The Leopard's Prey (9 page)

“I see,” said Finch. “How is it then that you would trust him with your life, as you put it?”

“Because there
were
poachers on the mountain, Abyssinians by and large, led by a white man. These men tried to kill us, and kidnapped a young friend of mine. Sam went with me into the northern desert to get him back.”

“And then he killed these men.” It was a statement, not a question.

Jade didn’t like the direction this interview was taking. “No, he didn’t. He stopped me from killing them.”

Finch jerked his head up and stared at Jade. She decided then to destroy any notion the inspector had of Sam being a murderer. “He also saved my life and my mother’s in Morocco this past April. And again, he didn’t kill anyone to do it.”

“Did he stop
you
again?”

Jade realized that she’d just made herself a suspect. She recalled a similar interrogation a few months ago in Tangier. She didn’t like the feeling any better the second time around. “Actually, I never tried that time. Sam taught me on Marsabit that I’m not a killer. I drove an ambulance in the War, Inspector. I
save
lives. I don’t take them.”

“But you did shoot that man in Tsavo when you first came here.”

“I shot a hyena.”

“And the man happened to be inside it?” Finch didn’t wait for a reply. “So you and Mr. Featherstone are lovers.”

Jade felt her cheeks grow hot and knew she was blushing, something she rarely ever did. “No, we’re not. I thought you wanted to know about Sam’s
past
life.”

“And you are privy to that?”

“I know he attended Purdue University in the United States, where he studied mechanical engineering. He was a pilot in the American Expeditionary Forces during the war, and he lost his lower right leg as a result of shrapnel in the ankle.”

“And you know this how?”

“He told me.” As she said it, Jade knew her reply sounded flimsy. If Finch believed Sam had some mysterious past, he certainly wouldn’t take her word for the truth. But maybe he’d believe a higher source. “You might cable Lord Avery Dunbury in London. Sam and he are friends. He’ll verify all this.” As an afterthought she added, “The Dunburys can vouch for me as well.”

“I already have,” said Finch. “Yesterday afternoon, in fact, but I have not received any such reply, which makes me question that alleged friendship. I must instruct you not to speak of any of this to either of the Thompsons or to Mr. Featherstone.” He stood and motioned for her to follow him to a corner table. “I shall need a set of your fingerprints, if you please.”

There on the table was a shallow copper tray, thinly inked and smudged. He took a roller and carefully ran it back and forth over the tray, smoothing out the ink film to a uniform layer. “Spread your fingers, if you will.” Without asking for her permission, he took her right hand firmly but gently pressed each digit on the tray, then repeated the action, one finger at a time, across a clean page in a notebook. “And now with your left hand,” he said. Jade complied. “If you would please sign your name and the date in the corner, then you are excused.”

Jade signed the notebook and wiped her fingers on a proffered towel. Why, she wondered, hadn’t Avery replied immediately to Finch’s inquiry? Normally she would suspect he and Beverly had gone on holiday and weren’t reachable, but Beverly was over seven months pregnant; they weren’t going anywhere. Had something happened? Jade stepped out of the office. Her gaze immediately sought out and found Sam’s. The intensity of his expression told her that they were in more trouble than she cared to admit.
What did Finch get him to reveal? Is he worried that he incriminated me or himself?
She knew they hadn’t committed any crime, but that might not matter if Finch believed they did.

Madeline, on the other hand, seemed much more cheerful than when Jade had entered Finch’s office. She stood and hurried to Jade, waving the newspaper in front of her.

“Jade, wonderful news. Neville and I are going to adopt a little baby boy.”

CHAPTER 5

Ask anyone living in Kenya Colony to name the tribe that exemplifies Africa
to them, and most will say the Maasai. This is a tribe of warriors, strong in
their belief that Engai, God, made them. And then, almost as an afterthought,
He made everyone else.

—The Traveler

IT TOOK A minute for Jade’s brain to switch from being a murder suspect to Madeline’s revelation. “What? Adopt a baby boy?” She looked at Neville, who stood by his wife, a wide smile on his weather-beaten face. “How can you be so certain?”

