Today's Embrace (29 page)

The cattle issue—was it about Ndebele cattle?

“Parnell said their Umlimo blame the growing drought on the white man's presence.”

“That, and a few other things. Their superstitions run rampant, I'm afraid. And the policies enforced under Harry Whipple and his Shona police aren't turning the indunas into stalwart friends.”

“Do you blame my grandfather?” she challenged.

“He's the one who made Harry Whipple head over the police. Whipple is hated by the indunas, and with good reason at times. He has a weakness for being a thug and a bully.”

She agreed with that, but linking her grandfather to some of the ugly incidents she'd heard about recently was unfair.

“The talk of the Black Diamond, too, has done harm,” Captain Retford said quietly. He came close to her, his eyes serious. “I know you don't care to hear this. You're devoted to your grandfather, and that's normal. I understand he was the father in your life.”

She stiffened at the mention of
father
. She didn't want to talk about her childhood and its lack of parental guidance and love.

Retford went on: “The indunas have heard whispers that your grandfather is searching for the Black Diamond. You can imagine how upsetting this is to them. Lobengula was like a god to them. If the Umlimo, whom they trust as the oracle, warns them that the white man is out to steal and plunder, what do you think will be their reaction, Miss Bley?”

“That's beside the point! They're wrong.”

“Yes, they're mostly wrong. That's why Dr. Jakob is here. To reach them with the truth of Scripture, with the news of a God of light and mercy, who has given His Son for their redemption—but it confuses them when the white men in charge steal their cattle, conscript their young men to build their roads, and occupy too much of the cattle land.”

“You sound like the ever-complaining missionary lobby in London, Captain. They're always going before Parliament declaring the ‘evils' of the British!”

“In some cases they are very right.”

“And of course the natives are mistreated, taken advantage of, and lorded over like slaves!”

“You asked what I thought about future trouble, Miss Bley. I'm telling you my honest thoughts. If Sir Julien searches the Matopos for the royal burial cave of Lobengula in order to retake that diamond, then he's putting the colony of farmers at risk. He won't listen to Dr. Jakob van Buren. He certainly won't listen to me. But
you
he might listen to. You just might be able to stop an unnecessary bloodletting.”

She was horrified but quickly restrained herself. “Then—you think it will come to that?”

“I've told your grandfather I do. I requested he send for reinforcements and ask the women to leave. He is of another mind, Miss Bley.”

“And so am I,” she stated coolly. “I won't run away, Captain. Not now, not ever. And after what's happened to Anthony, my grandfather will need me here beside him more than ever.”

Captain Retford looked at her long and hard. Darinda felt oddly embarrassed and turned her gaze away.

“I've no authority to order you and Mrs. Bartley to Fort Salisbury. So your wish to stay is likely to be upheld by your grandfather.”

She moved away from the chair and walked to the window. A gust blew against her, prompting her memory. The window in Anthony's bungalow … the
open
window from which Parnell had claimed to see a fleeting figure crouching near the bushes. At the time Anthony was already dead … at least, he should have been, if he'd been dead an hour by the time she'd discovered his body. Anthony must have been attacked almost immediately after he'd left her on the path. Yet, she had heard nothing—or had she?

And the figure outside the window—
if
there'd been a figure, could have been Anthony's murderer.

Tap, tap
, the rattan blind bumped against the edge of the window in a stronger breeze.

The breeze rippled against her face, her neck, moving her hair. Darinda ran a palm over her dark hair, thinking, looking into the night's shadows, seeing nothing as her thoughts rolled on.

She turned suddenly. “Parnell may have glimpsed the murderer.”

“What was that?” Ryan walked up.

She explained quickly. Then: “But if it was Anthony's murderer he noticed, why would the person wait around afterward?”

“Yes … whoever it was took the chance of being seen in the vicinity. Was the conversation between the three of you important in any way?”

“No. Arcilla and I chatted about her fears, and I tried to calm her. Maybe ten minutes later Parnell walked in from his bungalow.”

“Ten minutes, you say?”

“Yes, I'm sure it was.”

“He said he came from his bungalow?”

“Well, no.”

“You assumed that he came from there?”

She narrowed her lips. “I suppose you think—”

“I think nothing in particular, Miss Bley. But I'll need to report this as new information. No one mentioned this to your grandfather earlier.”

“None of us felt at the time that the murderer was loitering about the open window,” she went on briskly. “It was just something that Parnell thought he'd seen. Arcilla had apparently heard something earlier. She was nervous and asked him to shut the window. That's when he may have caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a crouching figure.”

“It's a very risky thing for the murderer to be eavesdropping.”

She looked at him for an explanation.

“Whether or not it was the murderer, I can't say. But it was likely someone who knew about the murder and was trying to listen to your conversation.”

“But nothing of importance was discussed. So why go to so much trouble to listen to Arcilla's hysteria?”

“Well, then, his purpose might not have been to eavesdrop at all, but to enter Anthony's room for some reason.”

Darinda snapped the window shut. “Yes, that is possible.”

Her eyes were busy as they moved slowly about the room, taking in every piece of furniture, every object on the tables, as though she were seeing not Captain Retford's bungalow, but Anthony's.

“Perhaps the murderer hadn't expected anyone to be inside the bungalow,” she whispered.

“The murderer would know that Anthony wasn't there. The three of you may have hindered him from entering after Lord Brewster's death. You can imagine his frustration as the discourse you mentioned dragged on.”

