Diamond Legacy (18 page)

With a resigned shrug, Miranda smiled at her friend. “Would you believe a camel with an attitude?”

“Yes, I would. A moment ago I saw Roz riding the back of a sheep.”

Miranda laughed. “Now that would be fun to see.” She began tugging wooden chairs back into place. “Is Free Day always this crazy?”

“Each one crazier than the last, from what I hear.”

A refreshing breeze blew under the open sides of the tent, and Miranda lifted her face to enjoy it. Long anticipated autumn temperatures had arrived that morning, sweeping across the savannah on the wind. The cooler air couldn’t have had better timing.

Loose papers ruffled in the wind, skittering across the ground, and Miranda quickly jumped to gather them as Letta pulled over an empty box. Together they stacked the pamphlets and papers inside.

“So, does he remember?”

Miranda glanced at her in confusion. “What?”

Letta rolled her eyes. “The kiss? You weren’t sure if it was real?”

A heated blush threatened as the scene from the storage room flashed by in vivid detail. “Oh, that. I’m fairly certain it’s real.”

“Really?” Her eyes grew round. “What changed your mind?”

Miranda battled over what to reveal, unsure if she should say anything at all, given the circumstances.

“Well, well. What have we here?” Miranda looked up to spy Diana, the unfriendly librarian, standing at the corner of the tent with her arms crossed. Her patronizing gaze slid over the mess with something akin to delight. “Typhoon Letta strike again?”

Miranda would’ve ignored the woman if her friend hadn’t stiffened at the insult.

“Hello, Diana. Come to help or just cast aspersions?”

“Actually, I’m looking for Matthew.” She brushed her blond hair off her shoulder and pushed her chest out, displaying ample bosom over the low-cut peasant blouse she wore. “I promised him a tour of the library.” Her look turned sultry. “Now would be perfect timing. Everyone is…occupied.”

Now it was Miranda’s turn to stiffen.

“And you can see he’s not here.” Letta didn’t try to hide her dislike. “I believe I heard him say he’s headed into town for supplies,” she lied.

Diana’s smirk said she knew otherwise. “If you see him”—she stared straight at Miranda—“make sure to tell him I’m available.”

Her words were spiteful and solely for her benefit. Miranda knew that, but they still stung.

“Shameless
doffie
,” Letta mumbled under her breath. “Like he’d ever stoop so low.”

Perhaps not. But there was an investigation to perform, and Matt couldn’t anger a potential source. It would defeat the whole purpose. She understood that but didn’t like it. Not that she should care. Her lust, and his willingness to oblige, didn’t a relationship make.

A sour taste formed in her mouth as she watched the woman walk away.

“That woman is mean spirited.” Letta picked up the remaining rubble and tossed it in the box. “Don’t even think she stands a chance.”

“It doesn’t matter, Letta.” Miranda set about clearing the dismantled table. “Matt and I have only had one date. He’s free to play the field.” It was true, but she didn’t like hearing herself say it.

Her friend snorted, but let it go. “Well, today should not be all work. Having fun is required. Have you seen any other booths yet?”

Miranda shook her head and cast another glance Diana’s way. She’d stopped to talk to a man, one that looked suspiciously familiar. Miranda peered closer and recognition dawned. It was the nightshade Graham had argued with in the parking lot before she and Matt followed him to the mansion.

How very interesting. Diana connected to the smuggling ring? It made sense. Someone on the inside to manipulate paperwork, keep watch over inquiries. Undoubtedly why she called in Graham that day in the library.

“You need to find time to shop the vendors,” Letta was saying. “At the back of the lot there’s a Kenya furniture maker who uses Acacia wood from trees knocked down by wild elephants.”

Diana and the delinquent headed off, heads bent together in discussion.

Turning back to Letta, Miranda made a split second decision. “Can you stay here and wait for Jason and Matt to return?”

Letta’s brows dipped in confusion. “Yes, but—”

“Great.” Miranda didn’t have time to explain. “I’ll be back shortly to help set things up.”

She took off after Diana.

They wove their way through a maze of tents and plywood booths as Miranda shadowed their footsteps, careful to stay several steps behind. Blending in was easy. People were everywhere, laughing, talking, and dragging every animal under the sun through the throng.