Madeline held up the newspaper. Jade recognized it as a copy of the
Leader of British East Africa
by its unmistakable header showing herds of zebra. Maddy turned the page and pointed to a particular notice in the classifieds. “Here,” she said. “Read this.”

Jade read aloud. “Would someone please adopt a four-month-old baby boy of Dutch origin? Reply voucher 975, the
Leader
.”

“And that’s it?” asked Sam. “You just claim the child and it’s yours?” His tone was skeptical.

“Why not?” asked Maddy. She seemed genuinely confused by Sam’s question.

Jade, more familiar with life under rustic conditions back home in New Mexico, hastened to explain to Sam. “It might be different in your Indiana, Sam, but this is still the frontier to some extent. The governing bodies have little time or resources to devote to orphans. Anyone willing to take one is welcome to the child.”

Sam scratched his head. “Back home the orphanages all tend to be run by some religious order, like as not. And if you don’t have any here—”

Madeline hastened to reassure Sam that the citizens of Nairobi did care about children. “Lady Northey established a splendid home for the children left without care because of the war, but now it is primarily a place for settlers to board their children while they attend school. But this little boy in the paper needs someone. It’s heaven-sent, don’t you see?”

Jade looked at Maddy’s beaming face and smiled. “That’s wonderful, Maddy, Neville. You’ll be marvelous parents.” Jade handed the paper to Neville. “Makes one wonder what happened.”

“I suspect his parents both succumbed to some illness,” said Neville. “We’re heading to the
Leader
office right now to answer the ad.”

“If the authorities want any references, be sure to have them apply to the Dunburys. That should secure you,” suggested Sam.

“Good idea,” said Jade, hoping that Beverly would answer this query at least. “You also have a letter from Beverly with you to prove your friendship.”
Only don’t tell them you know us.

Maddy’s smile grew, and her eyes sparkled. “Only just think, Neville, how neatly everything has come together. If we hadn’t had to come in this very morning, we might never have seen this advertisement in time, and now Jade has delivered our reference to us.”

Yes,
thought Jade,
if Martin Stokes hadn’t been murdered and we hadn’t been suspects, we might have missed this issue.
She kept such macabre thoughts to herself. “Well, then you two had better get a move on.”

“Meet us at the New Stanley Hotel at one and we’ll have a celebration lunch together,” said Maddy. Then she and Neville hurried out the door.

Jade and Sam stepped out of police headquarters and crossed the street. Jade didn’t have any particular destination in mind and doubted that Sam did either. She simply wanted to distance herself from Inspector Finch. One glance at her blue-black fingertips told her that would not be easy. She pulled out her handkerchief and wiped them again.

They walked to bustling Sixth Avenue with its Theatre Royale, post office, and the
Standard
’s office with its stationery store. Nairobi had changed so much since the war. The population had increased to an unheard-of three thousand Europeans and another eight thousand Indians. The British tended to live in the fringes in Parklands and Muthaiga districts, leaving the inner city by Swamp Road to the Indian population, which first came to build the railroad. Consequently, the colonists were more concerned with ensuring they had better streetlights and traffic signs so that they could drive unimpeded from work to their clubs for their evening scotch-and-soda sundowners, rather than with the overall health of the city. If cases of plague were a problem in the Indian slum, then the general consensus was to
keep
the Indians in the slum so the plague didn’t spread. The colonists cared even less about the few native slums on the southern fringes.

Jade saw the bustling city as a veneer of civilization laid over the old Africa. At times the veneer was so convincing that the citizens forgot that the old Africa still struggled to survive. She wondered what some of the pioneers, like Lord Colridge or Harry Hascombe, thought of Nairobi now. Hascombe with his charming smile and less than scrupulous nature now had to take his safari customers farther afield to find game.

