Mark of the Lion (27 page)

“I didn’t. He cheated me out of a broodmare last month.”

“Was that Mr. Kenton’s regular business?” asked Jade. “Cheating people?”

“Yes, but the bast—er, the scoundrel always managed to do it legally, or at least in such a way that a man could not charge him with anything.”

Jade nodded her understanding. “Then that explains why so few people came to mourn him. But back to my original question. Why did you come?”

“Satisfaction, I suppose. And to make certain the man was really dead.”

Madeline made a slight snort of disbelief, and Jade put her hand on Maddy’s arm. “Oh, we can vouch for that, Mr. Donaldson,” said Jade. “They found most of him, but in bits and pieces. Most men don’t recover from injuries like that.”

She paused a moment before asking him her next question. “Do you think this was an accident, Mr. Donaldson? I mean, what in the world could he have been doing out there?” Jade intentionally did not state just where “out there” was. When she had told the commissioner about the car, she had suggested he keep the location of its discovery at the flumes quiet since only the killer would know it. It might lead the person into revealing something since everyone else assumed Kenton had died on Colridge’s farm. The commissioner had not been overly impressed by the idea at the time.

Mr. Donaldson put his hands in his coat pocket. “I heard the old boy was in two spots, and I don’t mean after his death.” He snickered. “Probably met a lady friend at the flumes, then headed off to Colridge’s estate for some dalliance,” he added as he waggled his eyebrows.

Jade gritted her teeth. Her suggestion to the commissioner had fallen on deaf ears.

“Then why hasn’t the woman come forward?” asked Madeline. “Why wasn’t she killed?”

Donaldson chuckled. “Several reasons, Mrs. Thompson, perhaps not obvious to a polite lady such as yourself.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “One,
she
killed him. Two, she’s married and doesn’t need trouble from hubby. Three, and my personal favorite, it’s an accident, and she wasn’t killed because she could outrun him.” He slapped his thighs in obvious glee. “Anyway, he’s gone and good riddance. If it was murder, and I doubt it, we’d all just as soon buy the guilty party a drink as turn her or him in. And,” he added, “that includes the widow
and
the commissioner. Kenton caused enough trouble that the commissioner’s workload will lighten visibly.” He touched his hat brim in farewell and headed for his car.

Madeline put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Well, that was by far the most outrageous …” She ended with another exasperated sniff.

“Yes, it was,” agreed Jade. She caught sight of the commissioner and tugged Maddy’s arm. “I want to speak with him.”

Jade succeeded in capturing the commissioner’s attention before he left the cemetery. “Sir, why did you reveal where the car was found?”

The commissioner leaned back as though he sensed he was under attack. “Miss del Cameron, I wasn’t aware you headed our criminal bureau.”

Jade pressed her point. “All sarcasm aside, sir, that was potentially valuable information.”

“Only if a crime was committed, miss. There is no evidence of that.”

Jade sucked in her breath in a frustrated hiss. “The car’s location
was
the evidence. It proves his body was moved.”

The commissioner puffed out his chest like a posing gamecock and looked down his nose at her, a task rendered more difficult as they were the same height. “As we discussed earlier, a large carnivore dragged the body away.”

Jade shook her head. “Carnivores don’t drag full-grown men over six miles cross-country. He had enemies, sir. Lots of them. He cheated Donaldson out of a broodmare. He tried to get Harry Hascombe’s cattle killed by starting another false anthrax scare.”

“He cheated on his wife,” added Madeline.

The commissioner raised his right hand for the two women to stop. “Calm yourselves, Miss del Cameron, Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Kenton does not care to have this matter pursued. She only wants to bury her husband and the past. And,” he added quickly when he saw Jade inhale in preparation for another attack, “without other evidence of foul play, there is nothing I can do.”

Jade saw the futility of pressing her point. She took a different tack. “Have you learned anything else about Gil Worthy that can help shed light on finding his son or his killer?”

The commissioner assumed a look of patronizing patience. “Still on that as well, Miss del Cameron? You read too much into ordinary deaths.” He waved his hand at the headstones. “Only look around you. You will find many deaths attributed to animal attacks here.” He saw Jade’s dark brows furrow and stepped back a pace.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow on safari to Tsavo,” she said. “When I return, I plan to continue my inquiries.” Jade pulled a slip of notepaper from her pocket. “Here are the names of guests in the Norfolk at the time of Gil Worthy’s death. I presume you’ll want to interview them.”

The commissioner glanced at the list. “John Smith! You must be joking.”

Jade shook her head. “I don’t suppose there’s much use in my asking about what’s been done about this
laibon
that terrorized the Kikuyu village, is there? Kenton supposedly cheated Maasai out of cattle. Perhaps a
laibon
killed him.”

“Really, miss. Killed by native witchcraft?” He snorted. “As I understand it, you took care of the
laibon
already when you killed his hyena.” He doffed his hat to them. “Good day, ladies.” He turned on his heel and strode briskly away.

Jade folded her arms across her chest. “Well, that was a waste of breath.”

Madeline patted her on the shoulder. “You did very well, my dear. Really, one cannot move stubborn male mountains. But do you really suspect a
laibon
for all these deaths?”

Jade shoved her hands into her skirt pockets. “I suppose it does sound silly, but I can’t shake the suspicion that all these deaths are related.” What, she wondered, was the connection between Kikuyu natives, Godfrey Kenton, and Gil Worthy? Someone may have wanted to stop Gil before he found his son in Tsavo. That would also explain the attacks on her.

