The Crocodile's Last Embrace (6 page)

Jade recognized him as Avery’s friend who was visiting when she’d returned from Kilimanjaro last September. The other note was from Beverly.

Jade sighed. More mothering from Bev. “I hate tea,” she muttered. Jade opened the tea and sniffed the contents. A fragrant blend of cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, and some other spices wafted up to her. She sneezed.
And pepper, too!
For a moment she considered trying a cup when a great yawn erupted from her.
Tomorrow.

She barely remembered her head hitting the pillow, but in her dreams, it was a rolled-up blanket under her head and her bed was a bundle of straw stuffed into old ticking in a farmhouse basement the day that David crashed.

JADE ROSE FORTY MINUTES BEFORE SUNRISE, dressed in last evening’s clothes, and settled herself at her table for a Spartan breakfast of a stale scone dunked in a cup of the tea, which, to her surprise, was good once she added a dose of honey to it. Not only didn’t it remind her of dried oak leaves steeped in ditch water, as did black tea, but the pepper provided a pleasant jolt to her palate. She knew that Beverly would expect her to join her and Avery at the main house, but Jade didn’t feel like facing an interrogation so early in the morning. At least, not from Bev. Jade was expecting one anyway, but from a different quarter. Finch arrived just as the sun rose, the long morning shadows sprouting in the golden light.

“Miss del Cameron, it seems I need to speak with you about a body,” said Finch. “Again.” His gaze drifted down to her dirty trousers and stocking feet and snapped back up to her face. “My apologies for disturbing your breakfast. However, I presumed you would be an early riser, as I need to see this accident right away. It appears you’ve anticipated me.”

“Won’t you come in, Inspector?” said Jade. “Have some tea while I put on my boots. It’s South African and not bad. The pepper in it is very stimulating.”

Finch stood at her door, his hat in his hand. “Thank you, no. I need you to accompany me straightaway to the Limuru Bridge and tell me everything that happened last night. I want to be finished before there are many people on the road.”

Jade set her empty cup on the table, grabbed her boots and hat, and headed out the door.

“You do not lock it?” Finch asked.

“Should I?”

“There have been the usual burglaries by natives, miss. Don’t think that because you are part of Lord Dunbury’s estate, you are immune.”

Jade took the hint and went back inside to find the house key and lock her door. Finch held the rear door of the Crossley staff car open for Jade, then slid in beside her. An Indian constable sat behind the wheel. At Finch’s nod, they drove to the bridge. Jade finagled her boots on in the rear seat. She saw Finch look at the knife hilt peeking out of the sheath on her right boot. He said nothing and looked out the window again.

The car stopped on the Nairobi side of the bridge, about fifty feet back. A second, even older car was already waiting for them. Constable Miller stood beside it, stiffening to attention when Finch stepped out.

“Inspector!” said Miller with a salute.

“At ease, Constable,” said Finch. “You’ve been here all night?”

“Yes, sir, Inspector. Traffic very light. No one’s been by since two o’clock, sir, excepting one farmer.”

“Very good,” said Finch. “We’ll look at the scene now. Constable Singh,” he said to the Indian, “take photographs, but get the fingerprints when we get the car back to police grounds. Miss del Cameron, show me where you were last night.”

Jade pointed across the bridge. “On the other side.”

“Where, exactly?”

Jade led the way across the bridge, keeping to the rail opposite the break. As she walked, she studied the ruts in the dirt road. On the other side of the river, she found the place where she’d sat.

“Here,” she said. “It was near to ten thirty when I stopped on my way back from the Thompsons’ farm.”

He arched his brows and frowned. “Then you’d have been on the Fort Hall Road, not here. Why did you come here?”

“I wanted to see the night sky. I couldn’t look at it very well while I was riding my motorcycle, so I turned off onto this road.” She didn’t look at Finch when she explained. To her ears it sounded pitiful and she didn’t want to see his reaction.

“Continue, if you please.”

“I heard an engine coming up from the south. I stepped back farther away from the road so I wouldn’t startle whoever came across, but no one did come. That’s when I heard the wood snap and the car go over. I can’t be certain, but I thought I heard the car door close just before it went over. But it was soft, not a slam.”

“What did you do next?”

“I went east, downstream, to find an easier way to get down to the car.”

“Do you mind showing me? You needn’t fear seeing the body. My men removed it early this morning.”

Jade pointed to her filthy trousers. “As you said, I anticipated you, Inspector.” She took him along the route, wondering if he’d follow her into the river. He did, as did the Indian constable who carried a box camera.

“By the way, you won’t find my prints on the door,” she said. “I used my sleeve.”

Finch’s thin lips twitched in a half smile. “Don’t worry, Miss del Cameron. I didn’t plan to arrest you.” He looked up to the bridge and the splintered railing. “Nearly a straight drop.”

“Not what one would expect if someone was speeding along and broke through the rails,” said Jade.

“But you saw no lights,” said Finch. “And the man had been drinking. The smell of the alcohol inside the vehicle was quite strong. So it’s not inconceivable that he was drunk, forgot to put on his headlamps, and drove off the road. You’ve seen the papers, I’m sure. The railings are merely tacked in place in some spots, giving the illusion of safety. Public works has done nothing about the bridge.”

Jade considered this a moment. “Even drunk, he’d have put his arms up defensively when he went over. They were at his sides, as I recall, and I didn’t see much blood, which suggests he was already dead before he hit. And did you notice the ruts up top?” She stepped over the rocks to the back of the car.

“Yes,” said Finch. “I did. Deep from the last rains but nearly parallel to the railing.”

“Exactly,” said Jade. “One would have to be driving very fast to skip out of those ruts.”

“In which case the automobile should have flown even farther before landing,” finished Finch.

