The Leopard's Prey (43 page)

“But surely he must have known you’d turn the knife in to the police and they’d find him eventually,” said Avery.

“Not necessarily,” added Sam. “He couldn’t know that they had his fingerprints on file. All he counted on was that it was a common knife. He’s a sick man, suffering from liver failure induced by poison. He apparently has too free a hand with arsenide dips. I think it’s affected his mind.”

“So did Harding accuse you, Sam, of hitting Stokes when he needed a scapegoat?” asked Beverly.

“No, that was Anderson,” said Sam. “Cutter saw me argue with Stokes about my gasoline bill. He told Anderson, who saw it as a way to discredit me in Jade’s eyes.”

“Well, what threw everyone off,” said Avery, “was the fact that Stokes was—how do they say it?—cooking the books. I rather suspected Mr. Berryhill of doing him in.”

“It wasn’t Stokes that was skimming money from the store,” said Jade.

Beverly choked on a swallow of lemonade. “Will you please stop doing that? You have this terribly dreadful habit of spilling important news just when I’m drinking.”

“Sorry, Bev,” said Jade. “I didn’t do it on purpose. Not this time. You see, when I last visited the store, Mr. Berryhill was alone, trying to cope with the accounts. He said his wife was away and
she
always handled the books. Then he said that Stokes had made such a mess of the bills that problems were still showing up. If the man had any sense of accounting, he’d know that wasn’t possible. Someone else must have been doing it.”

“Then it was
Mrs.
Berryhill who was stealing?”

Jade nodded. “I think Mrs. Berryhill always planned to leave her husband. She helped Mrs. Stokes run off and develop a new identity for herself, dyeing her hair, adopting her own baby. She was very distraught when she found out that Mrs. Stokes was no longer at that old farmhouse by Longonot, especially when Mr. Chalmers came and bought all those cleaning supplies and curtains and such. And Mr. Berryhill knew nothing about any baby being left with them. Mrs. Berryhill made all that up to help Alice change her identity.”

“Mrs. Stokes is with Chalmers now?” asked Sam.

“Yes,” said Jade. “Married yesterday. He’s apparently always loved her. So, I suspect, did Mrs. Berryhill.”

“Mrs. Berryhill always loved Mr. Chalmers?” asked Avery.

Jade shook her head. “She always loved Alice Stokes.”

Beverly gasped. “What makes you say that?”

“I saw golden yellow hair sticking out of Mrs. Berryhill’s locket. Her husband and son are brunets, so I think it was Mrs. Stokes’ hair. Growing up back home in New Mexico, I knew two women from Boston who moved to Taos. They were—how do I say this delicately?—
very
close. People always whispered about them. Anyway, I think Pauline felt that way about Alice and maybe planned to run off with her.”

“Only Alice didn’t reciprocate,” said Sam.

“No,” said Jade. “She just needed someone to care for her as she always has. Once her husband was gone for good, she was more than willing to marry Mr. Chalmers. Maybe Mrs. Berryhill will stay with her own husband now.”

Avery reached over to an end table and picked up the morning paper. “I think she’s already left him. I placed an order for some grain for the horses yesterday, and a new man delivered it this morning in an old, beat-up truck instead of the usual Ford.” Avery opened the paper, found an ad, and read aloud: “ ‘Woman with small capital wishes to meet like-minded woman with intent of starting a farm in the upland territory. Apply box 87, Nakuru.’ I would wager that the writer of this ad was none other than our book-cooking friend.”

“Oh, dear,” said Beverly. “I suppose Finch will have to go after
her
now.”

Jade shrugged. “Not unless Mr. Berryhill presses charges, and if he does, Finch had better not drag me into it.” Her keen hearing picked up the sound of a puttering motor. “I think Maddy and Neville are coming,” she said as she stood for a better view of the road. Sure enough, their old box-bodied car turned past the gate and chugged up the long lane. Jade ran down the steps to greet them. She could see by their broad smiles that they had good news even before she saw the toddler seated between them.

“Maddy, Neville, congratulations!” Jade said as she helped Maddy out of the car and hugged her. Behind her, she heard Sam approach.

