Death in Kenya (16 page)

‘Don't worry,' said Eden, ‘it'll only be Drew's car. His driver was bringing it round.'

But it was not Mr Stratton's car. It was Mr Gilbert's, and a moment later, accompanied by the Markhams, he walked on to the verandah; and at the sight of his face they all came quickly to their feet.

Greg dispensed with formalities and came straight to the point: ‘Hennessy tells me that one of your Kikuyu boys has disappeared. Kamau.'

He ignored Drew, Eden and Victoria, and addressed himself solely to Em, while behind him Lisa fidgeted and twisted her fingers, her pretty face sulky and apprehensive, and Gilly leaned against a verandah pillar with a studied negligence that was belied by the avid interest that was plainly visible in his restless eyes.

Em said coldly and defiantly: ‘Yes. And I presume, as you have brought Lisa and Gilly with you, that you know why.'

‘Hennessy told me why. It seems that you told him of Mrs Markham's visit to you yesterday, and I came down to see what I could get out of this woman Wambui.'

Lisa gave a little whimpering sob. ‘I wish I hadn't said anything to anyone! I
wish
I hadn't! I only thought that Lady Emily ought to know.'

Mr Gilbert ignored the interruption. He said: ‘I got quite a lot out of her, but before we go any further I'd like to have your own account of exactly what happened yesterday; from Mrs Markham's arrival to the time you decided that Kamau wasn't going to turn up. Also what action, if any, you took about it this morning.'

Em looked at Greg Gilbert's grim unsmiling face, and her shrewd old eyes were puzzled and wary. She said slowly: ‘Let me see——' And for the second time that evening described Lisa's visit and the happenings of the hours that followed it, ending with her enquiries that morning as to Kamau's whereabouts, and her discovery, when Hennessy and his askaris had gone down to the labour lines to question the African employees and their families, that no one had seen him since Zacharia had delivered her message to him on the previous afternoon. Except, presumably, Wambui?

‘No, she didn't,' said Lisa with an air of conscious virtue. ‘I made a point of seeing that she couldn't get away last night. I thought that you should have every chance to speak to Kamau first, and as I said to Hector——'

She checked suddenly, her eyes and her mouth blank circles of dismay.

Greg turned with a swiftness that startled her, and said brusquely: ‘You told me that you had not mentioned this to anyone else. Not even your husband.'

‘Least of all her husband,' interpolated Gilly with an edge to his voice.

‘Shut up, Gilly! Did you tell Hector Brandon, Lisa?'

Lisa's large violet eyes filled with tears and she said querulously: ‘Don't bark at me, Greg! There's no need for you——'

‘
Did
you?'

‘Well – well, yes. But only in the strictest confidence. After all, I've known Hector for years, and I knew he wouldn't let it go any further. And I was very worried. You don't seem to realize——'

‘When did you tell him? Before you'd been over here, or afterwards?'

‘Oh, afterwards. Because of course by then I was sure that Lady Emily would get it all out of Kamau, and then everything would be all right. I mean, at least we'd all
know.
'

‘Hmm,' said Greg disagreeably. He stared at her long and meditatively until she reddened under his gaze, and then turning away abruptly he addressed himself again to Em:

‘We've got search parties out looking for Kamau, and with luck we should pick him up without much trouble. He's probably made for the Reserve. But even when we get him I doubt if we'll get much more out of him than we got out of Wambui.'

Em said tartly: ‘You certainly won't if you start off by sending out your askaris to arrest him as though he'd done something criminal, when all he is guilty of is telling his girl-friend that he thinks he knows something about the murder.'

‘I'm afraid he told her more than that,' said Greg quietly.

Em stiffened suddenly and once again her eyes moved from Greg to Lisa, and she said haltingly: ‘But Lisa, you told me——' and stopped.

Lisa dragged at her handkerchief until the fabric tore, and her voice was high and hysterical: ‘I didn't know there was any more! I tell you I didn't know! I had no idea – she just said that he – he knew something. But if I'd known what it was I wouldn't have said a word! Eden, you
know
I wouldn't——'

Eden said in an entirely expressionless voice: ‘I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. Perhaps Greg will be good enough to explain.'