“This rear guard is scratched,” Jade said.

Both Finch and Singh joined her. The latter took several pictures of the scratches as well as the position of the car relative to the bridge.

“Pushed,” said Finch. “The man on duty last night said that you heard someone drive away.”

“Slowly, with lights off,” added Jade.

“Blast and damn,” muttered Finch under his breath. He straightened and motioned for Jade to lead the way to the top. “The body is in Dr. Mathews’ office, awaiting an autopsy. It will be only a matter of time before the jackals from the newspapers descend on my office. I will, of course, do what I can to keep your name out of this, Miss del Cameron, at least until there is some formal inquest.”

Finch and Jade trudged up the bank to the top, leaving the Indian constable below to guard the car. Finch waved for Constable Miller to join them. “I shall send you back to town. Take Miss del Cameron with you. Then find something to haul up the car; block and tackle if we have to, or try Messrs. Childs and Josephs to see about borrowing that Bates Steel Mule tractor of theirs. We’ll have to drag the motorcar back to town, I’m afraid. Doubt it’s in any condition to . . . Oh, bloody hell.”

Two vehicles pulled up behind Finch’s car and a man jumped out of each. Both wore tweed suits and straw boater hats. One sported large sunshades the size of motoring goggles, and wide sideburns. He stood aloofly to one side of his car. The other was barefaced, sunburned, and approached with the aggression of a hungry dog. Each man carried a notepad and a pencil.

“I think the reporters are here,” said Jade.

“Miller, keep them back!” ordered Finch.

“Is it true that someone drove through the rails last night, Inspector?” shouted the red-faced man.

“Was it suicide?” asked the one with the dark glasses. His voice, more subdued, carried the question with a practiced gentility, as though this were a garden-party conversation.

Both suddenly noticed Jade standing just behind Finch. The red-faced reporter pounced. “Miss, were you in the car at the time?” he demanded. “Tell us what happened!”

“All
I
can tell you,” said Finch, “is that a motorcar did go off the bridge last night. The driver is dead. Everything else is purely speculation and I refuse to speculate to the press.” He tugged on Jade’s arm. “I’ll take you back myself. Miller!” he called to the constable. “Stay here with Singh. I’ll send some men to help get the car. And don’t let any of these civilians down there. Arrest them if they try.”

Miller saluted. “Yes, sir, Inspector.”

Finch pulled Jade towards the Crossley. “Do you mind stopping at headquarters again, Miss del Cameron? I’ll see that you get home right enough.”

“I suppose not. But what else do you need me for?” She fidgeted with her hands and rubbed her arms, feeling her skin prickle.

Finch started up the car and drove them back to town. “You’ve got a sharp eye and a clear mind. You raised some interesting points back there. I’d like to discuss them with you. By now, one of my men should have found our deceased friend’s rooms and been through them for any information. Your insight may be useful.”

Jade rubbed her arms again and nodded. What was it about sitting in the car with Finch that made her skin crawl? He wasn’t accusing her or her friends.

“Are you cold?” Finch asked.

“No. It’s nothing.”

“I’m not going to ask you to see the body again, if that’s what is troubling you.”

“I’ve seen bodies before,” Jade replied, looking out the window. Government Road was still fairly empty at this hour, only the usual settler or two doing business at White-away and Laidlaw. Finch parked in front of the dilapidated-looking galvanized-tin structure that still served as the police headquarters. While the rest of Nairobi was growing into dignified stone structures, Jade thought the police headquarters looked more like a place where a crime might take place rather than where it would be solved.

“Yes, I know you have,” said Finch. He held the door to the headquarters open for her, then ushered her into his office.

“Smith!” Finch called. “Bring the Limuru Bridge case materials in here.”

A young constable, looking to be no more than eighteen and gleaming with all the spit and polish that a fresh face and a clean uniform could give, dashed into the office with a box. “Will there be anything else, Inspector, sir?” he said, saluting.

Finch waved him out with a flip of his hand, his attention on the box. Jade pulled her chair closer to the desk, finding herself more than a little curious. She waited, however, for Finch to begin.

“Seems our man was a Mr. Clyve Stockton, recently arrived in the colony. His motorcar was hired locally. Usual belongings one would expect: shaving kit, assortment of clothing for roughing it, suit, watch, that sort of thing.” As he spoke, he extracted a worn, thin leather case.

“A man’s pocketbook?” asked Jade. “I presume he had some papers. Did you find any letters from a mother, a bank?”

“A sweetheart?” added Finch. “Here’s his pocketbook but there are no letters. If Mr. Stockton had any relations, he didn’t carry any tokens of them. No lock of hair or any other such treasures. He had money. Not much, but enough to get by until he found a position somewhere.” He looked up at Jade, measuring out his next statement. “We did find something unusual.”

Jade waited, playing his game by showing equal patience. Finch shrugged slightly and reached into the box. “We found this.” He pulled out a small ring-sized box, opened it, and took out a gold nugget the size of a small pea.

Jade whistled, long and low. “Saint Peter’s bait bucket! That
is
gold, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is. And we did find one paper in his pocketbook. It seems our Mr. Stockton had become a secondary partner in a gold mine up in the northern territory.”

“There’s gold up there?”

“If there is, it will be news to a great many people, including the commissioner of our own Land Department.”

“Well, there’s a motive for murder,” said Jade. “If he talked about this with anyone, someone might have killed him to steal his gold.”

“Perhaps.” Finch replaced the nodule of gold in the ring box. “Judging by your surprise, you haven’t heard anything of this before today.”

“No,” said Jade. “Did you think I might have? Are you trying to get me to do your work for you again?” she asked, referring to the time when he’d tricked her into solving the murder of a local businessman.