Sleuth on Safari Page 6

  “This isn’t Jurassic World, Charlotte.”

  “And this isn’t Murder She Wrote, Naomi.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “We’re on vacation, not on a murder mystery tour. And other than the dead body this morning, it has been lovely.”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. “There’s something not right about it.”

  “Man dies on vacation. No, that’s not right. But it happened. We move on.”

  But I couldn’t.

  Charlotte snapped the lights off and ordered me to sleep. She fluffed her pillows again and tried to get comfortable on her side, away from me.

  I stared at the white mesh netting. The room remained visible with the light of the moon. I listened. It was quiet. Middle of nowhere quiet.

  Charlotte sighed and mumbled a profanity. She rolled on her back. “All I’m saying is, what’s the alternative? Someone murdered him and framed the hyenas?”

  “A hyena isn’t a likely scapegoat. Maybe that’s why it worked.” And worked so well.

  She snapped the lights back on. “Who even knew hyenas could do that much damage?” I looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Fine, we knew, but not until Jack told us. You think he told anyone else?”

  Jack could talk, so I had to assume everyone knew about the hyenas and their pack behavior and strong jaws.

  “Besides Jack,” I said, “I bet if you researched the animals you’ll likely see on safari, you’d know. It was Hyena 101.”

  “And you only know about 101 classes, don’t you?”

  “Ha-ha. I made it to my sophomore year in college. So I know about more than just the basics.” I had left college because I thought life in the real world would teach me more. All it taught me was that life was hard.

  “He looked like a professor, didn’t he? That was my first thought when I saw him in the boarding area. A college professor. We don’t know anything about him.”

  “You think he was medical doctor?” I asked.

  “I assumed so. I didn’t really care enough to ask.” She turned to me. “That’s a good question. I’ve had plenty of teachers in undergraduate that had doctorates or PhDs in their field. But does it matter?”

  I shrugged. “Probably not.” I had tried to Google him on my phone but hadn’t been able to get a signal all day.

  The silence returned. The five in the morning wake-up call was quickly approaching and we both knew we should get some sleep.

  “Who would come up with such a plan?” Charlotte asked.

  “Someone with a very devious mind.”

  She tapped me on my temple. “Like this one?” she asked.

  “Well, we both know I didn’t do it.”

  “How?” She propped herself on her elbow and looked at me. “You snuck out the night before for a few drinks with Mr. Wallace. No escort.”

  I smiled. “Don’t make it sound so lascivious.”

  “Just saying you’d be the obvious choice. You found him and you’re known to leave the room at night unescorted.”

  “Known to?” I asked.

  “Please, gossip in a place like this spreads like wildfire.” She plopped back onto her pillows. “What’s a little jaunt to the next hut?”

  “Once. I left once at night to go to the bar. Before I even knew we needed an escort at night. I missed that part of orientation. Thanks for telling me, sis.”

  “It never crossed my mind you’d leave the room after I went to bed.”

  I waited, hoping she’d continue. Surely, she didn’t think I had murdered Dr. Higgins. I didn’t think she had. Although I was relieved when I hadn’t found bloody clothes and a murder weapon in her luggage.

  “Fine,” she finally said. “I know it wasn’t you.” I was relieved my sister knew I wasn’t a murderer. “I would have found your bloodstained clothes if you had.”

  Trust but verify. It confirmed we were sisters. Sometimes I had my doubts.

  Our father had learned the “Trust but verify” rule the hard way. Thanks to our mom. How many times had she said the guy from the gym, the office, or the bakery was “just a friend”? Each was a fleeting affair, which Dad unknowingly paid for, until Mother lost interest. Because she always lost interest. Dad learned that too the hard way, after the brief reconciliation. It made for interesting divorce court proceedings and an easy decision for me to go live with Dad.

  “And the more obvious reason is I have no motive,” I reminded her.

  “Motive…that’s your most obvious reason that this wasn’t murder. Why would someone kill him?” she asked.