‘Yes,' said Em harshly. ‘If you have anything to say Greg, let us hear it and get it over.'

Mr Gilbert surveyed her thoughtfully, and there was something in his expression that frightened Victoria. He said slowly and deliberately: ‘Wambui told Mrs Markham that Kamau had hinted that he knew someting about Mrs DeBrett's murder. That was not true. He had done a good deal more than hint, but she was afraid to admit to anything else because his story is too fantastic to be believed.'

He paused, as though collecting his thoughts, and Em said grimly: ‘Go on.'

‘Kamau's story,' said Greg, ‘is that on Tuesday evening he waited for Wambui as usual among the bushes near the knoll, and that shortly after he got there he saw Mrs DeBrett arrive and start picking roses; so he lay low and waited for her to go away. But she sat down on the fallen tree and stayed there until it was nearly dark, and he began to get tired of waiting and must have made some movement in the bushes, for she jumped up as though she was alarmed and began to run away. And then, he said, he saw someone coming to meet her. Someone whom she knew, and ran to. And who killed her.'

‘No!'
cried Lisa, her voice shockingly shrill after Greg's quiet and unemotional tones. ‘She made it up! She must have done! I don't believe it!' She burst into noisy sobs, but no one had any attention to spare for her, for they were looking with a fixed and fascinated intensity at Greg Gilbert.

Eden said loudly: ‘If he saw who it was, why didn't he say so at once? – when he was questioned with the others? Why didn't——'

Em made a swift impatient gesture of the hand, silencing him, and Greg said slowly, frowning down at the matting as though he preferred not to meet the painfully intent stares that were fixed on him: ‘Wambui says it was because he recognized the murderer, and was afraid.'

‘Go on,' repeated Em, harshly and imperiously. ‘Who did he say it was?'

Greg removed his gaze from the matting and looked up, meeting her gaze squarely.

He said softly: ‘You, Em.'

10

There was a moment of complete and utter stillness, as though everyone on the verandah had been temporarily deprived of the power of speech or movement. The blood drained out of Em's face leaving it yellow and drawn and incredibly old, and she sat down heavily and abruptly as though her legs could no longer support her.

The protesting creak of the wicker-work chair broke the silence with the effect of a stone dropped into a quiet pool, and Eden said furiously: ‘What the hell d'you mean by making accusations like that! By God, I've a good mind to——' He took a swift stride forward, and Drew said sharply and compellingly: ‘Be quiet, Eden! You're only making matters worse.'

He reached out and caught Eden's arm, jerking him back, and Greg said: ‘I am not making any accusations – at the moment. I am merely repeating something that I have heard at second hand. Well, Em? How about it?'

Eden shook off Drew's restraining hand and said: ‘Don't answer him, Gran! If he's going to believe every silly fairy story cooked up by a half-witted African farm-hand, you'd better wait until you can see your lawyer!'

Em paid no attention to him. She looked at Greg with eyes that were blank with shock, and said slowly and as though it were an effort to speak: ‘What do you want me to say? That I did not kill Alice? But telling you so is not proof, is it? And I was here in the house that evening, so I suppose from your point of view I could have done it.'

‘Gran, for God's sake!' begged Eden.

‘Oh, Eden dear,
do
stop being so silly! Drew is quite right. It really does not help at all to lose our heads and shout – or collapse into tears, like Lisa. Surely we can behave in a rational manner? Sit down, Greg. You had better tell me what you propose to do about this – this extraordinary statement.'

Mr Gilbert drew up a chair and sat down facing her. He said: ‘We can't do much about it until we pull in Kamau and get him to verify it. What I want you to do is to give me an exact account of what happened that evening. Yes, I know we've been into this before, but I want it once again. You'd been out shooting, and got back just before six. What did you do then?'

‘I changed,' said Em patiently.

‘Into what? That Japanese job with storks all over it that you were wearing when I arrived later that night?'

