Treasure of the Golden Cheetah (13 page)

Mr. Julian shrugged. “It can’t be far, can it? We’ll simply stop by on our way up.”

Harry took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh for emphasis. “It could be on the other side of the bloody damn mountain for all we know.” He replaced his hat, turned towards the Chagga audience, and called for Zakayo to join him.

“Did you tell that bwana,” he said, nodding to Julian, “that you could take him to see an elder storyteller?”

Zakayo nodded vigorously. “Yes, Bwana Nyati. He asks about an ancient king that came from very far to see the mountain. A king called God’s lion. I told him I know a very old man who has heard of this story. The bwana promised much money to take him there.”

“Very good,” said Harry. “Now, where is this man’s village? Is it a far walk?”

Zakayo pointed to the Una River. “We follow water up the mountain. His village is there.”

After several more minutes of patient questioning, Harry determined that the village was actually Zakayo’s and only a mile upriver. He arranged for Zakayo to take them there tomorrow.

“We’ll leave at first light,” said Harry. “And we’ll come back here afterwards.”

Mr. Julian’s eyes opened wider in affronted astonishment. “Then we’ll go today,” he shouted. “It’s only a mile.”

“It’s
probably
only a mile away,” corrected Harry. “It could take us an hour to get there, lugging the cameras. And unless you plan to stay the night in the village, you’re going to be walking in a very dark forest with a few nocturnal predators, including leopards.”

He stood his ground as Julian stormed within a few inches of Harry’s face and jutted out his chin. “Mr. Julian,” Harry said, keeping his voice calm, “I know these natives better than you. You can’t just walk in there, demand a story, and get it. You need to introduce yourself. Bring a gift. Exchange pleasant ries. Then, when this elder feels he can trust you, he
might
tell his story, but he’ll embellish it, draw it out. A short tale carries no distinction. He’ll be all day about it.”

The director moved back one step and looked around the camp as though deliberating. Harry waited, his hands in his pockets. “After considering your advice, Hascombe,” Mr. Julian said, “I’ve reached a decision. We’ll leave tomorrow right after breakfast.”

Harry nodded. “Excellent. How many are going besides yourself and a cameraman?”

“What do you think, Morris?” he asked his assistant. “We might as well make use of the village while we’re there. Get some scenes of the present-day safari as though they’re asking about the same story, right?”

Mr. Homerman, a quintessential yes-man, nodded in agreement. “Certainly, Rex. You’ll want both cameras for different angles. And you’ll need everyone but Miss Zagar, I should think.”

“I’m not staying here by myself,” said Pearl. “I want to see this, too.”

“Hmm,” mused Julian. “We’ll need Hascombe’s natives. And that girl we hired for a maid. She should come in case one of the actresses needs her. Hell, might as well bring up everyone.”

“We’ve got to leave some of my men behind to guard the camp,” said Harry. “I want the cook and Nakuru to stay here. Nakuru can pick two men to go with us.”

“Yeah. I suppose you’re right, Hascombe. That’s what I had in mind anyway.” Mr. Julian started barking orders to everyone. “Listen up. We’re all going into the forest tomorrow. So get ready whatever you need to take. We’re gonna shoot a new scene. It’s not in the script.”

He proceeded to explain everyone’s role. Jade looked around for Lwiza and Jelani. She needed to tell Lwiza how to dress for the walk and wanted to learn what Jelani’s plans were. Lwiza, she noted, was engaged in bargaining with a Chagga woman for a pawpaw. Before she could locate Jelani, Harry joined her.

“Bloody dictator,” he said, jerking his chin towards Julian. “Wonder if he plans to tell the Chagga how to act. This ought to be interesting tomorrow.”

“I presume we’ve got something to give to the elder as a gift for his story,” said Jade.

Harry rubbed his chin bristles and frowned. “But what? You got any ideas in that pretty head of yours?”

“What about one of the props?” suggested Jade.

“The what?”