She followed her target to the back of the parking lot where they left the pavement and picked up the stone walking trail to the stables. Miranda stopped at the last booth, idly picking over the leather crafts on display until Diana and company disappeared inside the front doors of the main stable.

Miranda hurried down the trail in their wake. The front door wasn’t an option, so she rounded the right wing and bent to squeeze through the split-rail corral fence. Spartan, an ancient quarter horse in permanent residency, pranced in excitement at her arrival. But she had no sweet apple for him this time and kept to the fence line, aiming straight for the stable.

Cracking open a stall’s back gate, she peeked in. Totally empty, so she slipped silently inside and took stock of her surroundings. In terms of cover, there wasn’t much beyond a big, fresh pile of hay mounded in one corner. There was also a thick layer of sand used to cushion hooves, and it muffled her steps as she crossed to the inside half-door. She pressed against the wall beside it and listened.

Voices emanated from the spacious central aisle, close enough to hear, far enough away to give her a false sense of security.

“When am I getting my money?” Diana. And she sounded miffed.

“Your
doffie
is always whining, Neil.”

Neil had to be the nightshade, the other man’s voice too threatening to belong to the scrawny messenger she and Matt saw the other night.

“Little problems lead to bigger complications,” the man continued to say. “Perhaps we should call this off?”

“
Non, brah
. No problem here. Ignore the girl and gimme the skinner.” Neil’s voice fit with the bony, high-strung weasel his appearance implied.

Miranda inched closer to the door and risked a peek at the other man, but luck wasn’t with her. The angle was way off. Her only clue was that he was a smart dresser in a white, neatly pressed, long-sleeved shirt and a dark pair of Chinos. Totally out of place in a stable. And who wore long sleeves in eighty-five-degree weather?

“Unhappy women make for bad business,” the man said coldly.

“I can take care of it,” Neil promised.

Though Diana snorted, the implication of his words worried Miranda.

“The samples your
skelm
demanded are in,” the man said. “Tonight at ten.”

“At Glory Hill?” asked Neil.

“Of course,” the man stated with a humorless chuckle. “The fact that he hates my presence there adds a certain charm to the meeting place.”

A loud bang resounded from outside the stall, and Miranda rigidly pressed back against the wall, staring in horror at Spartan scratching at the gate, wanting inside.

“I thought you said we were alone?” the mystery man barked.

“We are,” came Neil’s sharp reply.

Panic flared and Miranda dove for the hay pile. She fiercely dug in, burying herself under as much hay as she could fling in three seconds flat.

“Why are you standing there?” the man shouted. “Check it out!”

Another bang. Miranda couldn’t tell if it was the horse again or the slamming open of the stall door. Fear pounded in her heart, loud enough to wake the dead. Afraid to move a muscle or even breathe, she closed her eyes and prayed the hay left nothing exposed.

“It’s only a stupid pony,” Neil claimed, his voice sounding right beside her.

Chaff slid down her shirt and scratched against bare skin. She ignored it. Then a tickle began in her nose, the dust threatening to make her sneeze.

“Why is it here?” the man asked.

“What do you think?” Diana smarted off. “We’re in a stable.”

“This meeting is over.” The frigidness of the man’s tone made Miranda wonder at Diana’s sanity. Sarcasm didn’t seem the wisest choice for dealing with thugs, no matter how smartly dressed they were.

“Shut your hole, Diana,” Neil barked as he joined them back in the aisle. “Tonight at ten, we will be there.”

“Bring some glass for verification,” the man said. “And leave the
doffie
at home.”

Their footsteps faded. Miranda counted to fifty and popped her head out. Inhaling deep, she filled her lungs with the pungent aroma of the stable. Never had it smelled so good. She climbed out of the pile of straw and peeked around the half door. She was alone.

With a heavy sigh of relief she began brushing bits of hay from her clothing and hair. Spartan kicked the gate again and stared at her expectantly.

“Traitor!” she whispered. “You nearly blew my cover.”

The horse neighed softly, tossing his head.

With a shake of her head, she crossed the stall and rubbed the old horse’s muscled neck. “I know, it’s not your fault, boy.”

He nudged her hand with his soft brown nose, sniffing for his treat.

“I’m sorry, fella. Rain check this time.”