“Allow me to join in on that,” he said. “Congratulations.” He pumped Neville’s hand.

Madeline reached into the car and lifted up the child, a towheaded boy who stared at them with huge blue eyes. He stuck a thumb in his mouth and instinctively laid his head on Maddy’s shoulder as the strange grown-ups clustered around him.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” asked Madeline. She kissed the boy on the forehead. “He’s fifteen months old and his name is Cyril Masters, but of course, we’re adopting him so it will soon be Cyril Thompson.”

“His family left him at Lady Northey’s Children’s Home last year while they went up north to start their farm,” explained Neville. “Soldier settlers, you know. Planned on fetching the little tyke once they had their home built. Seems he drew a bad plot of swampy land, though. Both of them caught yellow fever and passed on two months ago. After applying for relations back in England, the home found that they had no other family.”

“So now he’s ours,” finished Madeline.

Avery had stayed on the veranda to help Beverly to her feet. She stood by the steps, waiting for them. “Maddy, bring the baby here, please. Avery won’t let me go down the stairs.”

Maddy hurried up with her child. Neville followed and was heartily congratulated by Avery. Jade and Sam stayed below, watching, happy for their friends’ joy.

“They’ll be wonderful parents,” said Sam. “That’s one lucky little guy.”

Jade nodded. “Just like the Dunburys’ baby. Both couldn’t ask for better parents or a better place to grow up.”

They walked up to join the others. Cyril snuggled into Maddy’s lap and dozed.

“Is Inspector Finch going to charge you with assault, Sam?” asked Neville as he stroked his son’s head.

“Not unless he wants Jade to call on the governor and tell how he used her to do his investigation.” Sam massaged his right hand. “I still owe him for nearly getting my plane wrecked.” He leaned against a post and folded his arms across his chest.

“And now all the animals are off to their new homes,” said Madeline. “I’m glad Percy is gone. I’d worry about Cyril getting too close, but I must admit, I’m going to miss the old fellow. Still, his saving you, Jade, will make a splendid chapter to my next book.”

Jade groaned. “I should think motherhood would take all your attention, Maddy.”

“Oh, I’ll make the time,” Madeline said. “The money will be even more important now.”

“You didn’t still need Percy for your movie, did you, Sam?” asked Beverly.

He shook his head. “That part is finished, and I just shot some footage of the coffee pulping and drying to round out the feel of farm life.” He straightened and relaxed his arms. “You know, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to include little Cyril in the movie. Having you bring him home to the farm is a great ending. You know: peace, serenity, life moving on.”

Maddy shifted and took her husband’s hand as they gazed into each other’s eyes, communicating silently as married couples do after years together. After a nearly imperceptible movement of Neville’s lips, Maddy agreed. “Certainly, Sam,” she said. “And it would help us preserve a very special moment in our lives.”

“Is that how your film will close then, Sam?” asked Avery. “With the little tyke toddling among the coffee trees?”

“Not exactly,” Sam replied. “I think I’d like to film him on the lawn with the farm in the background. Then I want to pan out, show Africa beyond. After that”—he paused and looked at Jade—“with some help, I want to end with an aerial sweep of the farm and Africa.” He cocked his head and studied Jade for a moment. “What do you say, Jade? Late-afternoon light will be best. Long, interesting shadows. Less haze. Shall we try it today?”

She nodded. “Love to. If it’s all right with Maddy and Neville.”

“We’ll meet you in a little while,” said Neville.

Jade and Sam waved goodbye and headed for their respective motorcycles. Biscuit got up to follow, but Jade told him to stay. “I’ll be back this evening and bring you a nice chicken,” she said. When she looked up, she saw Sam and Avery exchange a meaningful glance. Before she could ask Sam what that was about, he’d started his engine.

THEY BUZZED LOW over the Thompsons’ farm, Sam at the stick and Jade up front with the camera. She balanced it over the right side and cranked film while Sam executed a gentle spiral, rising higher and higher with each turn. Then he leveled out and headed southwest, allowing Jade to capture the low sun and the distant herds. Jade did her best to film what she hoped was the essence of Sam’s vision, then stopped cranking and turned her head to the side to await his next hand signal. He made a short chopping motion, and she set the camera down carefully on her lap. It had been their prearranged signal that filming was complete.

