Love and Death Among the Cheetahs Read online

  “So were you attending this party?” The question was asked directly to me.

  “Yes. Lady Idina was kind enough to invite us. We met her at the polo match yesterday morning.”

  “You go in for parties like this, do you?” He was smirking at me now. “I’m not a complete ignoramus, you know. I’ve heard what goes on here.”

  “I grew up in a Scottish castle, Inspector. I can assure you there were no parties of any sort. It was kind of Lady Idina to invite complete strangers and a novelty to be part of the smart set for once.” I didn’t want him to get the impression that we had actually taken part and enjoyed it, but I couldn’t think of how to say this without being rude to our hostess.

  “Scottish castle, eh? You don’t sound Scottish.”

  “Neither did my great-grandmother but she loved to be in Scotland and built herself a castle there.”

  “Built herself a castle?”

  “Yes. Balmoral.”

  “Your great-grandmother was?”

  “Queen Victoria,” I said. I was so proud of myself that I had to stifle a grin.

  “Oh, I see. You’re part of the Prince of Wales’s party. Why didn’t you say so?” He had gone quite pink. “Well, of course you can go whenever you wish, Your Highness.”

  “In that case we will be happy to take Mr. Van Horn,” Darcy said. “Lady Idina, thank you for your hospitality. It was most enlightening.” He took her hand.

  “I hope we shall see more of you before you go home,” she said, her expression making quite clear the double meaning in this.

  She hugged me and we kissed cheeks, a few inches apart, the way my mother always did. “We’d better go too, Inspector,” Freddie said. “Or they won’t be able to get past Lord Cheriton’s car.”

  “Oh, all right,” Inspector Windrush said. “So you’ll please give your statements to my sergeant and I’ll be back. Nobody is to go anywhere until I return. Is that clear?”

  “Oh— But— Inspector—” came the entreaties after him, but he didn’t stop. We followed him out and got into our motorcar. I let Mr. Van Horn take the front seat beside Darcy. As Darcy helped me into the backseat he whispered to me, “I’ve never seen you pull rank before. Name-dropping indeed.”

  “Only when absolutely necessary,” I replied. “I was afraid he wouldn’t let us go. It worked, didn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. Well done.”

  He gave me a little kiss, then climbed into his own seat and we drove off, behind the inspector and Freddie.

  Chapter 27

  AUGUST 12

  BACK AT DIDDY’S HOUSE

  Thank goodness. So glad to escape. The party was bad enough, but a party with perhaps a murderer among them?

  The sun was now high in the sky and burned down on us as we drove along the open stretch of road. I remembered Diddy’s dire warnings about sunstroke and not wearing a hat. We drove without incident until we had to stop behind the police car. The officers had already got out and Inspector Windrush was talking with the doctor.

  “Oh no. Not another holdup!” Mr. Van Horn growled. “Why do they not move their motorcar off the road? They are imbeciles.”

  “That’s because the murdered man’s motorcar is blocking the road on the other side of the rocks.” Darcy got out of our motor and hurried to catch up with Inspector Windrush and Freddie.

  “Do you think it might be possible to have Lord Cheriton’s motor moved off the road so that we can get past?” Darcy asked.

  “We’ll need to dust it for fingerprints and take photographs first,” Inspector Windrush said shortly.

  “Then maybe you will need my fingerprints for identification,” Darcy said, “because I got into the car.”

  “Why did you do that?” Windrush was eyeing him suspiciously.

  “The motor was running. It must have been running since midnight. I was going to move the vehicle out of the way but then I realized that the police would need to examine it. So I turned the motor off. There was no point in leaving it on.”

  “I see.” Windrush gave a grudging nod. “You were the first person at the scene of the crime, then. What else did you touch?”

  “I helped turn the body over,” Darcy said.

  “And why did you do that?”

  “The doctor and I did it. To verify who it was, and to see what might have killed him,” Darcy said. He was still being remarkably calm.

  Windrush’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem to be overly fazed by finding a dead body. What sort of job do you do in England? Or are you one of these aristocrats who lounge about and play polo?”

  “I certainly cannot afford to lounge around. I would gladly have taken a job but in case you don’t know there is still a depression going on at home. I take on the odd commission around the world when I am offered one.”

  “What sort of commission?”

  “Anything that pays me,” Darcy said, “but as it happens I have been offered a proper full-time government job when I return from my honeymoon.”

  This last word obviously sank in. The inspector looked back at me with a more kindly expression. “I’m sorry, yes. I forgot you’re on your honeymoon and you young people have had a nasty shock. Don’t worry. We’ll get the road cleared in a jiffy. I’ll have my men go over the motorcar while I take a look at the body.”

  He was about to follow the doctor into the bushes when I couldn’t resist saying, “There was one thing you might want to notice, Inspector.”

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  I wasn’t about to correct him at this moment. I pointed to the bush. “Doesn’t this look like a scrap of hair from a lion? Or at least from some animal?”

  He nodded. “It might well be. But if, as has been suggested, Lord Cheriton was murdered then it doesn’t really matter what sort of animal had a go at his body afterward. And the fur could have been there for ages.”

