Death in Kenya (23 page)

‘
You!
You mean he thinks— You think——' Victoria's voice stopped on a gasp and she pushed back her chair and stood up, gripping the edge of the table. ‘Aunt Em, you can't think he did it! You
can't!
'

‘No, of course I don't,' said Em with a return of impatience. ‘Sit down, child. I will not have hysterics. They do not help at all, and after Lisa I have had enough of them to last me a good many years. Neither does Drew think I did it – on purpose. But only two people touched Gilly. Myself and Drew. I made two cuts in his arm and gave him a full strength dose of snake serum, and Drew gave him a great deal of brandy. You cannot do that sort of thing to a man who is having a heart attack without killing him. And then again, if someone did give him poison to ensure that he died, then it was given in one of four ways. It might have been on the blade of the knife, or in the iodine, or the syringe, or in the brandy. Though of course there is always a fifth possibility: that he was given something at luncheon. But Zacharia had washed up all the glasses in the lake. I asked.

Victoria sat down again and stared at her aunt. She said imploringly: ‘It isn't true. They'll find out that it was only snake-bite, won't they? The doctors will know. It
must
have been snake-bite.'

Em shook her head. ‘People who have been bitten by poisonous snakes do not die like that. It's a pity Drew was there. Probably no one else would have noticed details. Or if they had, they'd have kept their mouths shut.'

‘But if it was murder——'

‘There are some things that are worse than murder,' said Em wearily. ‘Trials, hanging, suspicion, miscarriage of justice.' She stubbed out her cigarette and quoted in an undertone: ‘
Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further.
Hmm. Gilly was fond of quoting Shakespeare. That would have appealed to him I imagine.
Malice domestic
 … I wonder——'

She relapsed into brooding silence, looking exhausted and ill, and Victoria eyed her in some disquiet and wished fervently that Eden would return. But although it was by now well past nine o'clock there was still no sign of him, and when Em had gone to bed Victoria went out into the dark verandah to listen for the car.

The moon was already high and the lawns and the trees were silver-white and patched with black shadows, and once again from somewhere down by the shamba and the papyrus swamp, birds were calling.

A bat flickered along the verandah almost brushing Victoria's head, and something moved in the shadows and sent her heart into her mouth; but it was only Pusser, the
Flamingo
cat, who had evidently been asleep in one of the wicker chairs.

Victoria was annoyed to find that her heart was racing and that she was breathing as quickly as though she had been running. Why didn't Eden come back? What were they doing – he and Drew? It was hours since they had left Crater Lake with Gilly Markham's body.

Somewhere in the house a clock struck ten, and the light in the dining-room, where Zacharia had been putting away the silver, was turned out. Victoria heard his shuffling footsteps retreating down the hall and then the sound of a door closing. And all at once the house was deathly quiet and only the night outside was full of small sounds.

Victoria clutched at the sides of her chair and glanced quickly over her shoulder at the open doorway that led into the hall, but the silent house seemed more frightening to her than the moonlit garden, and she stayed where she was, tense and listening, until at last she heard the faint, far-away purr of a car.

The sound grew louder and nearer, and presently the yellow glare of headlights lit up the pepper trees and threw long black shadows across the sweep of the drive, and Eden walked up the verandah steps and checked at the sight of Victoria.

‘Vicky! What are you doing here! You ought to be in bed. Did you wait up for us?'

‘Us?' said Victoria. And saw then that Drew Stratton and young Mr Hennessy of the police were with him.

‘Drew brought me back. It was his car. And Bill has been sent along to keep an eye on us and see that none of us makes a break for the border. They're staying the night. We thought it would be more convenient, as Greg wants to see us all in the morning. They can share the double bed in the blue room, and I hope one of them snores!'

He stopped by the hall door and said suddenly: ‘There's nothing wrong, is there? Is Gran all right?'

‘No. I mean, there's nothing wrong. Aunt Em went to bed. I stayed up because – because I didn't feel like going to sleep.'

‘You look as though you could do with it, all the same,' said Eden as the light from the hall fell on her face. ‘How's Lisa?'

