Mark of the Lion (25 page)

Jade interrupted her before a respectable-looking woman next to them could be shocked by such language from a lady. “You both look wonderful. Avery, you’ve grown a mustache since I last saw you. Beverly, you cut your hair.”

Beverly shook her short blond curls and laughed. “How could I not after you paved the way? Besides, I do think it will become the latest rage, and you know how I love to set a style.”

Jade laughed, her smooth contralto contrasting with Beverly’s airy soprano. “Yes, your combination of cocoa powder and coffee was quite the trend in the unit.” She looked at them both and decided they made a very handsome couple. Avery’s blond hair tended more towards a sandy shade while Bev’s shimmered like liquid sunshine. He stood six feet to her five feet, six inches. Both had watercolor blue eyes that reminded Jade of the Mediterranean.

On an impulse she decided to take their photograph and hustled them back onto the engine’s front bench to pose. They sat seriously for the first photo, then relaxed for the second. Beverly leaned against her husband, who gazed down at her with a look of intense devotion. A sudden feeling of loss welled up inside Jade and blurred her vision. She choked it back down, took the picture, then turned her back to wipe her eyes before Beverly detected anything amiss.

Beverly noticed anyway but determined not to subject her friend to questions here on the platform. “Avery, darling, what do you suppose we do about our luggage?”

“There are plenty of young native boys here only too willing to hire on to carry it,” said Jade. “My car’s over there.” She pointed to a cluster of carriages and a few other motorcars.

“Well,” said Lord Dunbury, “let’s find ourselves some likely lads and let them have at it.” He picked out two and, with Jade’s help translating, sent them racing for a stack of luggage farther down the platform. “Just what do they do with this money?” he asked. “I can imagine them spending it all on some sweets like any other boys.”

Jade shook her head. “Many of them are saving for a future wife. In the old days, before the colony outlawed tribal warfare, they could raid a village and steal some goats to pay a bride-price. Now they have to have rupees to buy goats.”

“Shocking,” said Avery. “Why we should interfere with a perfectly good system is beyond my comprehension.”

“It’s even worse for the Maasai and some of the other more warlike tribes,” replied Jade. “A young Somali wouldn’t think of courting a bride without first killing another warrior.” She remembered Corporal Gideon. “Now they join the army to do that.”

Beverly looked at her husband and shook her golden hair. “How hypocritical. To think we send our own young men off to slay the enemy and then marry the returning heroes, but won’t allow others to do the same. What is civilization coming to?”

The two youths returned hauling first one batch of suitcases, then another, and took them to Jade’s made-over Model T. The boot had been removed in the makeover and an open bed surrounded by wooden sides put in its place. A narrow wooden bench served as a backseat. Lord Dunbury stowed the goods in the back. “Will they come with us,” he asked, nodding to the boys, “to help unload at the hotel?”

“I’m sure they will,” she said, “as long as they aren’t attached to a rickshaw. We’ll create quite a scene, though, driving with them in the car. These colonists are very class conscious.”

Avery’s eyes twinkled. “A scene, you say? Sounds like ripping good fun. We’re game, aren’t we, love?” He looked across at his wife. Beverly smiled and nodded.

Jade’s Swahili had improved markedly since her arrival due to constant practice at the Thompsons’ farm. She asked the youths if they would like to come and help unload. After receiving an affirmative answer, Lord Dunbury grinned and pointed from them to the top of the luggage. The two young boys scrambled up to perch on top of the suitcases with delight spread in wide smiles across their faces. Avery assisted Beverly into the car and then got in himself after cranking the machine for Jade.

“Good heavens, Jade,” called Beverly from the backseat. “Even out here you still manage to find a flivver to drive. Which reminds me, I heard the most marvelous joke the other day. Do you know the difference between a Model T and a wheelbarrow?” She waited for Jade to reply, savoring the moment. Jade merely arched one thick black brow and waited. “A wheelbarrow only has one wheel,” said Bev. “Isn’t that a scream?”

Jade removed her hat, reached back, and slapped her friend on the head with it as she drove down the wide dirt road to the hotel. “You’d be surprised at how many American cars there are in Nairobi. I’ve seen several made-over Fords and one Dodge. But,” she added, “you’ll be pleased to hear that Lord Colridge now owns a new Willys-Knight Overlander.”