“When I find the son, I’ll find the connection.”

THE TWO DAYS BEFORE THE SAFARI blew by in a whirlwind of last-minute shopping for “woolies,” more socks, another pair of heavy trousers suitable for the thorny bush, and any other items deemed indispensable.

All nonpersonal items such as tents, cots, mess gear, blankets, and food had already been sent ahead in boxes with the hired porters and Roger on the return train after the Dunburys’ arrival. They would travel by train as far as the Tsavo station, where an oxcart waited. From there, the porters would hike west towards Kilimanjaro and set up camp. Roger would wait for the hunting party at the Tsavo depot.

On the day of departure, the party convened on the Nairobi station platform in midafternoon to wait for the returning train south. The usual laughing children, scolding sentries, native women and their produce, and assorted colonists crowded the platform. Above all the ruckus rumbled the voice of Harry Hascombe, first hunter for the safari.

“Good day, Jade,” his deep baritone voice purred. “Pity about poor Miles and his leg. I presume everyone else is ready.”

“Yes, and allow me to introduce you to Lord Avery and Lady Beverly Dunbury.”

Harry shook hands with Avery, and the two men sized each other up. They matched in height, but Harry’s build was far more powerful than Avery’s slighter, almost willowy frame. Jade didn’t doubt, however, that in a test of courage, it would be a very close match. Avery had taken nearly as many risks as David during the war, and Harry had already shown at Ruiru that he didn’t care to be bested by anyone.
This could be interesting,
she thought.
Two bulls sparring for dominance.
Jade wondered where Roger fit into this herding scenario.

“I brought the hyena skin to town with me, Jade,” Harry said. He released Avery’s grip but kept his eyes riveted on the younger man’s face. “Took it to the hotel. They’ll keep it for you.” Beverly, disgusted by the dominant-male staring contest, held out her hand.

“How do you do, Mr. Hascombe?”

Harry tipped his battered, wide-brimmed felt hat to her and to Madeline, who stayed in the background. Pili sat quietly behind them near their luggage. “Good day, ladies. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Dunbury.” Harry kissed Beverly’s hand. Avery scowled.

Beverly grinned. “Mercy, I do love hearing people say my new name. I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Hascombe. Jade has told us so much about you.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Lady Dunbury.” He flashed a wide, roguish smile that exposed all his white teeth. “I’m much worse than all that.” He turned back to Avery. “What are you carrying for weapons, Your Lordship?” The title sounded mocking, coming from Harry.

“First of all,” said Avery, “drop the title. There’s little room for that nonsense in the field. I’d hate to see myself mauled because someone was busy spitting out ‘Your Lordship’ instead of just shouting ‘lion.’ ”

Jade agreed. “Reminds me of the American author James Fenimore Cooper. No one could have survived the wilderness if they talked as much as his Hawkeye did. He once spent an entire paragraph warning everyone to be silent lest the Iroquois hear them. With his gums flapping, they should have been dead, scalps neatly hanging on a belt.”

Everyone laughed and, with the previous tension relieved, Harry and Avery began conversing more genially about their hunting rifles. They were still talking when they heard the train approaching. Pili rose from his seat like a white phantom and picked up Jade’s new rifle and ammo box. Harry noticed him for the first time and looked at him in surprise. Jade wasn’t sure what surprised him more, her new rifle or having Lord Colridge’s personal man for a gun bearer. She didn’t ask. Memories of their last dance flooded her mind, and she decided the less private conversation she had with Harry the better.

They boarded the train with their personal gear and sped off towards Tsavo and Colonel Patterson’s famous bridge. It was there that two man-eaters had claimed more than a hundred railroad workers as victims before Patterson managed to kill them. Harry sat alone in the back of the car. Avery seated himself next to Pili, and Beverly and Madeline sat together and compared Jade stories. Jade first sat in front of the other women, but after announcing, “I don’t need to hear all those blasted lies and tall tales,” she moved over closer to Avery and Pili.

The small-gauge engine stopped frequently for water, and the station names of Machakos Road, Kiu, Sultan Hamud, and Simba rolled out of the passengers’ view and into their memories. Most of the stops were merely at water towers. Some had high-walled stone buildings maintained by the railroad for workers or for travelers on foot either hoping to catch the train or just there to pass the night in something more defensible than a ring of thorny brush.

Later on the train, a porter brought tea (to Jade’s disgust), and they dined on scones (courtesy of the Norfolk) and tinned beef. The party was in high spirits. At first, everyone amused themselves with looking through the smoked-glass windows at distant herds of wildebeest or giraffes and debated whether or not that golden tan lump in the grass was a rock or a lion. When the train whistled to chase away an animal, they placed bets on what it would be and laughed as the frightened kongoni or any other antelope raced away.

Avery declared his desire to try for one of the sable antelope if only the train would stop long enough for him to get off a shot and retrieve the carcass. He opened the window for a better look and was met with the universal red dust of the plains. His wife coughed loudly, the window was closed, and the sable antelope survived another day.

Eventually, the air inside their car became more stifling in the late-afternoon heat, the tinned beef lay heavily in their stomachs, and the passengers grew lethargic. Antelope herds ceased to interest anyone. No one cared about the pseudolions anymore, and Avery protested that the engineer should “stop the bloody whistle and just run down any infernal animal foolish enough to stand betwixt the metals.”