“In fact, he never got inside Anthony's bungalow,” she said hurriedly, “because—”

“Because even after we all left, you stayed on to speak alone with your grandfather.”

“And after Grandfather left, I still stayed and waited—” She looked at him; his eyes reflected understanding.

“And he could not have gotten in until I left and saw the light burning in your window. And—”

Captain Retford rushed to the door and out in a flash.

Darinda followed him down the porch steps and along the path toward Anthony's bungalow. She arrived a minute after Retford and rushed inside, where the oil lamp still glowed. She stopped in the bedroom doorway. Retford stood looking about at the confusion.

“We're just minutes too late,” he said.

The chest drawers were all pulled open and empty. The closet was disheveled, and the bedding had been torn from the mattress. Anthony's baggage was dumped on the floor, its contents, mostly articles of clothing, scattered.

“What could they have been after? Money? Diamonds—”

He shook his head. “Information is my guess, either from the Home Office in London, or Capetown.”

Darinda laid a hand on the wall to steady herself. She glanced at him, but he wasn't noticing her reaction. She must take a chance.

“What do you mean? What information?”

Captain Retford turned to look at her. A curious light shone in his eyes. Darinda felt her face betraying her. She wanted to tear her eyes away from his, to escape that clear glance.

“Someone wanted something pretty badly,” he said quietly. “Your guess is as good as mine, Miss Bley. What was it that Lord Brewster brought with him here to Bulawayo?”

She knew it was the letter. Did he? Had he been in Government House when Anthony arrived? And had Retford also been in the inner circle when Anthony took Grandfather into his office?

She walked into the main room and sank tiredly into a chair.

A moment later he came from the bedroom. “I'll need to report this at once. Can you walk back with me to Government House?”

She stood abruptly. “Yes. I'm fine. You didn't think I was going to faint?”

A smile came to his face. “If I were a betting man, Miss Bley, I'd say you'd be the last to falter.”

A compliment, or not? She guessed the latter. She walked to the open door and down the steps. He followed, then led as they took the path back to Government House. A path that had seen murder and deception in the hours just before sunset of this very night. If the trees and bushes and bugs could talk, what story would they tell? What would the wait-a-bit tree say about someone dragging Anthony's body to the base of its trunk for her to accidentally discover?

Darinda followed, tired and worn, longing for her room, a bath, a strong cup of tea.

They did not speak further. She guessed he was trying to piece together the events of the day and what they might mean.

She, too, was thoughtful; her thoughts were anything but comforting. She was not the only one interested in that letter. She had been merely curious to know the extent of any reprimand upon her
grandfather. There must be something more to this. Something more important than she had suspected.

The moon had set behind the mountains. The stars were glowing. Her heart felt cold.

A hyena warbled and sobbed in the darkness.

Arcilla's flesh prickled as she looked behind her into the night. The leaves on the bushes lining the walk up to Government House shimmered in the windy moonlight. Peter had been delayed from returning with her, as they'd met Dr. Jameson. He'd heard about Anthony and ridden out to get all the facts. Afterward he'd wanted Peter to attend a meeting at his house. Arcilla had gone with Peter and had been served tea while Peter went with Jameson and some other officers into the meeting. Finally, she'd had to send a message to Peter through the cook that she needed to get back to Baby Charles. Dr. Jameson had insisted one of his aides safely escort her back to Government House while Peter stayed to finish the meeting.

This time, surely, after what had happened to Anthony, Peter would keep his promise to come home early to cheer her and cuddle his baby son.

Arcilla opened the front door and stepped inside the big rambling bare wood room everyone called the common room. Here, attachés working for Julien, Peter, and the Company police had their desks and chairs lined around the walls. One of those desks belonged to Captain Ryan Retford.

A few small oil lamps were burning on several of the desks to cast a secure glow. She grimaced, for the light also revealed bugs that disappeared into the cracks when she approached. She walked slowly to give
them time to scurry away. Anything to avoid them. Little lizards walked the ceiling. She liked the geckos; she thought they ate lots of bugs. Some bugs didn't run away, but seemed to run
toward
her. Before the rainy season there were spiders, lots of spiders. Some were flying spiders—to her, at least, they appeared to fly. Peter claimed he needed calming pills as the rainy season approached just to endure her screams. Peter always exaggerated. Her screams weren't loud, just little shrieks. At night she would make him wake up and lead the way safely to the “powder room.” Sometimes he would need to carry her.

“My
dear
, can you not just ignore them?”

“You're heartless. How can I? They squish if you step on them.”

Standing in the common room, she looked along the floor before walking. She picked up the hem of her straight skirt and tiptoed across to some steps.

There was a square woven matlike rug in the center of the floor. She moved as quietly as she could toward some crude wooden steps that led to the top rooms used for private sleeping quarters. She'd complained loudly to all that one small bedroom was not enough with a baby, so Peter had bribed the workmen to add a second small room and a “powder room.”

She was climbing the steps when she noticed a sliver of light under the door of Uncle Julien's office.

They had left Julien at the bungalow with Darinda. From there he was supposed to have ridden with Harry Whipple's police and Shona guards to question the induna at his kraal. Arcilla could never remember how many indunas there were, nor how many kraals.
Anyway, I don't care
. Perhaps Julien had not gone to question the induna after all.