Sleuth on Safari Page 7

  She caught me staring at her. I expected her to drone on about her experience at the treehouse like she had with the Wallaces. “Nothing to worry about, dear.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t believe her. I saw fear in her eyes.

  She waved for Ray to fill up her glass. He didn’t see her, busy with getting Jack another bottle of beer. As she walked toward him, I was glad I was freed from the awkward conversation. It had gained me no leads in the death of Dr. Higgins but something bothered me about her and our conversation.

  She and Colin had been miles away from the lodge, at the treehouse, when Dr. Higgins died, weren’t they?

  Dinner

  In the dark, we rode back to the lodge. Ray held out a spotlight in hopes of seeing animals roaming the landscape. Like the previous nights, we found nothing.

  My stomach rumbled. The only thing I wanted to see was a full plate of food in front of me.

  I watched the spotlight as Ray swung it back and forth in search of bright eyes looking back. I started to feel nauseous. The bumpy terrain probably didn’t help either.

  I stopped following the light and closed my eyes. Someone would tell me if there was something to see. But with my eyes shut the nausea was worse.

  I opened them and tried to focus on something. Anything.

  Geri wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. It wasn’t cold but the cooler temperatures were amplified by being in an open vehicle, traveling fast. At least it felt fast in the dark.

  Jack wore a scarf too. I wondered if Charlotte had brought one. If it had been on the packing list, she had one. I hadn’t seen her wear one and I couldn’t remember if the Wallaces had worn their scarves on our other night drives. The only apparel I remembered was my poor choice of a blue shirt. I think everyone remembered that.

  Everyone’s fashion was safari drab—tan, beige, khaki. And a little olive—that really spiced things up. I looked around at the group. Only the Wallaces wore scarves.

  Was it a fashion accessary? Or something more sinister? Were they covering up signs of a struggle?

  We returned to the lodge. A waiter greeted us with warm towels soaked in lavender water, something I would never tire of.

  Advice pointed us to a table, set for two. He directed the other guests to their tables. Each party was dining by themselves tonight.

  Advice returned with our drinks, bitter lemon with vodka, and handed us a menu. A three-course dinner awaited. I chose the salad, lamb, and lemon cake with strawberries.

  After our orders were placed, and the waiter was out of earshot, I asked, “Did you bring a scarf with you on vacation?”

  “A scarf? It’s ninety degrees during the day and not exactly cold at night.”

  “I noticed the Wallaces are wearing scarves.” I pointed in their direction. “I thought maybe it was on the packing list.”

  “Oh, like a bandana. I saw ones like that sold in the gift shop. You use them during the day to wipe away dust and sweat. You can douse them with water when it’s hot and wrap it around your neck. Some even have bug repellant in them too. I probably should have brought one. Lesson learned. The Wallaces have been on a bunch of safaris. They probably have a more thorough packing list than the one the lodge provided. They just sent us a basic one.” She turned to look at the Wallaces, who were still wearing their scarves. “They’ve worn it the other drives too…I think.”

  Our starters arrived and I dug in. My appetite had returned with the appearance of the salads, a variety of greens doused in an apricot and ginger dressing.

  Charlotte was probably right. Jack and Geri were safari veterans. Just in case, later tonight or tomorrow I’d try to catch a glimpse of their necks for signs of a struggle.

  I used a piece of a roll to wipe up the last remnants of the dressing. The waiter removed our salad course and replaced it with our entrees. Charlotte had chosen the vegetarian option, the spinach quiche, and I had the lamb shank confit with poached pear and Swiss chard.

  I had a mouthful of deliciousness when Sonny approached our table.

  “Ladies, you remember you’re at the treehouse tonight, right?”

  We both smiled politely. I had completely forgotten about the treehouse. It was written somewhere on our itinerary, which remained crumpled at the bottom of my carry-on luggage. I was surprised Charlotte hadn’t mentioned it. Or reminded me to pack for it.

  “Thanks, Sonny,” I answered.

  “Good. I’ll meet you after dinner in reception.”

