The Leopard's Prey Part 11

Ladies posed and glided in straight sleeveless gowns of wispy tulle, silk, and satin. The older ladies chose darker hues of black, violet, or midnight blue. Younger women, or those pretending to be, opted for pastels in peach, green, rose, or dainty blue. Jade wore the same apricot gown that Beverly had given her last year. Its style was one year behind the times, but she didn't care. Madeline, a bit more fas.h.i.+on conscious, had once again remade her blue gown by loosening the waist so it hung straight, as was the current vogue.

Both Neville and Sam looked dapper, albeit uncomfortable, in their black ties, stiff collars, and black dinner jackets. Several of the younger men, Mr. Holly included, sported midnight blue jackets, reported to be the latest in men's fas.h.i.+on.

The Thompsons had brought their journals to the house. Jade had read them, but neither had had anything new to add. Jade had hoped to share what information they'd garnered during the day, but Madeline, giddy over her blue-ribbon roses and exuberant about the prospects of adopting a child, could talk of nothing else. Even Neville was elated enough by his blue ribbon coffee that his partially dismantled coffee dryer didn't disturb him. They had money from Maddy's books and the prospect of higher pay for their crop, and both trusted that Inspector Finch would soon return the dryer door to them.

The Thompsons had arrived at Jade's door around midday, shortly after she returned to Parklands, and by the time Sam got there, Maddy had Jade shut away in a back room helping her make last-minute alterations to her old gown. With one or another in the bath or dressing, there was no opportunity for Sam and Jade to swap news. Then Madeline insisted on sitting in the back of the car with Jade to talk about building a nursery onto their house, and Neville drove them all to the dance. And now, when Jade hoped finally to hear from Sam, they discovered that any semblance of serious conversation was impossible over the noise from the dance floor.

Not that Sam particularly wanted to dance. He found it impossible to keep up with the fast fox-trot, Peabody, or turkey trot tempos, which were primarily what the dancers clamored for, along with ragtime and jazz. The more sedate castle walk and waltz, both of which Sam managed very gracefully, were rare, and as soon as Jade and he moved back off the dance floor, some man grabbed Jade's hand and whisked her out onto the floor without even asking if she wanted to dance. This last time, it was Cutter who held Jade in a bear hug, leaning in close and pumping her right arm up and down in tune with Loving Sam, the Sheik from Alabam, a popular stateside song. At least he'd changed his shoes, so he didn't smell too much from polecat. Jade saw Sam scowl and move off to the corner, his arms folded across his chest. She also spied Inspector Finch, in evening attire, watching from near the punch bowl.

When the band finished, Jade thanked Cutter for the dance but declined another and hurried off the floor before anyone else could grab her. Stand by the food and act like you're eating. She shoved a finger sandwich in her mouth, as the band struck up "Choo Choo," grabbed another, and looked around for Sam. She didn't see him anywhere. She did spot Pauline Berryhill and hurried over to her just as Anderson turned in her direction.

"Mrs. Berryhill, how are you enjoying the dance?"

The woman might have been sucking lemons for her grimace. "It's amusing if you care for this sort of thing." She smoothed the skirt of her plain indigo dress. A single locket on a gold chain relieved the austerity of the bodice's narrow pleating. It was not a homely dress, per se. "Dignified" was the word that came to Jade's mind, and to an extent, it became Mrs. Berryhill. "I really cannot be staying long though. I have offered to make some of the deliveries myself tomorrow. Winston deplores driving."

"Deliveries on a Sunday," said Jade. "That's very dutiful of you."

"It's practical," replied Mrs. Berryhill. "The store will be closed then, so I am not needed behind the counter."

Jade set the uneaten sandwich in her hand on a nearby empty tray set aside for used punch cups and champagne flutes. "Mrs. Berryhill, I'd like to talk to you about Mrs. Stokes' child."

Mrs. Berryhill raised her chin and pulled back her head. "I'll not spread any gossip about that innocent creature."

For some reason Jade wondered if she meant the child or Mrs. Stokes. She decided it didn't matter and pressed on. She already felt that Mrs. Berryhill knew more than she was letting on. "I'm not looking for gossip. Good friends of mine, Madeline and Neville Thompson, wanted to give a baby a home. They answered an ad to adopt a four-month-old baby boy the day after it was first published. Later I learned that Mrs. Stokes had a baby boy that age. I'm not one to believe in coincidences, so I think they were the same baby. The baby was already taken, Madeline was devastated, and I think she deserves some explanation as to how that child in the ad managed to get adopted so quickly."

Jade waited a moment while all this registered in Mrs. Berryhill's mind. Then she added more gently, "You placed that ad, didn't you, Mrs. Berryhill?" Jade found that direct statements often got better results than questions. She wasn't disappointed.

The woman nodded. "Yes." She fidgeted with the locket a moment, then tugged at her dress bodice. "I'm sure you can see that the child needed a decent home."

"You seem to be the only person who knew Alice Stokes or cared about her, Mrs. Berryhill. When did she leave? Where did she go?"

Mrs. Berryhill toyed with the locket and looked everywhere but at Jade. "I don't know when or where she went. I just know she made plans. You see," she explained, meeting Jade's eyes, "I knew when her husband would be away on his calls. Most of those times I couldn't leave the store, but on a few occasions, I could see her, make certain she was all right. I'm the one who brought the doctor, or she'd have delivered that baby on her own." Mrs. Berryhill glanced away again. "Then not long ago, my husband and I found her baby in a crate in back of the store."