  “That is true,” Dr. Singh said. “Now if you will come this way.”

  They led; Darcy followed. I stayed back this time. I’d had enough of partially eaten bodies for one morning. I heard the inspector’s intake of breath. “The poor bugger has been eaten all right,” he said. “So what makes you so sure that—”

  Then he cleared his throat. “Oh, I see. Yes. That’s definitely a knife wound. We won’t need an autopsy for that. Would have gone straight into the heart. Any sign of the weapon? Right. You men search the area for a possible weapon, and for any other clues.”

  It probably took another half hour before the vehicles were able to be moved and maneuvered so that the road was cleared. It was like one of those annoying little puzzles where you slide the pieces across to make a picture. The body was transported to the back of the doctor’s car, ready to be taken to the morgue. The Eggertons’ Kikuyu workers were delivered home in the police car and we were free to go.

  I went up to Freddie. “What about Bwana’s widow and children? Surely if they are not given the news soon it will get to them one way or another, and that’s not right. You should probably be the one to break the news, shouldn’t you? Rather you than the inspector.” I lowered my voice as I glanced across at the policeman.

  “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “But I also feel I should be back at Idina’s in case of more questioning. It is my district, after all. I don’t want my constituents bullied or upset by the Nairobi police. Could I ask you and Darcy to break the news?”

  “But what if one of them was in some way involved?” I said. “Wouldn’t it be important if someone in authority saw their reactions?”

  I could see that Freddie was really torn. He probably hadn’t anticipated handling anything like this when he signed on as a government official. He probably pictured his days would be spent making sure his district ran peacefully and rules were obeyed. He chewed on his lip in an endearingly boyish way then looked at Darcy. “You know
about these things, don’t you? I imagine you can interpret reactions to the news better than I. I’ll come to join you as soon as I am free, but in the meantime . . .”

  “That’s all right, old chap,” Darcy said. “Leave it to us.”

  We climbed back into the motorcar. Mr. Van Horn sat beside Darcy staring ahead of him in angry silence. I wondered if Darcy was going to take advantage of having a suspect in a jewel theft actually in the car with us. When he said nothing I asked, “So, Mr. Van Horn, what kind of business are you in back in South Africa?”

  “I am a broker, young lady. I put together deals.”

  “What kind of deals?”

  “For people who want to invest in my country,” he said. “We have many resources, many chances to invest advantageously. Gold, for example.”

  “Or diamonds,” I couldn’t resist saying.

  His expression didn’t change. “Yes, diamond mines are a great investment. If you are interested I can introduce you . . .”

  “I’m afraid we are not in the position to invest in anything,” Darcy said, rather shortly, I thought. “We are newlyweds. Poor as church mice.”

  “I see.”

  “Have you been on many safaris?” I went on, determined to keep him talking.

  “Not many. I live in the city of Johannesburg. But I have been to Kruger Park a few times as a young man.”

  “What sort of animals do they have in Kruger Park?” Darcy asked.

  “Everything I shall see here, I am sure. Lions, zebras, giraffes . . .” He spread his hands in a shrug. “When this Mr. Prendergast offered to take me, I thought it would be a pleasant way to fill in a day before I went back to Nairobi and caught the train home. Now I am sure I have wasted my time and the safari will not take place.”

  We went over a particularly rutted strip of road and had to be silent rather than risk biting our tongues. Then, out of the blue, Van Horn turned to Darcy. “Were you acquainted with this Lord Cheriton?”

  “We only met him once,” Darcy said. “We were invited to dinner at his house.”

  “I understand he was a powerful man in this community. A man of influence? With political ambitions, so I’m told.”

  “I really don’t know. We are visitors here, like yourself,” Darcy said.

  “So you have heard no rumor about who might have killed him?”

  “No.” Darcy shot him a glance. “Pretty much everyone who knew him was at that party.”

  “Except his own family,” Van Horn said. “His children have come out from England for the first time—is that not correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “The first time he has seen them in many years?”

  “I believe so.”

  “So he wouldn’t immediately recognize them.”

  We drove on in silence. What had Mr. Van Horn been hinting at? That his children were not actually his offspring at all, but sent out to kill him? Surely no one could believe such a wild theory. After all, Rowena was called Hartley when she was at school with me. And besides, from the tracks on the road it was clear Bwana’s vehicle was the last one to come down from the north of the valley, unless the family possessed an identical vehicle. I’d have to check on that.

  * * *

  WE MADE IT back to Diddy’s estate without incident. Diddy came running out to meet us as she heard the motorcar. “Oh, my poor dears. What an awful shock for you. Idina telephoned me with all the news. He was murdered, you say? Are the police there now? Well, I expect they’ll soon track down who did it. It will be some estate worker who has been sacked and now has gone rogue.” She paused, getting her breath. “Because it can’t be one of us, can it?”

  When we didn’t answer immediately she went on. “How was he killed?”

  “Stabbed through the heart with a knife,” Darcy said. “A very big knife.”