  Charlotte maintained her smile until he was out of earshot. “Has he lost his mind! I’m not staying in some treehouse miles away from everyone with a killer on the loose.”

  “Oh! You do believe me!”

  “I was talking about the hyenas,” she corrected me.

  “Ha-ha.” I glanced at my watch. Thirty minutes until he picked us up. I had plenty of time to enjoy my dinner and dessert. The moment I placed my utensils down, the waiter removed my dinner plate and presented me with dessert, a luscious lemon cake.

  I wished I had time, and stomach space, for another slice. Conversation was buzzing at the other tables and no one heard the ear-piercing screech of the chair as I pushed it back to stand. The second round of drinks during sundowners, plus who knows how many drinks during dinner, had raised the volume on our fellow guests. Headed to a remote sleeping spot, I was glad I’d only had the one glass of champagne and one cocktail.

  “You ready?” I asked Charlotte.

  She leaned back, highball glass in hand. “I’m not kidding. I’m not staying in the middle of nowhere by myself.”

  “Umm…you won’t be by yourself. I’m going.”

  “But you’re useless.”

  “Thanks.” I glanced at my watch again. Just ten minutes until we had to meet Sonny. “You were so excited when we booked it.”

  “That was before I saw the effects of not locking your door on safari. Treehouses don’t exactly have doors, do they? Making us easy prey.”

  “Well, I’m going.” I took a few steps to the room to grab an overnight bag. I figured she’d follow.

  “Okay, have fun.” She waved at Advice and he approached. “Can I get another bitter lemon and vodka?”

  He smiled and took her empty glass.

  “Really? You’re going to let me go by myself?”

  “You’re a grown woman. You can go or you can stay. I’m not your boss.”

  “Fine.” I headed to our room, with an escort. I packed my backpack with a change of clothes and toiletries. I kept expecting Charlotte to walk in and say she was kidding. More likely, she would storm in and concede to going with me.

  She did neither.

  I returned to the dining area, again with an escort, and found her chatting with the group. They had pushed their tables together. Geri, Jack, Sabrina, Zonah, Zaden, and Charlotte sat at a now large table, littered with the remnants on their dinners.

  Colin and Hazel had never joined the rest of us on the patio for dinner. Hazel returned to their room after the afternoon game drive. I hadn’t seen Colin since earlier in the day.

  I expected Zonah to be thrilled that Charlotte was sitting next to him but he looked disinterested. Was that for Sabrina’s benefit? Or had he lost interest? His facial hair was even thicker today. Was that part of his vacation plan? Time off from shaving? Or was time in the bathroom limited when sharing it with the two others in his group?

  “Good night,” I said to them.

  “Good luck!” Charlotte said with a smirk.

  “Ready,” I announced when I came upon Sonny.

  He was facing the other way and jumped at my greeting. “You snuck up on me, Naomi!” He looked over my shoulder. “Just you?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Really?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “You’re going to sleep out there by yourself?”

  “Yes,” I answered, rethinking my decision. “Is that a problem?”

  “No…not for me,” he answered. He turned toward the cruiser. “We’ve neve
r had someone stay there by themselves.”

  I hesitated at the Land Cruiser, not knowing where to sit. Should I sit up front with Sonny? Or go in the back? With no Ray, no tracker needed for this night ride, my view in the front wouldn’t be obstructed. But it was already dark, what view would I have in any seat?

  Sonny sensed my indecision. “You can sit up here with me. The ride isn’t long.”

  The Land Cruiser’s headlights lit our way along the dirt road. I missed Ray’s bright light scanning the area for animals. But this wasn’t a game drive. This was a cab ride to dump me off, alone, in a treehouse. I tried to remember how to get back to the lodge if I needed to. After three turns, I gave up. In the dark, I’d never find my way back. To be honest, in the daylight, I’d never find my way back either. Even if I wanted to. If it wasn’t safe to walk just a few hundred feet in the dark at the lodge, how did I think walking a few miles, in the dead of night would go?