‘No, of course not! That was a kimono. I changed into a house-coat. Yellow, if you want to know. But I had to take it off because——' She stopped suddenly, and after a brief pause said: ‘Because it had blood all over it. Yes … I can see that that doesn't sound good. But I couldn't help it. I'd tried to carry her up to the house, and – well, you saw her.'

‘Yes,' agreed Greg briefly. ‘What did you do then? After you'd changed into the house-coat?'

‘I came into the drawing-room for a drink, and saw Lisa's note asking for a lift into Nairobi – I'd left it on the piano – and Alice went over to tell her that I'd give her a lift when I went in to fetch Victoria.'

‘What did you do when she'd gone?'

‘Went out to tell Zach and Cookie about cutting up the kongoni, and after that I saw the dogs fed, and gave Majiri the curtains and covers from Victoria's room to wash – the water's always extra hot in the evenings, because of the baths. Zach came round just before half-past six and turned on the lights, and I told him to leave the drinks in the drawing-room. And then I played the piano.'

‘Until when?'

‘Until around eight o'clock, when he came in to say that Alice was still not back, and should he serve dinner? I hadn't realized it was so late, and I called the dogs and went off to fetch her.
Must
I go over all that part again?'

‘No. That's not the really important time from your point of view, as she must have been killed around seven o'clock, and you say you were playing the piano from six thirty onwards. That in itself is a reasonably good alibi.'

‘Why?' enquired Em with an attempt at a smile. ‘You've only my word for it.'

Greg consulted the notebook they had seen on the previous day, and said: ‘Not quite. Seven of your servants stated independently that the “Memsahib Mkubwa” had been playing during that time, and had not stopped for more than a minute or two at most. Certainly not long enough to murder Alice and then change into fresh clothes, as presumably even old Zacharia would have noticed bloodstains on a yellow house-coat! It couldn't have been done in under ten to fifteen minutes, and on a cross-check of the evidence you never stopped playing for anything like that.'

‘You've forgotten something,' said Em dryly. ‘I have an extremely good radio-gramophone, and not one of my servants would know the difference.'

Eden said hoarsely: ‘Gran, are you mad! Listen, Greg, she doesn't realize how serious this may be. She ought to have a lawyer. Drew, can't
you
stop this? Can't you make her see some sense?'

‘Your grandmother,' said Drew, ‘appears to me to be seeing it with extreme clarity. It would only be a question of time before someone else thought of that one, so she might just as well mention the radiogram herself.'

‘Exactly!' said Em approvingly. ‘Everyone knows about it – and about such things as long-playing records, too! I can see no point in laying claim to an alibi that is obviously as full of holes as a sieve. Besides I don't need one. I know quite enough about Kenya to know that no jury in this country is going to take such a charge seriously. And so does Greg! Because everyone knows me. If they did not, it might be possible to get a conviction on such evidence. After all, I am still tolerably strong – strong enough to kill a little weak defenceless creature like Alice who would have been too surprised to——'

Em's voice failed suddenly and she covered her face with her hands as though to blot out the horror that her own words had conjured up: the picture of Alice standing helpless and appalled in the dusk, too stunned with shock to scream or run. A strong shudder shook her bulky body and presently she lifted a ravaged face and staring, haunted eyes, and spoke in a voice that was barely more than a hoarse whisper:

‘I've seen a lot of bad things in my time. Men who were mauled by lions or trampled by buffalo or rhino. And – and there was Gus Abbott too. But they were men. I suppose that made it different. It's silly to feel like this. But – but she couldn't bear wounds and blood. I used to tell her that she shouldn't mind. But when I saw her that night, I minded too. I minded…'

Eden said: ‘Don't, Gran! Please——!' His face was as drawn and ravaged as her own, and, for a moment only, ugly with remembered horror. The sight of it seemed to act on Em like a douche of cold water, and she straightened her bowed shoulders with a palpable effort and said remorsefully: ‘Forgive me, dear. I'm behaving very badly. But then this is all so absurd. I wish I knew why Kamau should have said such a thing. Perhaps Wambui made it up?'

‘I don't think so,' said Greg. ‘I can usually tell when I'm being spun a yarn. I'd say she was speaking the truth. But was Kamau?'

‘Yes,' said Drew, abruptly and positively.