  “Can you say anyone liked him here?”

  “No, no one liked him, but most people aren’t murdered just for being a pain in the neck.” She paused and swallowed hard. “Sorry, poor turn of phrase. But that kind of annoyance takes years to build up in order for someone to snap.” She turned on her side, away from me again. “Time for bed. You’ve talked out your paranoia. He was not murdered. He’d never been here before. He was traveling here alone. He didn’t know anyone here.”

  I wondered if that was true.

  Midday

  Charlotte was right. We didn’t know anything about him. After breakfast I wandered around the lodge in search of an internet signal. I could Google him. But “Dr. Higgins” wasn’t much to go on. I didn’t know where he lived. I didn’t know what he did for a living. I didn’t even know his first name.

  I regretted not talking to him more. Then I remembered how obnoxious he was.

  My search for an internet signal was fruitless and I found myself outside his room. All the information was within. I paced outside and pondered what to do. It was clear—I needed to check out his room. It was the only place I could think to find information.

  But the question was how I could get in.

  I walked up to the door and tried the door. Locked. I don’t know what I would have done if it had opened, other than be surprised.

  I walked back up the walkway and tried to think of another way in. Other than the front door, the only other way in was the patio door, at the back. From the walkway, I looked at the end of the hut. If I walked along the perimeter of the room, I might be able to get to the patio. I leaned in, considering it. The terrain was rough and I didn’t know how high the patio would be off the ground. Plus, I didn’t know what else lurked in the greenery. Spiders? Scorpions? I knew about the Big Five and nothing about the little predators that might be waiting.

  The patio option seemed dangerous and hard to explain if I got caught. And most likely, the patio door would be locked too.

  A housekeeper was approaching from the right. I kept my head down, hoping my face wouldn’t betray me.

  “Are you sad?” the housekeeper asked. “So sad about Dr. Higgins.”

  I glanced at the hut and then to her. “Yes, so sad about the good doctor,” I responded.

  “Did you come to pay your respects?” she asked.

  “Yes, yes I did.” I bit my lip. “Can you let me in?”

  She looked around. With no other staffers in sight, she nodded and waved me to follow her. “I’ll be cleaning his room next. You can go in until then.”

  “Oh, thank you.” I couldn’t believe my luck. She was just going to let me in. Things work differently outside the States. I had no money on me but made a mental note of her name, Coral, to add to her tip envelope when we departed.

  She unlocked the door with her master key and I took a deep breath before walking in, preparing myself for the scene. The body would be gone but if they hadn’t cleaned the room yet, his remnants would still be there.

  But they weren’t. It was clean. As clean as our suite, when we checked in.

  I didn’t know if I should be impressed or scared. Had they cleaned a crime scene before? Did they do it regularly? Was room five the one for human sacrifices? With no internet, we couldn’t send for help, and we couldn’t check if this was the first time or if the lodge was regularly hit with “accidents.”

  I w
as getting paranoid.

  I needed some sleep.

  I had tossed and turned all night.

  I took a deep breath and assured myself this was the one and only hyena incident they had ever had. But I planned to check once I got an internet signal, just in case. Again, I was astonished at how clean the sitting area was. Not a spot of blood, or other body tissue, could be seen. I worried for the housekeepers’ spouses if they could clean up a crime scene this well.

  Our room wouldn’t require much cleaning, so I knew my time to investigate was limited. I went to the wardrobe. His clothes hung neatly on hangers. Pants, shirt, T-shirts. All safari-approved colors—varying from olive green to khaki. I patted the clothes down but there was nothing in them. His luggage sat on the luggage rack. I checked the two outside zippered compartments of the leather duffle. Empty. I opened it and it was empty, as were the two inside zippered areas. I ran my hand along the inside of the bag. No secret compartments. Nothing small hidden in the seams. And no luggage tag hanging from its handles.

