The Leopard's Prey (20 page)

“Were you able to get all that on film, Sam?” asked Jade.

He looked up from the camera and nodded. “Should be okay.”

Jade thought he looked pale and noticed the lines tightening around his mouth. “Sam?”

“I’m fine!” he insisted. “I told you, I’m just tired.” Biscuit trotted over and butted his head against Sam’s good leg. He reached out and scratched the cheetah behind the ears, and Biscuit erupted in a deep, resonating purr.

“Fantastic job, Jade,” called Daley. “Now all we have to do is load up that lion.”

“You won’t need me for that,” said Jade. “Maddy hasn’t fed him yet. Put some meat in your cage, set it door to door with his, and he’ll go right on in.”

“You heard the lady,” Daley called to his crew. “Get the cage set up.” He turned back to Jade. “We may still need you to help unload these animals into the holding pens in Nairobi. We’ll put them into a freight car with built-in stalls so they’ll be ready to ship out Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?” asked Jade. “I thought you were staying on through the week.”

“We are,” said Daley, “but Bob wants to load up the hoofed animals early. He’s taking them by train late Tuesday to Mombassa and supervising the loading. I’ll stay on here until we get the rhino. Then I’ll take it and the predators to the ship.”

Jade nodded as she watched Sam relocate his tripod and camera to film Percy’s transfer and loading. His answer to her query had sounded curt and snappish to her ear.
Maybe he is just tired. You’re tired, too.
But as she watched him smile at Maddy and give stage directions to Neville, she knew something else was wrong. Was he jealous of her dancing with Anderson last night? It hadn’t been her choice. She couldn’t think of anything else.

She hoped that a good night’s sleep and the prospect of flying tomorrow would put Sam in a better disposition. Until then, Jade decided to stay out of his way lest she inadvertently say something about Finch or Stokes to remind him of his humiliating night in a jail cell.

As she predicted, Percy followed his stomach and went easily enough into the cage. He started once and snarled as they put the barricade in place and again as the men hoisted him up into the truck, but once they left him to finish his meal in peace, he quieted down.

Jade went to the pump and splashed water on her face, letting it run down her shirt. The afternoon sun immediately dried her and she felt her tension evaporate along with the water. Someone touched her shoulder and she jumped.

“Sorry,” said Madeline. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I was just daydreaming, I guess.”

“You must be exhausted,” said Maddy. “Come inside and have some lemonade. There’s still cake, too. Neville is the only one who ate any earlier.”

“Is Sam going in?”

Maddy frowned. “Yes, but he said he wants to lie down and sleep. He must have had a very bad time of it last night.” She peered at Jade. “Did you two have a row?”

Jade shrugged. “I wish I knew that myself. We’re supposed to fly tomorrow morning, and now I’m not sure if I shouldn’t just stay away.”

Madeline grabbed Jade’s arm. “Oh, don’t do that,” she said. “I’m sure he’s just worn-out. Neville can be a grumpy lion when he’s tired, too, but he’ll never admit to it. Silly male pride.”

Jade felt her fatigue returning. “I’m exhausted, too. It looks like Mr. Daley wants to get these animals squared away now, so I’m going to have to leave. Thanks anyway.”

“But you’ll come back for supper?”

Jade shook her head. “Thanks, but no, Maddy. I’m going to soak in a tub and sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early, in case Sam still wants me to go up.”

She waved goodbye to Neville, put on her helmet and goggles, and started her motorcycle. Not wanting to eat everyone’s dust, she led the way to the Nairobi warehouse, taking note that the place where Neville’s coffee dryer had stood was a few hundred yards from the holding pens.
That’s close to where our trough of cattle dip is, too.
If the dryer was a convenient place to shove a body, then the murder site would be close. There was no other dip trough nearby.

If she had any hope of finding some footprints or impressions, though, it was dashed by the innumerable tracks made by men filling buckets of dip to fill pump sprayers. So after the zebra were safely in their stalls, she didn’t search the area around the trough, especially as the hired Africans were busy treating the new arrivals.

