person’ thing might be an act.”

  “As might be her relationship with Greg?” Faith surmised. “Or it might be the other way round. What if Greg’s the killer, and his relationship with Sophie is a big front?”

  “Might be.” Laura shrugged. “But what about the conversation with Sophie and Richard. That doesn’t sound like innocent people being conned, does it?”

  “I guess not.” Faith bit her lip. It was horrible, in a way, thinking about who could have done it. It would almost been have preferable to stick her head in the sand and refuse to believe that anyone in their company could have been a murderer. “To be honest, I don’t know anything anymore. Everyone seems innocent.”

  “Well, we know that none of us did it,” Laura said. “So if the murders were really committed by the same person, then it’s got to be either Sophie, Richard, Greg, or Mary. There are no other possibilities.”

  “I’m still trying to work out if it really was the same person,” Faith said. “And there’s another thing we don’t know. How did Roy actually die? Did he just drown, like he was pushed in? Or did someone hit him first? Or what? I mean, he was very close to the edge of the veranda. He could have just climbed back on if he’d been conscious.”

  “Ooh, that’s a good point,” Laura said. “So that kind of means it’s unlikely he killed himself, right?”

  Faith’s brow furrowed. “Almost impossible, I think. Unless he put a weight on himself to drown himself. But I don’t think that’s possible, either. He was floating upside down in the water when I saw him.” She shuddered at the thought. “So he wasn’t pinned down or anything. And I don’t think it would be possible to hit yourself so hard over the head that you knock out, and then end up in the water and drown. That seems like a pretty unreliable way to commit suicide. Surely he’d have gone for something simpler.”

  Laura nodded. “I think you’re probably right. I think he was killed.”

  “But by who, darn it,” Faith said.

  Laura grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s actually by whom, Faith,” she said, with a mock-pompous attitude. “Honestly.”

  *****

  Chapter 17

  Neither Faith nor Laura knew what to expect when they would get to the Kenyan village. In their travels across the country thus far, they’d seen a whole range of different places – from areas with gleaming skyscrapers and modern buildings, to small villages with traditional houses, where goats roamed around and crops grew and people carried water on their heads in buckets.

  When they got to the village, the last piece of daylight was lingering in the sky, and soon the place would transition into moonlight. Thankfully, there was lamppost upon lamppost, casting their orange light onto the streets below.

  People sat out the front of bars and cafes, but other than that, the streets were deserted. No one seemed to be particularly interested in the two Americans and their driver passing by.

  “Here is the police station,” David said eventually, as they turned a corner into a small parking lot. The police station was an unremarkable beige concrete building. “Let us go inside. Now, please, don’t be cheeky to the man. He sometimes has a short temper.”

  Faith and Laura, despite their nervousness – or perhaps because of it – burst into giggles.

  “I am naturally a bit cheeky,” Laura said. “But I will try and restrain myself.”

  She had been joking, but David shot her a very serious look. “Please do. I dread to think what will happen otherwise. This man can be very scary.”

  Faith couldn’t stop a smile from turning up her lips, though she knew it was inappropriate. Why now, at the very moment she should be the most serious, did she feel like bursting into laughter?

  It took the glare of the man at the front desk to subdue her. It was considerably warmer inside the building, the concrete emitting the heat of the day into the room where it had been trapped, and the man was sweating at the temples, despite the fan blaring its air all around. It seemed to be pushing the warm air from place to place, actually, not adding much coolness to the place at all.

  Faith all of a sudden felt very serious, and began to get nervous as David spoke to the man in their language. The man at the desk waved them carelessly toward a door, then returned to his paperwork.

  “Oh my gosh,” Faith heard Laura whisper under her breath. There was no clue around about what Laura was so worried about, but Faith knew instantly. The whole situation felt tense. The warm air around them felt stultifying.

  “Come,” David said to them, and they followed him toward the door.

  David knocked, then gave them a pointed look. Be careful, it said.

  “Yes?” an irritated voice came from inside. “Open the door.”

  David pushed it open, like the doorknob was a hot coal he’d rather do anything in the world but touch, to reveal the police chief sitting at a desk, looking annoyed. His enormous gun was propped up in the corner next to him. Faith’s imagination ran away with her, and she saw him lift the gun up on his shoulder, and blow them all away with one shot, their bodies shooting out of the building, the concrete crumbling around them.

  But the police chief actually smiled as he stood up, though his look did not quite reach friendliness.