  The luggage had a lovely feel and I checked the label. I doubt I could afford it. It was worn but in excellent shape. I wondered if he took adventure trips like this often. It only added to the impression he was channeling Indiana Jones.

  The wardrobe a bust, I looked around the room. Where else could I look?

  An older guy like him…maybe he was on a prescription. I chastised myself. Anyone planning a trip to Africa knew the risk of malaria and I assumed all of us were taking antimalarial medications. I couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t be on them too. His name and maybe more personal information would be on the bottle. I ran to the bathroom.

  His toiletry bag matched his duffle. Same brand. Same vintage brown leather. And same result as the wardrobe.

  Had the killer cleared out all his personal information? Or had the lodge staff sent it off with his body. But left his clothing? I doubted it.

  Standing at the bathroom doorway, I looked around the room. Where would you keep something safe in a hotel room? My eyes stopped at the far closet. Of course, I could have slapped my head in frustration. The safest place was the safe.

  I ran up to it and found it locked. Only a safe in use would be locked. My hands hovered over the digital keypad. Not knowing anything about Dr. Higgins made guessing his code difficult. He didn’t seem like a man to pick something obvious. No 1-1-1-1 for him. I doubted it would be sentimental either. No anniversaries, birthdays, or the like. For Dr. Higgins, it would be random. And that made it impossible to guess. I had no idea how many possible combinations there were. I should have paid attention in math class.

  I took a stab and hit 5-3-8-1. Three beeps and it remained locked. I tried 1-8-3-5. Three beeps and it remained locked. Fearing a third unsuccessful guess would produce even louder beeps, I gave up.

  I plopped in the chair. The Chair. The chair I had found his mutilated body in yesterday.

  I should have recoiled but I was too tired. The African heat and early mornings, plus the shock of finding a dead body and the ensuing paranoia that one of my fellow travelers was a murderer, really took it out of me. I closed my eyes. Just for a minute or two, I thought.

  A tap on my shoulder startled me and I screamed.

  “I’m sorry, Miss,” Coral said, hovering over me. “I have to clean the room now.”

  “Oh. Okay. Sure.” I struggled to my feet. “Thank you.”

  She nodded and watched as I scurried out.

  Charlotte ran into me on the walkway.

  “I heard you scream. What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Looking at her disheveled clothes and hair, I asked, “Were you sleeping?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you heard me scream?”

  “Yes.”

  Eyebrows raised, I waited for her to realize it. Asleep, one hut away, she had heard me scream.

  Why had we not heard Dr. Higgins?

  Afternoon Game Drive

  Refreshed from an after-lunch nap, I arrived at reception twenty minutes early for our next game drive. Zaden was wandering around with his phone in the air. I caught him several times a day doing this. The search for a signal.

  “At what point will he give up?” Zonah asked Sabrina.

  “When he reaches his dad,” Sabrina answered. “He tried calling him before and the call connected but C.K. didn’t answer. Now, he wants to email his dad but can’t get the Wi-Fi signal.”

  Sonny pulled up and Ray headed to whatever staff area had his cooler prepared with sundowners. Zonah went off after Zaden, who had walked out of sight.

  “He just wants to talk to his dad,” Sabrina explained to me.

  I nodded.

  Zonah and Zaden came back arguing. I didn’t see a resemblance between the two and still couldn’t decipher their relationship. Were they brothers or cousins? Was Zonah his uncle? Or his future stepfather? I had no idea. When the trip began, that was supposed to be the only big mystery of the trip.

  “Time to get in the truck, Zaden,” Sabrina told him.

  He ignored her and attempted one more lap around reception in search of a Wi-Fi signal. She snatched his phone away. “MOM!” Zaden yelled.

  “Time to get in the truck, Zaden,” she repeated and pointed toward the vehicle.

  “I want to call Dad.”

  “I know that. He’s fine. We’ll talk to him later.”

  “You don’t know that. I just want to make sure after what you—”

  “Stop it,” Sabrina hissed. She looked around to see if anyone had heard. I pretended not to.