‘All right, I think. Aunt Em wanted her to stay here, but she wouldn't. Mrs Brandon is spending the night with her.'

‘Good for Mabel. She won't enjoy it!'

There was a solitary table lamp burning in a corner of the drawing-room, and Eden switched on every other light and said: ‘That's better! Vicky, I suppose you couldn't be a darling and rustle us up some coffee and sandwiches, could you? We've just driven back from Nairobi. I ought to have 'phoned, but I didn't want Em asking all sorts of awkward questions with half the Valley listening in on the party line.'

Victoria said: ‘There's both in the dining-room. Aunt Em said you'd probably need something when you got back. Wait, and I'll fetch it.'

‘Bless you,' said Eden, sinking gratefully into an arm-chair, ‘and her. God, I'm tired!'

He lay back and shut his eyes, and looking down at him Victoria felt protective and maternal and as though, in some strange way, she had suddenly grown up.

She became aware that she herself was being watched, and turning her head met Drew Stratton's cool, level gaze. But tonight there was no hostility in his blue eyes; only interest and a faint trace of surprise. Victoria returned his look gravely, and then went away to fetch the Thermos flasks and the chicken sandwiches that Zacharia had left on the sideboard in the dining-room.

There was a light on in the hall, but the two long passages that led off it were full of shadows, and the house was as quiet as Crater Lake had been. Was it waiting for something to happen, as Crater Lake had waited? But that was absurd! thought Victoria impatiently. There was nothing wrong with the house; only with herself and her unruly imagination.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings
– Gilly … Gilly had been fond of quoting Shakespeare, and Gilly was dead. What was it that Em had said?
Nor steel, nor poison, malice domestic … nothing can touch him further.
Yes, he was safe – if death were safety. But Eden and Aunt Em? and she herself, Victoria? – what about them?

Victoria shivered again, and setting her teeth, opened the dining-room door and groped for the light switches.

A single bulb in a red shade illuminated the sideboard but left the remainder of the room in shadow, and without waiting to turn on any more, Victoria collected a laden tray, and turned to see Drew Stratton standing behind her.

She had not heard him enter, and she was so startled that she would have dropped the tray if Drew had not taken it from her. He frowned at the sight of her white face and wide eyes, and said: ‘What's the matter? Didn't you hear me?'

‘No,' said Victoria breathlessly. ‘You startled me.'

‘I can see I did. You ought not to have stayed up. I suppose you've been sitting around alone, frightening yourself stiff?'

‘Something like that,' admitted Victoria with a wan smile. ‘What are you doing with that tray?'

‘Making quite sure that the contents are as advertised,' said Drew. ‘Though as I see that it wasn't only Eden who was expected, I imagine it's safe enough. Who made this? You?'

He had put the tray back on the sideboard and was unscrewing the cap of the Thermos.

‘No. I suppose Zacharia did. Or the cook. Why?'

Drew did not reply. He removed the cork and poured a small quantity of coffee into one of the cups, smelt it suspiciously, and then put the tip of his finger into it and touched it cautiously to his tongue.

The import of the action was suddenly and horribly clear to Victoria, and she drew back with a gasp and put her hands to her throat: ‘You c-can't— You can't think——' Once again she could not finish a sentence, for her breath appeared to have failed her.

Drew said: ‘Seems all right.' He replaced the cork and turned his attention to the sandwiches, and after a moment or two said: ‘How many people did Em order coffee for?'

‘I – I don't know. She just said that Eden might want something when he came back, but she spoke to Zacharia in Swahili, so I don't know what she said.'

‘Hmm,'
said Drew thoughtfully. ‘They all knew that as Eden had gone in my car, I'd probably be bringing him back. But there are four cups. If the extra two were Zacharia's idea, it shows that the old gentleman has more on the ball than one would imagine and had realized that someone from the police would come back with us. Which is interesting, to say the least of it.'

Victoria said huskily: ‘Why have they sent a policeman here? Why not to the Markhams' bungalow? Why to us?'

‘It isn't only to us. By this time there will not only be one at the Markhams' bungalow, but another at the Brandons.'