“Props, Harry. The stuff they set around in their scenes. They’ve surely got something they don’t need in there. Something for their Menelik tent scenes.”

“Good idea, Jade. What’s one less gaudy brass vase, right?” Harry jerked a finger towards the director. “Go ask him.”

Jade laughed. “
You
ask him. I’m in charge of the women, right?”

Harry shifted his feet and rubbed his jaw. “Man’s a bloody nuisance.”

“Oh, come now, Harry. You’re not afraid of him, are you?” Jade asked, goading him into action. “Who’s the big bwana here?”

Harry grinned and puffed out his chest. “I am.
I
give the orders.”

Jade saw the glint in his brown eyes and didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. “Now, wait a minute, Harry,” she began.

He planted a quick kiss on her cheek, darting back before she could belt him for the impertinence. “And I’m ordering
you
to see to this petty detail,” he said. “I’ve got a camp to run.” He pivoted on one heel and strode off, his rumbling laugh drifting back to her.

“You’ll pay for this, Harry,” Jade called after him. “Me and my big mouth,” she muttered, rubbing her cheek. She looked for the director and spied Homerman fidgeting with a stack of papers. Suddenly, she had an idea of her own. Harry had passed on the chore to
his
second in command, so she’d do the same and approach Julian’s assistant.

“Mr. Homerman,” she called, “I need to speak with you a moment.” Jade explained their need for a gift to give to the Chagga elder. “I’ve seen all the brass- and tin-plated dishes you brought for your historical scenes. Surely you can spare something out of those boxes.” As she spoke, she took his arm and guided him towards the bungalow and the stored props.

“Well, I suppose . . .” he mumbled.

“Exactly what I was thinking, Mr. Homerman. Better to grease the wheels and get the elder to tell his story than traipse all the way up to the village for nothing.”

“Oh, yes. I see what you mean,” Mr. Homerman said. “Rex would not be happy then.”

“Not at all. But he’ll be very pleased when you tell him your idea and he sees the results. You do have a key to the boxes, don’t you?”

“Of course.” He patted his pockets. “Must have left them somewhere.” He stopped and put a finger to his mouth, tapping his lips. “Oh, yes, I recall. I hid them in that kitchen. Handier there. Wouldn’t have to carry them around.”

They went into the house towards the former kitchen and headed towards the back wall. Lwiza stepped out from behind the blanket partition.

“Did you need me for something,
bibi
?” she asked.

“Ah, Lwiza,” said Jade. “I did want to talk to you about tomorrow. We’re all walking into the forest to a Chagga village. Mr. Julian wants you to come, too. So you should ask the other women what they will need and make sure it’s all packed for them.”

“Yes,
bibi
.”

“It’s not here!” exclaimed Mr. Homerman.

“What’s not here?” asked Jade. “The keys?” Jade joined Mr. Homerman. “Are you sure you’re looking in the right spot?” The man was hopelessly addled. He could have left them anywhere.

“Yes. Well, very nearly certain. I’m almost definitely sure, I think . . .” He pointed to the opening left when the stovepipe was removed from the room. It was above eye level and partly blocked by an abandoned nest of some sort. “I put the keys in that nest. That way I wouldn’t misplace them.”

“Maybe they fell to the ground or someone borrowed them,” said Jade, thinking of their practical joker. “How much of a secret was that spot?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell very many people,” he said. “Rex, of course. Oh, dear!” he murmured. “If I recall correctly, he was talking with Conrad and a few of the other actors and actresses at the time. Murdock was there. I think Miss Zagar, too. She came to get something out of one of the crates yesterday. I can’t think who else.”

Jade sighed.
Who else indeed. The entire camp probably knows by now
. “Have you seen any keys, Lwiza?”

“No,
bibi
. If you do not need me,” said Lwiza, “I will go see to the packing.”

“Yes, good. Thank you, Lwiza.” She turned back to Homerman. “I’ll go see if anyone has the keys. In the meantime, Morris, look to see if they got shoved farther back in the flue hole or if they fell and got kicked into a corner.”