  “Well then.” She looked relieved. “That wouldn’t be one of us. If any white person had wanted to kill him they would have shot him, not risked a close confrontation like that. He was awfully strong, you know.”

  This, of course, was true. I could picture Tusker stabbing him, but not a woman. A big man like Bwana would have grabbed a wrist and wrested away the knife.

  “Do come and have some food.” Diddy took my arm. “You poor dears must be starving.”

  “The one thing we have had is plenty to eat,” I replied, smiling. “We had a good breakfast at the Eggertons’ and then another at Idina’s. But I wouldn’t say no to another cup of coffee. Oh, and have you met Mr. Van Horn? Cyril was supposed to take him on safari.”

  “There would be no point now,” Van Horn said tersely. He turned to us. “Wilhelm Van Horn. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. O’Mara,” Darcy replied.

  “I’m sorry you have been inconvenienced like this, Mr. Van Horn. Come inside and chat with Cyril. Why don’t you stay the night and enjoy a proper safari tomorrow?”

  “Most kind.” Van Horn was being incredibly civil to her, after his earlier belligerence.

  Diddy’s servants whisked our belongings into our bedroom ahead of us. I followed them, anxious to change my clothes and have a wash and brush-up before I faced Angel and the twins. I wished we had never volunteered to do so. . . . Well, we hadn’t exactly volunteered. We had been commandeered into the task. Darcy came into the room behind me and shut the door.

  “What a business,” he said. “And here I was thinking it would be a wonderful escape for us. Exotic landscape, animals, fresh air . . .”

  “The landscape was certainly exotic enough last night,” I said. “I don’t think I will ever get those images out of my mind. What awful people. They keep marrying each other and then leaping into bed with each other; I’m not surprised they kill each other as well.”

  Darcy looked at me with interest. “You really think it was one of them?”

  I shrugged. “From what we’ve heard there were plenty of people with a good motive, and the means. . . .”

  “The means?”

  “Didn’t you notice? There were two motorcars exactly like Bwana’s? We thought it was his tire tracks on the road, but one of them could have followed him. And what perfect alibis—they were all in bed with somebody.”

  Darcy shook his head. “I hope we find out that it’s a Kikuyu freedom fighter. At least that would make it simpler.”

  “You’d rather a native was hanged than a white man? That’s a terrible sentiment.”

  “They’d never catch him. He’d hide out in the Aberdare forest and be fed by local sympathizers. There is an underground movement that is gaining traction, you know, for more power for the natives and a say in government.”

  “Just a minute,” I said, as things that had been said formed themselves in my consciousness. “Mr. Van Horn said something about Bwana having political aspirations? Is that right? And he could have been vehemently against natives having any say in government, and one of them decided to finish him off before he was elected?”

  “Actually he already had been elected to represent this district,” Darcy said, “and you are not wrong in your suppositions.”

  I looked up at Darcy, frowning. “Wait.” I held up my hand. “When you were talking to Freddie he said, ‘You don’t think this can have anything to do with—?’ and you cut him off. What do you know that I don’t? What other?”

  Darcy looked uncomfortable. “Nothing that concerns you.”

  “Nothing that concerns me? But something that might concern Bwana’s death? Something to do with political power?” I took a deep breath. “I am your wife now, Darcy. And I’m not an idiot. Whether I like it or not I seem to be involved in this murder so I’d like the truth please.”

  “You are too damned astute sometimes,” he said. “You’re right. You are my wife now. And you’re just as good at this spy business as I am. If I keep
things from you at times it’s because it’s safer for you not to know. But this can go no further.” He went across to the window and checked that it was shut. “You heard Bwana expound his views at the dinner table the other night. He’s a die-hard Fascist. A big pal of Mosley. White people rule and keep the natives in their place.”

  I nodded. “But I’d imagine that applies to most people here.”

  “Probably. But he is also an ardent admirer of Hitler. He was in Berlin a couple of months ago and our man there tells a tale that is quite chilling. Bwana’s job is to rise through colony politics until he can have enough control so that at the right moment the colony can declare its allegiance to Germany.”

  “Allegiance to Germany?” I uttered the words too loudly then realized and put my hand to my mouth. “But that would never happen.”

  “Wouldn’t it? You’ve seen the British expatriates who live here. Decadent. Fueled by drugs and alcohol—which people like Bwana have encouraged, by the way. They’ve made themselves highly unpopular with the natives, and they have become apathetic. The native troops would follow anyone who promised them independence after a war.”

  “A war, here?”

  Darcy put a hand on my shoulder. “My dear, I think we have to accept that Herr Hitler is arming his country at an alarming rate. Hitler is already helping stir up trouble in Spain, and Mosley is trying to get support in England. War will come and sooner rather than later. And it will spread to the colonies, I fear.”

  “Crikey.” I realized I sounded like Jocelyn and his innocent, boyish face came into my head. If another war came then he and all like him would be sent off to fight and die.

  “We’ve just had the war to end all wars,” I said and heard my voice crack with emotion.

  “That’s what we all hoped. But the Germans are itching for revenge, for a chance to hold their heads up high again. And I think Hitler wants more than that. He wants to rule the world.”