  I waved at the approaching Hazel, who didn’t notice, and then followed her to the Land Cruiser.

  “Where’s Colin?” I asked as I sat next to Hazel in the middle row.

  “Not feeling well,” she answered, not looking me in the eye.

  The rest of the travelers boarded and after our customary greeting with Sonny and Ray, we were off.

  Ray was back to his short-sleeve shirt but had a new accessary—a large bandage on his right forearm.

  From my perch in the top row, I noted every point Ray made with the bandaged arm. I was not the only one who gasped as we came upon a mud pool with a crash of rhinoceros. Sonny explained that this grouping was from a family. He’d seen this crash before. He told us the bigger ones were teenagers in the rhino world and the smaller one was a toddler.

  I looked around for a mother rhino, fearing maybe she wouldn’t like us this close to her family. I was the only one who seemed concerned. The rest observed and enjoyed their interaction. They documented the encounter with plenty of photos—except for Hazel, who was looking in the rhinos’ direction but didn’t seem to seeing them.

  For several minutes, the three hippos rolled around in the mud, as if they were playing. The two bigger ones had enough and lay down to rest in the cool muddy waters. The smallest still had more energy and tried to get the other two back up. They grunted at each other until the smallest slid between the two, appearing to give up. Every few seconds, he’d push around, trying to rouse his fellow rhinos. He finally relented and settled in for a rest.

  “See, even rhinos have annoying little siblings!” Sonny joked before putting the cruiser back in drive. Ten minutes later, he found a clearing for our nightly dose of sundowners.

  Hazel had been unusually quiet during the drive. She usually oohed and aahed at every new sight. She’d point at animals she thought someone hadn’t seen. She’d poke you in the side or arm if she didn’t think you had seen what she thought was so amazing, even if you had. I didn’t see her use the camera once during the game drive.

  She wore a long-sleeve tan shirt. It looked like it would make you so hot and uncomfortable in the strong African sun. I couldn’t imagine wearing one. But if it protected your skin from cancer I guess it was worth it. I debated asking her about it but chose silence instead. If forced into conversation with her I’d have something ready.

  I stood around her awkwardly as Ray handled our sundowner beverage order.
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br />   “Sometimes…sometimes he struggles with the war,” she blurted out after sipping her champagne.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked, not knowing what she was talking about.

  “PTSD. My granddaddy would have called it shell-shocked.”

  I nodded, having no idea what response to give.

  “PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “Oh yes.” I nodded again. “I hope he feels better soon.” I made to walk away.

  “He was in Vietnam,” she continued, which halted my progress. I made eye contact with Charlotte, seeking help. She smiled and raised her glass in a mock toast. I silently cursed her. She was smiling broadly, talking to Jack, and knew full well I was looking for help. Wait until she needed an “emergency call” the next time she had a boring date with one of the hospital’s residents.

  “Vietnam?” I asked. “I thought you were from Canada?”

  “We emigrated in the eighties, before you were probably born.” I didn’t disagree and she continued. “He can be fine for months and then something sets him off.” She downed the rest of her champagne.

  She continued talking but I was stuck on “set him off.” Dr. Higgins and Colin had argued during his last game drive. Had that set him off?

  “He’s very upset about Dr. Higgins. I think that’s what set him off…this time. All that blood. But one never knows.”

  “How much blood could he have seen? He was all the way at the end of the walkway.”

  She hesitated before mumbling “Umm…” She looked around at our fellow travelers, with a look of desperation, as I had looked at Charlotte for help just a few moments ago. Like me, she found none but she did find her words. “There was a lot of blood. We all saw it. A lot of blood.” She pointed to the others. “Just ask them. There was a lot of blood.”

  I took a sip of my champagne and plotted my next question. “You two were at the treehouse that night, weren’t you?”

  She hesitated again before answering. She looked at her empty champagne glass, as if willing it to refill. “Yes…we went to the treehouse.”