  I started to tell Sonny to turn around, to take me back to my room, when the treehouse appeared. It shown with the lanterns lit, hanging along the top railings.

  He stopped the car and jumped out, but left the car running. In case he needed a quick escape?

  I hesitated, pretending to fiddle with my backpack. He didn’t notice and proceeded to the treehouse. Afraid to be left alone in the truck, I jumped out and followed him up the walkway. He reached up and unlocked the latch to let us in. He pointed to the right. “The bathroom.” I turned the corner to find a toilet and sink. It was the nicest outdoor facilities I’d ever seen.

  Just a few feet from the outside door was another door, also locked. He reached up to unlock that door’s lock. He cued me to lead the way. I ascended the stairs and was shocked at the stunning setup. This was glamour camping if I’d ever seen it.

  A beautiful bed, surrounded by the white mosquito netting, was topped with several pillows. A plush beige couch, with sand-colored patterned pillows, was in front of the bed. At the corner was a rustic table and chairs. I peeked in the cooler beside it, stocked with snacks and drinks.

  I leaned against the railing and took it all in. With the full moon, I could see the river. The gentle honks of the hippos were a lovely soundtrack to the night.

  “Any questions before I leave?” Sonny asked, bringing me back to the harsh reality that soon I’d be here alone.

  I looked around and wondered if I’d made the wrong decision. Sure, I lived alone and slept, most nights, alone. But being out here, all by myself, was something completely foreign.

  “Don’t be worried,” Sonny assured me. “If you have any problems, just call.”

  Call, I thought. I couldn’t imagine getting a cell signal out here.

  “Do people have problems out here?” I asked.

  “No, but if you don’t want to stay the whole night, just call. I’ll come back and get you.” He pointed to a phone and a walkie-talkie. He pointed to his belt, with a matching phone and walkie-talkie. “Use the phone to call reception. Or use the walkie-talkie if you need me to come and get you”—he leaned in—“and you don’t want the whole lodge to know.”

  I paused, relieved that escape was possible. But I’d be hard-pressed to call him in the middle of the night because I was scared. The man worked long, hard hours in grueling heat, with some really difficult characters, always with a smile on his face.

  “Don’t worry. People do it all the time,” he assured me.

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes. The Vankeys did it,” Sonny explained. “They called me after midnight to pick them up.” He shook his head. “He was really freaked out. Never seen anything like it. I was a little worried driving them back. I was kind of glad I had the shotgun. He was talking all sorts of nonsense. His wife was trying to calm him down, but it didn’t seem to be helping. He was mumbling about blood and knives and ‘Commies’. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “To each their own.”

  That certainly sounded like PTSD. It also sounded like their alibi was gone. The Vankeys were back on the suspect list.

  Sonny smiled and trotted down the steps. “Remember to lock the doors behind me.”

  As he drove away, I wished I’d asked him who—or what—the locks would keep out. I locked them both, triple-checked that they were secure, and ran back up the stairs. I stood at the far railing and watched the cruiser’s headlights disappear into the night.

  And I was alone, left with thoughts of the suspects. The people I had on day one thought were my fellow guests and lodge staff. Now I saw everyone from a sinister angle.

  The Vankeys: Colin was volatile. We had seen his anger triggered when Dr. Higgins was rude to his wife. Something out here at the treehouse had triggered him into a PTSD episode. Did he go to Dr. Higgins’ suite after his late-night return to the lodge? And was Hazel covering for him? When I asked her about staying at the treehouse the night Dr. Higgins died, she had said nothing about coming home early. She had even told the Wallaces how wonderful the treehouse was, a blatant lie.

  The Wallaces: Jack was quick to anger too, with a wife who enjoyed eliciting his jealousy. Maybe she had said something to trigger his jealousy that evening in the hopes of sparking his interest away from the bar and to her. Or maybe her flirtatiousness wasn’t as innocent as I had assumed. Maybe Dr. Higgins had invited her to his room and Jack caught them together and put an end to it and to Dr. Higgins.

  And the trio: There were a lot of questions there. Who they were to each other was my first one.