Right now, she needed to find Matt.

When Miranda arrived back at the tent, an army of people swarmed beneath the canvas. Repairs had been made, business was booming, and Matt was nowhere in sight. Impatience nagged at her as she searched the crowd.

“There you are!” Jason emerged and tossed her a stethoscope.

“Wait a minute—”

“Sorry, no time.” Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her toward a small herd of sheep and gave a little shove. “Your kingdom awaits.”

In less than two seconds, she was surrounded by the musty smell of wet wool. Eight sheep, all recently sheered and bathed, blocked any hope she had of escape. Left with little choice, she shelved her need to find Matt and reached for the nearest sheep. It bleated a friendly greeting when she scratched it between the ears.

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest?” She caressed its soft ears. “Where’s your owner? Hmm?”

“Registering his flock with an intern,” said a familiar voice behind her.

She whirled about with a gasp of relief.

“Are you trying to worry me to death, Miranda?” Matt sounded annoyed as he reached over and pulled a blade of straw from her hair, narrowing his eyes on her.

For expediency sake, she ignored his tone and cast a furtive glance around before whispering, “I have news.”

He exhaled heavily and raked a hand through his hair, returning his neatly brushed mane back to its normal state of disarray. “When Letta said you left suddenly, I knew you were up to trouble.”

“Hey, opportunity knocked and you weren’t around.” She could almost take offense at his lack of faith in her. “I answered.”

His jaw remained rigid. “Under no circumstances are you to strike off on your own like that.”

“You’ll change your mind when you hear what I discovered.”

He practically growled. “You aren’t listening to me.”

“More like the other way around,” she snapped back. “We need to talk.”

His lips tightened into a flat line. If it weren’t for the crowd, he’d be scolding her to high heaven.

“I saw Diana and that guy from the parking lot.”

That finally got his attention. “The one that met Graham?”

“Yes, and he—”

“
Ke kopa
F-M-D, Ben-net.”

Matt dropped his head for a frustrated second, then turned to the newcomer with a smile of welcome. “Meet Bheki,” Matt said to her. “He says his sheep need FMD. Know what that means?”

“Of course,” she answered drolly. Though like Matt, she gave a friendly smile for the shepherd. “Hello, Bheki,” she said warmly.

Clad in a sand color tunic roped at the waist, he looked the part of a movie-classic shepherd fresh from the desert. “
Dumela
, Doc-tor.”

“Any foot-and-mouth disease in your herd?” she asked as she pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves.

“
Non
, Doc-tor. These clean sheeps.”

She nodded absently and reached for the first animal, but it skittered away from her touch. Like Mazey, it seemed agitated by the crowd.

She tossed Matt a lab coat. “You’ve just been promoted to assistant.”

“Oh, no,” he protested. “I’m not qualified for this kind of work.”

“Consider it on-the-job training. It’s the best kind.”

His eyes cut to the sheep and he hesitated.

“Don’t tell me you were attacked by a crazed lamb, too?” she teased.

He gave her a disgruntled glare. “Do your worst, Dr. Doolittle. I can handle whatever you throw my way.”

With a satisfied grin, Miranda culled the first sheep from the group and steered her toward Matt. He stood there staring at it.

“It’s easier to hold them if you’re at their level,” she said with a lift of her brow.

With a resigned sigh, he dropped to his knees. She joined him there and donned her stethoscope. “Keep her distracted while I listen to her heart and lungs.”

Matt gathered the animal’s rope close to the scruff and scratched her between the ears. Miranda immediately set to work.

“So, Diana, the friendly librarian is involved,” Matt said under his breath. “Makes sense. The person monitoring Katanga’s records can hide a lot.”

Miranda glanced over at Bheki, but he was talking to another and paid them no mind. “The first guy Diana met was named Neil.”

“The first—” The sheep bleated in protest over Miranda’s exam, and Matt tightened his hold. “How many men were there?”

“Just two.” Miranda continued her inspection, moving to the sheep’s teeth and gums. “But the second guy was much scarier.”

“What were they doing?”

“Diana met Neil outside the tent here, and I followed them to the stable.” She sifted through the medicines for a syringe of vaccine. “That’s where they met a man way too overdressed for a clandestine meeting in a barn.”