“Join me for a drink?” asked Anderson.

“Thanks, but no, Wayne,” replied Jade. “I’m not a drinker and frankly I’m just too tired to socialize. But thanks for your help hauling in that stallion. I couldn’t have managed by myself.”

“Well, I’m a pretty handy guy,” he said. “You know, if you change your mind about hanging around here, you could come back to the States with us.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. She headed for her motorcycle while Anderson followed.

“Hate to see a pretty American wasting her time here in this forsaken hellhole.”

Jade didn’t bother to answer. She just waved and headed north to Parklands. She’d left Biscuit behind with Madeline, and as she pulled into the lane, she suddenly wished she’d brought him back with her. The house was too big to rattle around in alone.

Jade had stuck her key in the lock when she noticed it was already unlocked. Immediately, her senses went on alert. She opened the door a crack, listened, and hearing nothing, crept inside. Something clattered to the floor, the sound coming from one of the back rooms. Jade reached down to her boot and pulled her knife from its sheath.

She was definitely not alone.

CHAPTER 10

When a Maasai warrior went to war, he wore a lion’s mane headdress.

—The Traveler

THE SOUND OF shuffling feet followed the clattering. Jade pressed herself to the wall, trying to determine the number of intruders. If it was just one, she could take him, but if there were several, she needed to make a dash for the nearest policeman. Unfortunately, by the time they returned, the Dunburys’ house could be thoroughly looted.

Then another thought came to her. Maybe this wasn’t a thief. Maybe someone wanted to find out how much she knew about Stokes’ murder. In that case, she definitely needed to capture this person. She gripped her knife in her right hand, the edge of the blade resting back along the sleeve of her outer forearm. The antler hilt felt cool and familiar in her grip.

The shuffling stopped, followed by a low groan. Was someone hurt? Had there been a falling-out between two thieves? Her knee didn’t hurt, so presumably the danger wasn’t mortal.
No sense taking chances.
Jade looked around for something to protect her exposed left flank and immediately chose the ornate Wakamba shield hanging on the wall above the leather couch.

Nothing like the genuine article.

Armed and protected, Jade padded to the open doorway and into the narrow hallway. In front of her was the door to Avery’s study. To her right lay a small sitting room and, beyond that, the master bedroom. She paused in the doorway, waiting for another noise to guide her next move. She heard a drawer open in the bedroom.

A petty thief.

From what Jade read in the papers, these were generally one of the poorer natives, often a child, looking for something they could sell to pay their hut tax. If that was the case, the thief would most likely be unarmed. But Jade didn’t intend to take any chances. A nagging voice in her head suggested it could still be the murderer looking for information.

Jade decided on the element of surprise. She charged the open door with a battle cry worthy of the lustiest warrior, shield out in front of her, and her knife hand raised. A clang and a shrill scream met her outcry.

Jade stopped abruptly inside the bedroom and lowered her weapons. “Beverly? What in the name of St. Peter’s bait bucket are you doing here?”

Lady Dunbury, her fair face even paler than usual from fright, plopped herself into a nearby chair. “I live here. My stars, Jade. You nearly scared me into labor.”

Jade dropped the shield to the floor, slipped her knife back into its sheath, and stepped into the room. Her eyes told her this was her best friend, but her head couldn’t register the fact. “But you’re supposed to be in London having your baby. What are you doing here? Where’s Avery? My Lord, you’re … huge!”

Beverly planted her feet apart and gripped the chair’s arms. “Oof,” she said as she pushed herself up. “I feel like I’m carrying a pumpkin inside.”

Jade hurried to help her. “No, don’t get up. You should sit. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, hush and give me a hug.”

Jade clasped her friend in her arms, trying to avoid crushing the bulging abdomen. “Bev, I can’t believe this. You’re really here.” By now Jade’s head, aided by touch and sound, had caught up with her eyes. She felt a giddy elation, an exuberance that lifted her soul as high as flying did her body. She felt something else, too: a bump against her own middle. “Was that the baby?” Jade asked. “Did I just feel the baby kick?”