  And then there was the staff. Did they feel threatened by Dr. Higgins’ complaints? Jobs at a lodge like this were, most likely, highly desirable and profitable compared to other opportunities in the area. A threat to their livelihood was a threat to their, and their families’, lives.

  I took a deep breath and tried to remind myself I was on vacation.

  Night

  For what felt like hours, but was only twenty minutes, I enjoyed the treehouse. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of nature. The gentle breeze rustling the surrounding trees. The snorts of the surrounding hippos. I took a few deep breaths and tried to remember the last time I had smelled air so clean. Maybe when Pops took us on summer drives around his house in the country, too many years ago.

  I opened my eyes and marveled at the clarity of the night. The land below me basked in the light of the full moon. I looked up and watched the twinkling stars. A shooting star shot past and I made a wish. The one that was lingering in my mind while I tried to pretend this was relaxing. That I’d make it through the night alive.

  What was I thinking coming out here by myself? Pride. Stubbornness. Stupidity. Even if Dr. Higgins hadn’t died, by the hand of hyenas or by a person, I would have been scared here by myself. Miles away from anyone, who could relax? Even with Charlotte, I don’t think I would have enjoyed this. But others must enjoy this solitude, because the lodge charged a lot of money for the experience. The travel agent had been immensely excited when the lodge threw it in at no charge.

  I climbed into bed, pulling the netting securely behind me. Fully clothed and laying on top of the covers, I told myself it was time to sleep. A bug—who knows what it was, other than ugly and scary—flew into the netting and latched on. A few of his friends joined him and I missed the four walls that should surround me when I sleep.

  Looking to my left, I saw the phone and the walkie-talkie on the night table. Close but not close enough. I tapped the mosquito netting a few times and the bugs flew away. I reached out of the netting and grabbed the phone and the walkie-talkie. On the lower shelf, I saw a flashlight. I grabbed that too and closed the netting before anything could fly in.

  Lying in the middle of the bed, I pulled the phone and walkie-talkie close to my side. The flashlight I clutched at my chest.

  Adrenaline—or fear?—had me wide awake. The winds started to pick up, causing the lit lanterns to sway. I wondered how secure they were. Could they fall and set the treehouse on fire?

  I looked at the phone and thought about ca
lling reception to ask. They probably had a pool going for how long I’d be out here before I called for help. I considered taking the lanterns down but figured that would only get them closer to the wood floor, which the flames could ignite. Another gust of wind shook the lanterns.

  I wondered if a storm was coming. What would I do if it rained? The mosquito netting wouldn’t keep me dry. Or worse, what would I do if there was a thunderstorm? Trees were lightning rods and I was among the tallest target in the area.

  I’d arrived here thinking the killer on the loose was my biggest concern. Now, nature was after me too.

  In just twenty minutes, I had envisioned my death via fire, lightning strike, huge disgusting insects smothering me, wild animal, and of course, by the hand of the killer on the loose.

  I surveyed the sky and decided I didn’t think a storm was brewing. I scratched death by lightning off my list. I started to get out of bed to blow out the lanterns and check off death by fire from my mental list of fears.

  But then I’d be left in the dark, the only light being the moon. I also didn’t want to open the netting again. Many different types of bugs were now collecting on the outside of the netting. An entomologist’s dream and my nightmare. I did not want to open that netting again for fear a bug, or all of them, would enter. Then where would I sleep?

  None of the options sounded good and I looked at the phone again.

  I bet Charlotte had started a pool with the fellow travelers. She’d probably started it the moment I left for the room. Her wager would have been I wouldn’t have gone at all, the rest betting at various times I’d call the lodge for help. I doubt anyone had me making it through the night.

  Except me.

  I dozed until I felt something gently shake the treehouse. I felt it again. It was on this floor. Very soft but perceptible.

  It was the killer. He, or she, had come to get me. He must have overheard me talking to Charlotte, must have seen me sneaking out of Dr. Higgins room, must have seen me observing them and trying to decipher who the killer was.