“Old Colridge still alive, is he?” asked Avery. “I suppose I’ll have to visit the old man. He and my father were rather thick at one time.”

“He’s expecting you,” said Jade. “Actually, he was supposed to go on safari with us but just broke his leg. Seems a jackal ran straight towards his horse, and he was thrown.”

“My word. I hope it’s not too serious,” exclaimed Avery.

“Just a fracture. If I know His Lordship, he’ll order his leg to heal quickly.” She called back over her shoulder to Beverly, “Tell me all about the wedding.”

“Oh, never mind the wedding, darling,” scolded Beverly. “I want to know what you’ve been up to. Here you are dressed in trousers and those old corps boots stinking like a pen at the London zoo. I do believe you need a keeper.”

“I told you back at the train, the smell protects me from witches.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Beverly tapped her husband on the shoulder. “Avery, darling, I can’t see her face. Tell me if she’s serious.”

“She looks serious to me, my love, but I don’t know her half as well as you do.”

“It’s simple. If she’s pulling my leg, she’ll eventually turn up one side of her mouth in a pert little smirk. If she’s serious, her lips don’t move.”

Jade started singing an old war ditty.

“I believe her lips are moving, Beverly,” said Avery, “but I can’t say that they’re smirking.”

“Oh, cripes. She’s stringing us along,” Beverly groused. “Very well. Two can play at that game.” She folded her arms across her chest for emphasis. “I won’t give you the gift we brought.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jade. “I promise I’ll explain everything, but not here.”

“If not here, then where?”

“Are you hungry?” asked Jade. “The train came in early today. Must not have been anything worth shooting at on the way. You could ask the Norfolk to pack a basket for you while you get settled. I’ll take you around, show you the sights, and give you all the
gory
details.”

The couple agreed. Jade saw to the lunch basket while Beverly and Avery went to their room followed by the two boys, still giggling from their ride atop the luggage. The desk clerk, used to many eccentricities, tolerated the outside youths better than he did Jade’s aroma.

“Miss del Cameron,” he said and wrinkled his nose. “How … good to … see you again. You aren’t staying with us again, are you?”

“No,” she assured him. “I’m a friend of Lord and Lady Dunbury. They would like a picnic basket packed, please. Some cold chicken perhaps, hard-boiled eggs, and fruit. Probably a nice white wine as well. Something simple will do.”

“Oh! For His Lordship? Of course.” He leaned forward to emphasize his assurances, but drew back as soon as he caught another whiff of Jade’s hat.

Jade enjoyed the entire scene. She’d grown used to the scent and, being a rancher’s daughter, didn’t find it half as offensive as some of these dandified Nairobi-ites did. She wondered where Mrs. Estes might be.
I’d like to show her my hat,
thought Jade with an evil grin.

“Er, would you care to have a glass of sherry on the veranda while you wait?” suggested the desk clerk.

“Actually, I still want to see that 1915 guest register. Do you have it?”

The clerk wrinkled his nose again, ran to the safe, and extracted the volume. Jade flipped the book open to January and ran her fingers down the list. She found Gil’s name first listed on the twenty-fifth. Next to that was a brief notation:
Jan. 30, found dead in room.
Few other names appeared, attesting to more people leaving rather than staying during the war. Jade took out her notebook and wrote down the names. One, she noticed, was a John Smith. He had taken the room next to Gil’s on the twenty-eighth, and left late on the thirtieth.

“Did you find what you need, Miss del Cameron? Couldn’t I get you that sherry on the veranda?”

“Coffee will do instead, please.” She went out before he fumigated the lobby.

As if thinking about trouble earlier now produced it, Cissy Estes appeared just as the Dunburys did. Her roving eye immediately landed on Avery’s handsome face and athletic figure.

“Jade, whoo-hoo,” she called as though they were bosom friends.

“Who the blazes is this floozy?” whispered Beverly in Jade’s ear.

The woman oozed up the stairs at a snail’s pace. “I was entertaining another acquaintance of yours last week.” Her words dripped slowly and dreamily. “You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. Roger Forster. Such a charmer, that one.” She closed her mascara-lengthened lashes with a deliberate languor to emphasize her pleasure. “Always adore seeing him. I believe he said he’s running your safari along with Harry.” She moaned with pleasure. “Mmmmm. You should have a wonderful time with those two. And thank you for the photograph. I adored it.”