Jade hurried out of the house. She spied Murdock and motioned for him to join her.

“Woody, do you have the keys to the crates?”

Murdock shook his head, his red hair flaming in the sun. “Sure don’t. They missing?”

Jade shook her head. “Just misplaced as usual. Mr. Homerman thought you or Pearl might have them.”

“Morris is a few worms shy of a full bait bucket, Jade. He’s probably put them in a coat pocket.”

“You may be right.” She sighed. “I’ll try Pearl anyway.” Jade headed for Miss Zagar’s tent and rapped on the tent pole to announce herself. “Pearl? Hello?”

No one answered. Jade pushed aside the tent flap to see if she was napping inside. She wasn’t, but the keys lay plainly on her cot atop a jumble of clothes. Jade stepped in and reached for them, then jerked her hand back.

Next to the keys was a lone black stocking, lightly stuffed with packing material. One red eye had been painted on it, a metal tube of lip rouge beside it.

CHAPTER 8

—The Traveler

JADE LEFT THE UNFINISHED SNAKE PUPPET ON PEARL’S COT AND went in search of the actress. She found her coming from the privy.

“Pearl,” Jade called to her, “I need to speak with you.”

“I’m rather busy at the moment. . . .”

“Now! In your tent.” Jade kept her voice low, but firm. Pearl shrugged and followed Jade.

“What’s this about?” Pearl demanded.

“Inside, please,” said Jade as she pushed aside a tent flap.

Pearl hesitated a moment, her eyelids half-lowered as she studied Jade’s face. Then she shrugged and stepped in. Jade followed, not speaking, waiting for the woman’s reaction.

“Did one of the natives come in here or—” Pearl stopped abruptly and stared at her cot. “What,” she said, pointing to the stocking, “is that stupid thing doing here?”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, of course not.” She snatched the stuffed stocking and thrust it at Jade. “I thought you disposed of it when you took it out of the bath tent the other day.”

“It’s a different one,” said Jade. “A work in progress.” She held it up to show the one eye.

“Oh, my stars,” exclaimed Pearl. “It
is
different.”

“Something you want to tell me?” asked Jade.

“What? You think
I
was making one of those stupid things? Try Brown or Budendorfer. They’re the comedians. I saw them pour pepper into Conrad’s canteen this morning.”

Jade kept her gaze locked onto Pearl’s eyes and waited. Pearl folded her arms in front of her chest and looked back at her cot. She spied the metal canister of lip rouge and picked it up.

“Ha!” She pulled off the lid and thrust the cream at Jade. “This is not my color.”

“That proves nothing,” Jade said. “Except that you didn’t waste your own cosmetics on the stocking.” She picked up the stocking snake, turned, and stepped outside.

Pearl followed. “Hey, just what were you doing in my tent anyway!”

“I was looking for some keys.” Jade pulled the set from her pocket and jangled them.

“Oh! Well, I
did
have them. I needed to get out one of the wigs.”

Bebe and McAvy came by at that moment. Bebe took one look at the stocking snake and clutched McAvy’s arm. “Not another one!” she shrieked. Then she noticed the unfinished eyes and stared first at Jade, then at Pearl. “You!” she said, pointing to Pearl. “You’re the one who’s been tormenting me. I want her off this set,” she snapped.

Pearl rolled her eyes expressively. “Puh-lease!” She gasped. “Why would I waste my time?”

“Then what’s it doing here by your tent?” demanded Bebe. “You were making another one, weren’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll have something to say about this to Rex.”

“Tell Mr. Hall to empty and rinse his canteen while you’re at it,” yelled Jade after her.

The three watched as Bebe stormed off to find the director. Chuckling, McAvy reached for the toy snake and turned it over in his big hands. “We do have a practical joker in our midst,” he said, handing the sock back to Jade.

“And under other circumstances it might be funny,” said Jade, “but Miss Malta’s a bit too keyed up as it is. I’d appreciate it if you’d help me spread the word that I’d really like this sort of thing to stop.”