“You did. The little tyke kicks all the time now.” They hugged again, rocking from side to side. Beverly started to sob.

“Bev, what’s wrong?” asked Jade, worry replacing her joy. She suddenly remembered that she hadn’t seen any sign of Avery and a horrible anxiety cut through her heart. “Where’s Avery?’

Bev eased herself, a little ungracefully, back into the chair and waved her hand in the air. “Avery’s probably still at the train station, trying to get our luggage here. I was tired, so I took a rickshaw home.”

Jade knelt beside her and placed one hand on her friend’s arm. “Then what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Beverly dabbed at her eyes, which always reminded Jade of the blue one saw in watercolors. They seemed even more so now that they were moist with tears. “I cry all the time,” Beverly answered. “I hear a sentimental song, I cry. I eat a scone, I cry.” She turned to Jade and smiled. “And even the remotest memory of Africa or you, and I blubber like a baby.” She reached over and hugged Jade again.

“You cannot know how much I—
we
—missed you and our home here,” Beverly continued. “I positively
hate
London now. It’s so noisy and smelly, and there aren’t any zebra to come running down the street when a lion scares them.”

She sniffed, and Jade stood and fetched one of Beverly’s embroidered handkerchiefs for her. “Thank you,” said Bev after she blew her nose. “And my sister has been impossible! She insisted on moving in to take care of me.”

“That sounds very loving, actually,” said Jade.

“My aunt Fannie’s bustle,” Beverly retorted. “She’s always wanted to live in a big town house and she thought that once she was moved in, she’d never have to leave. I think she was planning to be the baby’s governess.” She dabbed her nose again, but by now, indignation had replaced her previous emotional outburst. “When I wrote that last letter to you, it was all I could do to stop crying. That’s when Avery decided we should just chuck it all and come back where we belonged.”

Jade shook her head. “It sounds too risky to me. Surely your doctor didn’t approve.”

“Oh, pshaw on him, old fuddy duddy. We—well, Avery—ran into Dr. Burkitt that very day in London. He came to see me and declared me as fit as a Cape Buffalo. So we threw everything into the trunks and caught the next boat out. Dr. Burkitt is returning to Nairobi with the governor, so he’ll be here to deliver the baby. We wanted little Jade or David to be born in Africa.”

“No. Absolutely no. You are not naming that child after me.”

“Obviously not if it’s a boy.”

“I mean it, Bev. So help me… .”

“So help you, what? What could you possibly do? Refuse to stand as godmother? You know you wouldn’t do that.” She hoisted herself up again and straightened her dress. As usual, Beverly wore the latest style, and since the waistlines this year were very loose, only the bulge pushing out from the pretty peach organdy gown gave any clue that this was a maternity dress. As she stood, her handkerchief fell to the floor.

“Be a dear and pick that up for me, will you, Jade? I do not bend so easily.”

Jade retrieved the handkerchief and then the silver glove box that Beverly had dropped when she screamed. Beverly, in the meantime, started waddling toward the door. “In point of fact,” Bev said, “Avery and I have not decided on names. I just wanted to see what your reaction would be to those so we’d know whether to consider them or not.”

“Not,” said Jade, following her. “Where are you going now?”

“To the main parlor. I want to ooze into that soft leather chair and never get up.”

“You sit in that and you probably won’t. Not without a couple of porters at least.”

Beverly slapped at Jade playfully and settled herself into the chair. Jade went back, picked up the shield, and hung it back on the wall.

“Good to know that you haven’t changed, Jade,” said Beverly. “Let me see your tattoo.”

Jade undid her left cuff and exposed the crescent lion’s claw she had received along with her Swahili name, Simba Jike.

“Not that one,” said Beverly. “The one those Berbers gave you in Morocco.”