No mention of Jeffrey this time or even the recently deceased Godfrey. Not with fresh prey in sight. “Mrs. Estes,” said Jade, “how nice to see you again. As you can see, I have my hat today.” She took it off and waved it in the woman’s general direction, hoping to keep her at bay. Mrs. Estes’ red-tinted lips puckered as though she had bit into a lemon. She stopped and swayed to some mental rhythm. “I’m very sorry, too, for the loss of your friend Mr. Kenton,” added Jade. “I know you were very worried about him.”

Cissy swayed to and fro and blinked slowly. By the puzzled expression on her face, Jade assumed the woman was trying to remember who Mr. Kenton was. Suddenly she drew in her breath with dawning recollection. “Oh, poor Godfrey,” she said as she dabbed her dry eyes. “I miss him so. Such a terrible accident. The funeral is tomorrow, I believe.”

“Yes,” murmured Jade, “the commissioner did rule it an accidental death by wild animal, didn’t he. I’m just curious as to what Mr. Kenton was doing on Lord Colridge’s land at the time.”

Cissy ignored Jade’s statement and slid up the final step towards them. “And who are your friends? You
must
introduce me to this very handsome man.” The woman nearly salivated as she extended her gloved hand. “I’m Cissy Estes.”

“
I
am Lady Dunbury,” said Beverly. “This is my
husband
.” She emphasized the word. Mrs. Estes didn’t seem to hear it. Beverly approached on the pretext of shaking the woman’s hand and accidentally stomped on her foot. The woman didn’t even wince.

“Oh,
Lord
Dunbury,” she cooed and crept closer. “You must come to my flat and visit. I entertain many people there. We have the most divine parties. As I was saying, Roger—”

“I’m sorry, but we won’t be joining you, Mrs. Estes,” Beverly said. “Perhaps we’ll meet again. I presume you walk the streets quite frequently?” Beverly said this with the sweetest of smiles, but the heavily made-up woman couldn’t help but catch her meaning.

“I must be going,” Mrs. Estes said and threw one last predatory look at Avery before she turned and slithered back down the stairs.

“My word, Beverly,” declared Avery. “You were an absolute tigress defending her own territory. I feel quite like a bit of prized meat.” He kissed his wife on the forehead.

“I don’t think it would take a tigress to beat that one off, although I daresay she’s handy with her needle,” retorted Beverly. Jade raised one brow in question. “She’s a heroin addict, my dear,” said Beverly in answer. “You must have seen the signs: general slowness and euphoria, the fact that she didn’t feel my foot stomp. And her pupils were positively pinpoints.”

“It is bright in the sun,” Jade countered, but in the back of her mind she recalled the powdery package in Cissy’s purse.

“The sun isn’t bright under that huge hat of hers. No, she’s an addict. I’m sure her thighs are quite a mess from injections.”

“Who is this Godfrey person she pretended to cry over?” Avery asked.

“Godfrey Kenton. No one you would like, Avery. Rich, self-centered, cheated on his wife, and, if the general gossip I heard was true, he may have tried to cheat a couple of the colonists out of property or livestock.” Jade watched Cissy’s retreating back and tried to make her voice sound as casual as possible. “Anyway, he went missing late Saturday or early Sunday. I found his remains on Colridge’s property just the other day.”

“What?” exclaimed both Dunburys simultaneously. “How horrid for you,” Beverly added. “Did you have to identify him?”

“There wasn’t much to identify really. His boot … with a leg stump in it and his head.” Jade looked around. “Where is that lunch? I’m famished.”

The lunch basket appeared shortly, and Jade drove them straight to the Ruiru flumes, where her adventure had first begun. They sat on some rocks and ate while Jade recounted her experiences, ending with the lion by the car and finding Kenton’s body. She even undid her cuff and showed them the small indigo-colored lion’s tooth on her wrist.

“So you can see why I believe very strongly in this ointment. I’m not entirely sure what it does against witches, but it’s very efficacious against wild lions.”

Neither Beverly nor her husband spoke. Beverly was too stunned, and Avery had a mouthful of chicken. He poured a glass of wine for his wife and held a second out to Jade. She declined it, taking water from a crockery jug instead. Avery drained his glass in two gulps.