The Crocodile's Last Embrace (14 page)

By then the croc’s head jerk had snapped the rope, and the animal dove back into the water, Harry’s last bullet blazing ineffectually at the armored back.

In a moment, the water was still, as though the brute had never been there.

Harry’s mouth hung open as he stared at the winch, now attached by one nail. “He’s gotten bigger.”

“Did we get him?” asked Miller.

Harry’s face darkened and he wheeled around with a quickness that belied his big frame. “Damnation!” he roared as he stormed over to Miller. He grabbed him by the shirt collar and shook him like a big dog shaking a rat. “Get him? I
could
have had him. What the hell were you doing?”

“You weren’t shooting,” Miller squeaked in between shakes.

“I was about to. You don’t just shoot at a croc and expect it to fall down dead.”

“Harry, let him go,” said Jade. She noticed that Miller’s face was turning purple.

Harry dropped him, and the constable gasped. “I could have you arrested for that, you know.”

While taking a deep breath, Harry’s chest expanded until he resembled the Cape buffalo for which he was nicknamed. Miller apparently saw the danger, for he quickly added, “But I won’t.”

Harry threw a menacing look at the reporter, who was feverishly scratching down every movement and word in his notepad. “And if you print a word about what just happened between the constable and me, I’ll—”

The reporter held up his hands in a “don’t shoot me” pose. “I promise. You have my word.”

“That and a couple rupees wouldn’t buy a shot of gin,” grumbled Harry.

“You made a foolish mistake there, Constable,” said Percival. “Besides ruining our chances at a good shot, you’ve possibly driven the animal away from here. Now we’ll have to watch for it and see where it turns up next. And I don’t have the manpower to patrol every foot of this river.”

“Do you have any idea where that crocodile will go next?” asked Jade.

Percival shrugged. “It could be anywhere. He could stay here, though I doubt it. He could go back downriver. That’s more likely, since it will get shallower up here as the dry season progresses.”

“Any chance he’ll move to the Kikuyu village?”

“It’s a possibility. I’ll pay them a visit and warn them.” The game warden considered Jade for a moment. “You were planning to take some young ladies out for a safari, weren’t you?”

Jade nodded. “We’ll be camping above the falls, though.” She rubbed her upper arms, trying to ease out the burning pain from her recent exertion. “I’ll make certain that they don’t come down below.”

“You’ll be safe enough up there,” Percival said. “But stay up top. I can’t imagine any croc waiting in those rocks and pools under the falls, but one never knows with animals, especially hungry ones.”

“How big was that animal?” asked the reporter. “Fourteen feet, did you say?”

“He’s sixteen if he’s an inch,” said Harry. He moved closer to Jade and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Are you all right, Jade? If I’d known that croc was that big, I’d never have put you at the winch.” He smiled. “You’re a brave woman. You didn’t run. But you should have gotten into the truck.” His hand grazed her cheek and hair.

Jade moved away from his touch. “I’m fine, Harry.” She turned to Constable Singh and changed the subject. “Did you find anything of interest in or around the vehicle?”

Singh shook his white-turbaned head. “Nothing unusual, memsahib. We shall see if there are any interesting fingerprints when I drive it back to Nairobi. I cannot tell if there was blood on the ground or not. There was a dark spot of dirt there.” He pointed to a shallow hole. “I dug it up and put it in a jar. Perhaps we shall see blood under the microscope.”

“I’d think there should be a lot of blood,” said the reporter.

“Not necessarily,” said Percival. “A crocodile is an ambush predator. It lunges forward and pulls the prey into the water, drowning it.”

“And then what happens?” asked the reporter, scribbling as fast as he could.

“If he’s hungry enough and he can swallow his prey, he’ll bolt it down then, but most often he stores his meal in some underwater lair,” said Harry. “Tucks it under a root or something until it softens up enough that he can pull off chunks of meat.”

“How long does that take?” asked the reporter. His face had paled.

Harry shrugged. “A few days maybe, a week perhaps.”

From the river came the sound of rising gas bubbles. They burbled and popped in a frenetic series that ended only when a corpse suddenly bobbed to the surface. Chalky white flesh protruded from torn khaki, and a bloated hand flopped in a mock wave, beckoning them. The body rolled and settled on the surface, one glazed eye staring from the ghoulish face, the swollen lips pulled back in an expression of horror.

They stared at the body in stunned disbelief, mouths agape, eyes wide.

“Unless,” Jade said, “a lot of thrashing makes the dinner pop back up.”

The reporter was the first to move, hurrying away to gag. “Ulp!”

“Gentlemen,” Jade added as she looked at each of them, “I think we found our victim.”

—The Traveler

“IRONIC NAME,” murmured Inspector Finch later that day. He and Jade were standing outside police headquarters, watching as Constable Singh dusted and photographed fingerprints on the victim’s car. The victim, Bradley Waters, lay inside on a table in a back room. He’d been identified by some soggy, folded papers in his pocketbook.

When Jade didn’t reply, Finch explained, “Waters. I mean to say that it’s rather ironic that he died in the water, drowning in a crocodile’s death roll.”

Jade only nodded. While she didn’t feel as edgy today as she had in previous days, her skin still twitched and crept along her arms and legs. Exhaustion from lack of sleep and this morning’s exertion at the winch had also taken its toll. She’d returned to Nairobi with Miller to give her statement, leaving Singh to bring back the victim and his vehicle. Blaney Percival, who’d driven Jade to the river, had gone on to Jelani’s village, and Harry—well, frankly Jade had no idea what Harry did afterwards; nor did she care to know. His caress back at the river said that his interest in her hadn’t waned. It was as unwelcome as it was unreciprocated.