  “Hello,” he said. “I believe I remember your names. Miss Franklin, and Miss Edwards.”

  Faith smiled. “Yes. Hello, sir.”

  “Please sit down.” He looked at David. “Will you require a seat, also?”

  David’s eyes widened, like he’d just been asked to jump in a shark tank. “No thank you, sir. I will wait outside in the vehicle.”

  “Very well. Close the door behind you.”

  David could not dart out of the room fast enough. He closed the door with painstaking care, as if making a single noise would be reason enough for a firing squad to be set upon him.

  “So,” the police chief said. “You have something to tell me?”

  “Yes,” Faith said.

  Laura, despite having gotten a lot better at controlling her bouts of
crying since working with troubled children, had tears welling in her eyes.

  “We overheard two of the… suspects… talking among themselves. They said… They said…” Faith’s mind had gone completely blank. She felt perhaps the stupidest she ever had as the police chief regarded her with impatient eyes.

  “Yes…?” he said.

  “Um…”

  He pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows, and Faith felt her heart beat like a ticking time bomb.

  Thankfully, Laura came to her rescue. Her voice quivered a little, but somehow she managed to get the words out. “Richard was talking with—”

  “Richard what?” the police chief asked impatiently. “What is his surname?”

  “Lovett,” Faith said quickly, glad she could be of some use at least.

  “Richard Lovett was talking with his daughter Sophie,” Laura said, her voice gaining confidence. “Sophie Lovett, that is. She said to him, ‘Father, I think we should tell them.’”

  Faith then remembered the rest. “And he said, “No, absolutely not.””

  The police chief nodded, then waved his hand, urging them to continue. “And then?”

  “And then…” Faith said, beginning to feel very small indeed. “And then the bartender spoke to them and they finished their conversation.”

  The police chief pinched the bridge of his nose, looking down at the desk. Faith felt a sickening feeling in her stomach.

  “That was all?” he asked, which was what Faith had expected. Thankfully, though, he did not sound angry.

  “Yes,” Faith said. “We realize it might not be a lot to go on, but we thought it might be worth mentioning.”

  Laura nodded. “That’s why we came to tell you.”

  Faith’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him, desperately trying to read his face. Would he suddenly jump to his feet, and shout them out of his office for wasting his time? Or lock them up in a cell? What was the punishment for wasting police time in Kenya? All of a sudden, Faith looked around her, wondering what on earth she had gotten herself into.

  But what actually happened made her heart stop altogether for a moment.

  He looked up at them, his brow furrowed. Then his eyes narrowed into slits that made him look like a snake. A snake with a venomous bite and deathly intentions. “How do I know you are not inventing all of this? Maybe you killed him together, and now you try to mask what you have done by casting the blame on someone else.”

  Faith opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, then opened it again. Thoughts whirled round in her head like a cyclone and her mouth became a desert.

  “No, sir,” Laura said, holding her head high. Faith was so grateful in that moment. It really looked like Laura’s training was paying off. Even the welling tears had gone, and Laura’s eyes were clear and expressive and real. “Not at all,” Laura continued. “Not at all, sir. We are only trying to do the right thing and give you all the information you need.”

  He paused, still regarding them with suspicion. “Then why did you not call? Why did you come all the way down here?”

  Faith had been sure she had good reason not to simply pick up a phone, but all that nosedived out of her head and into oblivion. “Um…” she said again. She hated the way her uncertainty sounded. She knew just how pathetic she looked.

  “To manipulate me, that’s why,” the police chief concluded.

  “No!” Faith said.

  “To use your feminine wiles to make me believe you are innocent.” His eyes clouded up with dark ideas and his frown drew lower. “Or maybe the young men in your party are responsible, and sent you down here to throw the attention off them.”

  “No,” Laura said evenly. Her hands were shaking under the table but her voice was steady. “That is not true at all. None of them has anything to do with it. Please can you believe we are genuine, sir. Because… because…” She trailed off, looking at Faith with panicked eyes.

  All Faith could think to say was, “Because we are.”

  “Are what?” the police chief said.

  “Genuine.” Faith felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  “Perhaps,” he said, getting up from his desk. Faith willed him to walk away from the gun, but he stayed put. “Perhaps not. In any case, thank you for your information. It has been most enlightening.” The way he looked at them made Faith want to shiver. Did ‘most enlightening’ mean that Sophie and Richard would now be put under the microscope? Or that Faith and Laura would? Or, even worse, Yale and Nathan?