‘Why? Is it—
Was
Gilly murdered?'

Drew replaced the sandwiches and looked up, frowning. ‘Now what gave you that idea?'

‘Aunt Em said you thought he h-had been. Was he?'

‘Yes,' said Drew briefly, and picked up the tray.

Victoria had hardly slept at all during the previous night and had endured a harrowing day, and the effects were telling upon her. She began to shiver violently, and Drew put the tray down abruptly and took her into his arms.

It was an entirely unexpected action, but an astonishingly comforting one, and Victoria found herself clinging to him as frantically as though he had been a life line in a cold sea. His arms were warm and close and reassuring, and presently she stopped shivering and relaxed against him; feeling safe for perhaps the first time since her arrival at
Flamingo,
and suddenly and surprisingly sleepy. She turned her head against his shoulder and yawned, and Drew laughed and released her.

‘You know,' he said, ‘this is painfully like one of those detective novels in which just as the plot is getting littered with clues and corpses, the heroine holds up the action for three pages with a sentimental scene. Are you coming into the drawing-room to drink coffee with us, or would you rather go to bed?'

‘Bed,' said Victoria; and yawned again.

Drew accompanied her down the dark passage to her room, and having turned on the light for her, subjected the room to a careful scrutiny.

‘No one in the cupboards or under the bed. And Bill Hennessy and I will be in the next room, and Eden only a few doors off. So you've nothing to panic about. I must get back or I shall have the police after me. You all right now?'

‘Yes,' said Victoria, and smiled sleepily at him.

Drew took her chin in his hand and bent his head and kissed her quite casually and gently, and went away down the long dark passage, leaving her looking blankly at the panels of the door that he had closed behind him.

*   *   *

It was well past eight o'clock when Victoria awoke to the sound of knocking on her door, and unlocked it to admit an aggrieved Majiri who had apparently made several earlier attempts to rouse her.

The day, thought Victoria, blinking at the sunlight, could hardly be a pleasant one, but it was difficult to believe that horrible and frightening things could happen while the sun shone and the breeze smelt of geraniums and orange blossom, and the lake glittered like a vast aquamarine set in a ring of gold and emeralds. And yet Gilly was dead.

Duncan is in his grave …

She dressed hurriedly and went out to the verandah to find that Eden, Drew and the young policeman were already half-way through their breakfast, and that Em was having hers in bed.

Lisa and Mabel, both looking white and exhausted, arrived just as the breakfast things were being cleared away, escorted by a police officer who left them at the verandah steps and disappeared round the back of the house.

Mabel was wearing the same crumpled cotton frock that she had worn on the previous day, and she did not look as though she had slept at all, while for the first time in anyone's recollection Lisa Markham had paid little or no attention to her personal appearance. It was also equally evident that she was frightened.

Victoria had offered her some black coffee, and she had gulped it down thirstily, her teeth chattering against the rim of the cup, and replacing it clumsily on the table had let it fall to the ground, where it had smashed into half a dozen pieces.

It had been one of the Rockingham cups, but Lisa had offered no apology or even appeared to notice what she had done. Em, appearing on the verandah arrayed like Solomon in all his glory, had glanced at the broken fragments and made no comment. She had nodded at Mabel, Lisa and Drew, bestowed an affectionate kiss on Victoria and a more perfunctory one on Eden, and ignored Mr Bill Hennessy, who blushed pinkly and looked acutely uncomfortable. And then Hector and Ken had arrived with a third policeman who, after a brief colloquy with Mr Hennessy, also departed round the back of the house.

‘I suppose you will all be staying to luncheon,' said Em morosely, surveying the assembled company without pleasure. ‘If we are going to spend the entire morning being interrogated, we had better——'

She was interrupted by Lisa, who stood up abruptly and announced in quivering tones that she did not feel at all well: certainly not well enough to answer any questions today from Greg Gilbert or anyone else. That she had only come over because Mabel had said she must, but if she had known that Greg was going to be so inconsiderate and unfeeling as to expect her to undergo a police grilling when——