Sam had made a wooden box to house his precious Akeley camera. Jade reached for it from its place on the floorboard. She slid back the catch and opened it, expecting to find it empty. It wasn’t. Inside was another small box, nested in a corner. On the top was penned,
Open this!
Jade did.

For a second, everything evaporated around her except the glittering, cerulean blue sapphire ring in front of her. The square-cut stone, a full carat in size, was set in a white-gold ring crafted in the geometric lines of the new art deco style. Two larger claw mounts held the stone at the top and base with smaller ones on each corner. The breeze shifted and brushed Jade’s cheeks, bringing her back to reality. She noted the soft whoosh of the wind and the purr of the Jenny’s motor. Then she saw the note tucked inside the box lid.

I can’t promise you the world, but I can promise you the sky. Marry me.

Jade looked at the stunning sapphire once more and recalled her fears when Sam had been raving sick. Once again, the
laibon
’s words came back to her.

When this killer comes for you again, Simba Jike, you must seek help from your mate.

She had heard these words when Harding opened fire on her, and called to Sam, just as she’d gone to Percy when the leopard attacked. Which yellow-eyed killer had the
laibon
meant? And did it really matter?

The stone matched the sky around her as if a chunk had been crystallized and preserved just for her. She knew that Sam was waiting behind her, silently manning the controls, anxious to know what her answer would be.

She wondered herself.

AUTHOR’S NOTES

THERE’S A TENDENCY to become politically correct in books, but Jade’s attitude toward the African natives is in perfect keeping with historic sensibilities. As proof, I refer you to letters from the assorted clergy that appear in the
Leader of British East Africa
and the
East African Standard
during those years. People in London even formed antislavery societies, protesting the forced labor of the native tribes. There is also an excellent book,
Kenya
, written by Norman Leys, MB, DPH, a health officer in Mombassa. Published in 1925, it exposes the travesty that enforced labor laws wreaked on Kikuyu life and culture.

For a beautiful look at the Maasai tribe, see
Maasai
(1980) by Tepilit Ole Saitoti, photographs by Carol Beckwith. The author is a Maasai, so the text is written with excellent insight into the culture. Maasai proverbs and beliefs are explored in
The Masai, Their Language and Folklore
(1905) by Alfred C. Hollis.

One of the most famous men to capture wild animals, Frank Buck, has written several books describing his experiences, including
Bring ’Em Back Alive!
Chapter four of Harold J. Shepstone’s 1931 book,
Wild Beasts
To-Day,gives an excellent description of the capture and shipping of wild animals.

Mapping 1920 Nairobi required its own detective work. No one seemed to include any maps in the handbooks and guides. The closest I came was a proposed redevelopment of the downtown area in the September 4, 1920, issue of the
Leader of British East Africa
. As Mr. Jim McGivney of Kenya Books, Brighton, UK, surmised, “The only important road would be the one that led from the station to the Norfolk Hotel bar!” But
The Traveller’s Guide to Kenya and Uganda, 1936
(published by the Kenya and Uganda Railways and Harbours) does include a Nairobi map. Combining this with local newspaper ads from 1919 to 1920, I was able to piece together an idea of the town in 1920.

Old Nairobi and the New Stanley Hotel
(1974) by Jan Hemsing has many interesting photographs and notes on early Nairobi, but the best view of all came from Nairobi’s own newspapers: the
Leader of British East Africa
and the
East African Standard
. These are available on microfilm, and through their personal columns, ads, and letters to the editor, I gained a window into life in 1920 Nairobi. The plot of this book was inspired by an actual missing-person notice and a pitiful plea for someone to adopt an orphaned baby boy. These microfilms are an excellent example of why newspapers must be archived in their
entirety
, instead of saving an electronic cache of the headline stories. Otherwise, how will future generations be able to see into
our
thoughts and daily lives?