  Faith and Laura both stood up, as it was clear he wanted them to leave.

  “Please believe us, sir,” Faith said. “We honestly, honestly, honestly are telling the truth.” She knew she sounded like a six year old trying to get away with something, but she couldn’t think of what else to say. It was unsophisticated, but it really was genuine.

  “All right,” he said eventually, but in such a way as to say that she had been heard, not that he believed them in the slightest. “You should go back to the camp now. My department will be along tomorrow in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir,” Laura said. “Thank you for listening to us.”

  He made a little bow, but his smile and pleasant tone were merely politeness. The suspicious snake look still lingered in his eyes. “You are most welcome. Now go.”

  Faith and Laura hurried out of there and jumped back in David’s vehicle as fast as their legs would take them.

  “Are you satisfied?” David asked wearily. “We can go back to the camp now?”

  “Yes,” Faith and Laura both said at the same time.

  Once David had pulled the vehicle out of the parking lot and they were back on the main road, Faith and Laura both collapsed into giggles again. With relief, rather than nervousness, this time.

  David looked at them disapprovingly through the rearview mirror. “What on earth is so funny?”

  Faith and Laura couldn’t help but keep on laughing.

  “Sorry,” Faith said through giggles. “Sometimes we just end up doing that. I don’t know why.”

  “Hmm.” David’s nostrils flared and he looked so unconvinced that Laura and Faith burst into laughter all over again. Even though they knew it was a bit rude, they just couldn’t help themselves.

  Then when he turned on a radio station and turned up the volume to drown them out, they laughed all the more. Soon Faith had tears trickling out of her eyes.

  “What in the heck is wrong with us?” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the Kenyan radio chat show.

  Laura wiped her eyes and gasped for breath. “I have no idea!”

  *****

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, breakfast was a solemn affair. Everyone ate their croissants and cereal with a jittery nervousness, and most everyone flinched at every noise outside. Mary and Richard and Grandma Bessie and Nathan tried to make cheery conversation, but Faith could see through it all: no one was relishing the prospect of the armed policemen making their return.

  By the time breakfast was cleared away, no one knew what to do. They couldn’t go on a game drive because who knew what the police chief would do when they came back late, if he happened to arrive while they were out. Arthur suggested a game of cards, but everyone murmured at their respective tablecloths and the idea died in the air.

  Faith hated feeling jittery, and hated even more seeing everyone else feeling jittery. “I have to bake something,” she announced to the room. Her proposition was met with the same mumbling, but she was determined: Everyone would cheer up with some cake in their belly, she was sure. “Come on, Laura,” Faith said confidently, and had to drag her listless friend from the table by her wrist.

  Once in the kitchen, Faith felt much safer. The staff were still loading dishes into the enormous industrial dishwasher, but they were accommodating enough.

  “What can we make?” Faith said, more to herself than to Laura, as she combed through the sparse ingredients. The kitchen was stocked for cookin
g, not baking. “What can we make?”

  “Banana whip again,” said Laura. “I don’t feel like trying anything new.”

  But Faith couldn’t settle for that. She had so much energy pulsing through her body. She had to create something new; she had no choice in the matter.

  There were abundant bananas. There was still some flour. Spices. Eggs they sometimes prepared for breakfast. Sugar. “It’ll have to be banana bread,” Faith announced. But that didn’t feel satisfying enough. There had to be something she could do to make it new. To make it an invention.

  “Aha!” she said, stumbling on a chance ingredient in the fruit bowl. “Passionfruit.” The idea popped into her head as if it had a life of its own. “Passionfruit and banana loaf, with a passionfruit glaze. Yes!”

  Even Laura’s eye lit up a bit then. “That sounds good.”

  Faith was already looking for a mixing bowl. “Let’s do it.”

  So for a pleasant half hour, Faith and Laura lost themselves in their familiar, comforting world – the world of baking. Faith had not quite realized how much she’d missed her little baking bubble. Back home, every day was spent baking, or at least six out of seven. Yale’s mom Danica and their friend Stephanie were looking after Slice of Paradise for the week. Faith allowed herself to think of her little café for the first time in ages. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that, either. The floral napkins and the lace curtains and the tropical garden out front. The kitchen door that led out onto a patch of vivid bougainvillea, the way the kettle whistled, the smiling faces of happy customers. Thinking of all that actually brought tears to Faith’s eyes. She missed it. Her chest ached with missing it.