“We do not know for a fact that he drowned, Inspector,” said Dr. Dymant, stepping outside to join them. With Mathews away again for a few weeks, he’d offered his services to perform the autopsy.

“But isn’t that what crocodiles do?” asked Finch. “Grab their victims and pull them under until they drown?”

“Yes,” said Jade.

Finch nodded, as though he had been vindicated.

“But,” continued Jade, musing to herself, “perhaps he was dead before the crocodile pulled him under. Maybe he’d been drinking and passed out in the water. Or maybe . . .” She let her thoughts trail off.

“Maybe what?” asked Finch.

Jade snapped to attention, his question startling her out of her reverie. It wasn’t unwelcome either, since she’d started seeing images of David, bloodied and dying, in her mind’s eye. “Oh, nothing,” she said.

“Miss del Cameron raises some interesting considerations,” said Dymant. “The man may have suffered a heart attack and fallen before the crocodile found him. But considering the condition of the body, I’m not at all sure we’ll ever know the answers.”

“Do what you can with him, Doctor,” said Finch. “And quickly. We need to get him in the ground soon enough. Singh, accompany the good doctor.”

“I shall get right to it, Inspector,” said Dymant. “As you see, I have my medical bag with me. Thank you for entrusting me with this examination.”

“I’d like to know what you find out,” said Jade. Dymant bowed and hastened inside, leaving Jade and Finch by the vehicles. “You called him in?” asked Jade.

“No. In point of fact, he came and offered his services,” said Finch. “Seemed most eager.”

“Curious,” said Jade.

“How so?”

Jade shrugged. “Well, for one thing, how did he know there was a body to be examined?”

Finch waved a hand in a motion of dismissal. “The question is, who
doesn’t
know? Once we made the call earlier for the chief game warden, everyone knew something was up. I had to notify the chief inspector just now and the secret was out.” He snorted. “Blasted telephone operators tattle to everyone and their aunt about everything.” Finch wagged a finger at Jade. “I swear the newspapers pay them to report anything of note.”

“I suppose that explains it,” said Jade.

“Yeeeesss,” drawled Finch, “but it doesn’t explain
your
interest in the results. Somehow I don’t think I can put it down to feminine curiosity.” He folded his arms over his chest and watched her.

Jade responded with her own question. “You don’t think finding a body is enough to warrant interest?”

Finch’s lips tightened. “Don’t evade my question, Miss del Cameron. Why are you so interested? Months ago, you were furious at being pulled into the investigation when that body was found in your friends’ coffee dryer.”

She arched one brow. “You tricked me into that one, remember?” She suddenly pictured Sam scowling at her, his arms folded across his chest, unhappy about her tendency to charge into danger. She gave her head a quick shake and sighed.
What difference does it make now?

“To answer your question, Inspector, I suppose it’s because this is the second body I’ve found this week. I don’t like coincidences.”

“You suspect foul play then? Is there something in particular that you’re not telling me? Because it doesn’t matter that you’re an American. You’re obligated to report to the police everything you know about this incident.”

“I told you all I know. I have nothing beyond a . . .” She paused, searching for a way to describe her suspicions. “Call it a gut feeling, if you like. Perhaps I’m reacting as much to these taunts I’ve received as anything else, but this man Waters’ fishing tackle was not left near the shoreline. It was by his truck. So he wasn’t standing at the shore fishing when a croc surprised him. And we didn’t find any flasks or bottles lying about, so I doubt that he was drunk.”

Finch nodded as he pondered her assessment. “Those are good points, miss, and they are the very reasons
I
wanted an examination of the body. Otherwise I would have simply ruled it death by crocodile and moved on.”

Jade’s brows lifted in surprise. “So you agree with me?”

“Yes. Don’t be so shocked, Miss del Cameron. I’ve come to have some respect for your perspicacity. And since you’ve brought up those disagreeable items you’ve received, I must tell you that we’ve had no luck tracing their origins. Other than those from a postal clerk, there were no other prints on either the letter or the packet with the scarf. Of course, I cannot do anything at all with the last fragment you found in your chop box. It’s too charred. And even if there were prints, to what would I compare them? My records are limited.”

“Balderdash! You collected prints from half of Nairobi last July,” she said. “At the Agricultural Ball, remember?”

Finch looked at his shoes and frowned. “Hmm, yes, well. I was ordered to dispose of most of that collection. A few gentlemen with the ears of the governor were affronted by the entire episode.”

“Lord Colridge?”

“I believe he spearheaded the complaint, yes.”

Jade smiled. She’d first met the old pioneer settler just after the war. She could imagine him puffing out his bushy white mustache as he broached his concerns to Governor Northey. Even in Colridge’s advanced years, he was still a force to be reckoned with.

“What you tell me makes no sense, Inspector,” said Jade. “At least one of those parcels came from France, according to the postmark. It should have been handled by any number of people and have innumerable prints on it.”

“Which suggests that it didn’t actually come from France,” summarized Finch. Singh came back outside and Finch ordered him to examine Waters’ truck.

Jade considered the implication of Finch’s last statement. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to forge a foreign postmark and leave the package with the other mails to be put in the Dunburys’ Nairobi box. The dried mud may have been intended to make the items appear sepulchral, and to obscure prints and make the forged postmark less easy to spot.

“Do you think that Scotland Yard has a set of prints for Mathers Pellyn?”

Finch frowned. “And just who in the blazes might that be?”

“He was the lover of Olivia Lilith Worthy, and very likely part of her criminal enterprise. Possibly her partner.”

“Explain.”

Jade took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. “You know that I drove an ambulance during the war.” Finch nodded. “Near the end, a pilot crashed. He died in my arms.”