“I should see if the new rolls of film I ordered have arrived,” Jade said.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “That wouldn’t happen to be at Stokes and Berryhill, now would it?” he asked. Jade nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

Stokes and Berryhill Ltd., purveyors of farm equipment, kitchen needs, and chemical supplies, occupied a two-story stone building on Sixth Avenue, across the avenue and three shops down from the New Stanley Hotel. The first floor looked to Jade like a general store gone berserker, carrying everything farmers could want, as long as they didn’t desire fine silk dresses and the latest fripperies. The second floor was home to Winston and Pauline Berryhill and their son, Harley, aged sixteen. The store’s truck, a battered black Ford with the words STOKES AND BERRYHILL LTD. painted in red on the sides, was parked in front. Jade wondered who would drive out to all the farms and settlements now that Stokes was dead.

Once inside, Sam and Jade wended past racks of canned goods, bolts of fabric, and cans of boot black. To their left, rakes, hoes, and pitchforks hung against the wall next to bins of nails and racks of saws and hammers. On the right were shelves of men’s shirts and work trousers. Behind the shirts, glass-fronted cases displayed ladies’ shirtwaists and handkerchiefs, combs, mirrors, and shelves of toiletries. Jade spied boxes of Eucryl tooth powder, Yardley’s hair tonic, and Palm Olive soap. Against the far wall were home remedies and assorted chemicals, everything needed to cure croup, kill rats, treat livestock, or bolster one’s overall vigor. The scents of leather harnesses and sacks of meal collided midway with a recent test spritzing of lavender toilet water.

Jade’s and Sam’s boots echoed hollowly on the plank floors over the hum of subdued conversation. Pauline Berryhill, a sturdy-looking woman of five foot, five inches, was quietly proclaiming the virtues of Aertex cellular underwear to a female customer, while her husband, Winston, pointed out the finer qualities of the newest pruning shears to a male shopper. Jade kept an ear to the conversations while she and Sam stood waiting their turn.

“I’m very sorry to hear about Mr. Stokes,” said the woman customer to Mrs. Berryhill. “Such a shock! You must be devastated.”

Mrs. Berryhill nodded once. “Yes, we’re saddened beyond words.” She tallied up the purchase and took her customer’s money. “Do come again whenever you need anything.”

“Which one do you want?” Jade whispered to Sam.

“I’ll take Mr. Berryhill, if you don’t mind.”

“What? You aren’t going to try to work your daredevil charm on the missus?”

Sam nodded discreetly at the wife. “I’m not sure she likes me.”

Before Jade could ask for clarification, Mrs. Berryhill finished reshelving the unsold undergarments, and spying Jade, she smiled and nodded. “Miss del Cameron, how nice to see you. How may I be of assistance? Oh, and Mr. Featherstone,” she added when she saw Sam. “How nice to see you again, too.” Her tone, while not hostile, didn’t sound warm.

“Hello, Mrs. Berryhill,” replied Jade. “I ordered a shipment of roll film a month ago. I’ve come to see if it has arrived yet.”

“Yes, I believe it came in earlier this week. If you have a moment, I’ll check and see.”

Mrs. Berryhill pulled a ledger from the shelf and leafed through the pages. In the meantime, Sam strolled closer to Mr. Berryhill and examined one of the pith solar topees for sale next to a rack of suspenders. Jade had no doubt that Sam intended to pry as much information out of Mr. Berryhill as possible and left him to it.

“Yes, it’s right here. Roll film for your Kodak and a box of sheets for a Graflex.” She picked up a medium-sized wooden box from the bottom shelf and set it on the counter. Then her fingers ran across the adding machine buttons, pausing only to pull the tally lever. Mrs. Berryhill jotted down the numbers on a receipt book and handed the top copy to Jade, keeping the carbon for herself. “The total is forty-seven rupees,” she said.

“Did the price go up again?” asked Jade. “That’s much higher than what Mr. Berryhill quoted to me.”

“No, but it’s the import duties, you see.
They
have increased,” explained Mrs. Berryhill.