"Why do you suppose she left her child behind?"

"Secrecy, I suppose," said Mrs. Berryhill. "If she disguised herself, she could probably board a train and not be noticed as she would with an infant."

"So you don't believe Mrs. Stokes is coming back?" asked Jade. Mrs. Berryhill shook her head. "Who adopted the boy and how did they manage to get him so quickly?" Seeing the woman's hesitation, Jade added, "Please, it would help my friend if she knew the child went to a loving home."

Again, the woman played with her locket. "There was a . . . farmwife. From up north. She was in town getting supplies and took the child straightaway." Mrs. Berryhill raised her chin again, as if defying Jade to contradict her.

"She replied to the newspaper office right after reading the ad?" Jade couldn't keep the skepticism from her voice. According to the secretary, no one had applied to the paper.

"Well . . . no. She came to the store and saw the baby. She admired it. Said she wanted one herself. So I let her take him."

"You gave the baby to a total stranger?"

"Of course not! I've done business with this woman before. Not often, but enough. You may a.s.sure Mrs. Thompson that this lady is a clean-living, decent woman."

"Thank you, Mrs. Berryhill. This will certainly help my friend."

"You're welcome, I'm sure," said Mrs. Berryhill. "Now if you'll excuse me, it is getting late. I must find my husband and be going home."

Jade watched her leave just as the band struck up "Broad-way Crawl," and Anderson appeared at her elbow.

"How 'bout we share this dance, Jade?" he asked.

Jade didn't see Sam or the Thompsons anywhere, but she did spy Mr. Holly weaving uncertainly in her direction. While she really wanted to find her friends, she decided it would be rude to outright reject Wayne. After all, she did need to work with him, and it was just a dance. Better to dance with him than to deal with Holly again. Besides, she wanted to ask him about his earlier statement.

"Certainly," she said. Wayne took her right hand and pulled her close for a fox-trot. He wasn't a bad dancer, but Jade didn't like to be held so close. She slid her left hand to the front of his shoulder to give herself a little more breathing room.

"I'm curious as to why you felt the need to warn me about Sam," she said. "He didn't kill anyone."

"Hasn't that inspector told you? Featherstone was spotted giving that Stokes guy a wallop to the jaw."

"Really? I'm not sure I believe that, and anyway, it doesn't prove that Sam killed him."

"Makes him dangerous in my book. I think you should steer clear of him, that's all. Guys like that can blow up pretty quickly once they get in a lather."

"Guys like what? Do you mean pilots? Is that why you dislike Sam so much?"

"Hey, I'm no apple knocker," he said, referring to an unworldly country b.u.mpkin. "I've been in Chicago a long time. I've seen some characters."

"I'm sure you have, but you're wrong about Sam."

The song ended; Jade thanked Wayne for the dance and excused herself to find her friends. Where the blazes is Madeline? Jade saw her on the far side talking to a pretty young woman barely out of her teens. Neville and Sam were near the bar having a drink. Luckily, the orchestra announced it would take a brief respite, which meant no one would tug her onto the dance floor in the next fifteen minutes. As Jade made her way to Madeline, she studied the room. Jade had to hand it to the New Stanley Hotel for hiring and training efficient staff. The five white-gloved waiters, all native Africans, were busy taking gla.s.ses from people as soon as the gla.s.s was empty. The overall effect was immaculate without the usual party residue. Shame they can't move some of these people out of my way. After several "pardon me's" Jade arrived just as the girl left.

"There you are, Jade. I was looking for you," said Madeline. Neville and Sam joined them. "I wanted you to meet that nice girl. I had the most interesting conversation with her." All male eyes turned to the departing young woman in her very modern, low-cut dress of green taffeta with puffy tulle sashes at each hip. The entire dress was held up by two thin straps.

"She's a 'h.e.l.lo girl,' " said Madeline.

"I can see that," said Sam to no one in particular.

Jade tossed a sidelong look at him, but he was still staring after the girl. "What was this conversation about, Maddy?" she asked.

"She overheard me speak to Mrs. Palmer about Mrs. Stokes' disappearance. Everyone talks of it, but no one knows anything. n.o.body really knew the woman at all. So, Nancy-that's her name-she approached me and said she had an idea about who placed the ad looking for her."

"How did she find that out?" asked Neville.

"She overhears a great many things in her line of work," replied Maddy.

"I can imagine," said Sam.

Jade, impatient, urged Madeline on. "What did she say?"

"Well, she's very good at recognizing voices, and she said this man had a high-pitched, reedy one. She thought it sounded like Alwyn Chalmers."

"She didn't see him?" asked Sam.

Maddy shook her head. "No. Why would she?"

Sam scratched his head and stammered a bit. "Well, it just seems . . . I mean, I would a.s.sume. . . ." He shook his head. "But I'm surprised at you, Maddy, talking to her."

Madeline opened her eyes wider and placed a hand on her chest. "Why shouldn't I? Of course there is a difference in our ages, but she seemed very polite and nice."

"But, Madeline . . . ," sputtered Sam. He turned to Neville. "Surely you don't approve of your wife chatting with her?"

Neville drained his scotch and soda and shrugged. "Spoken with her myself several times."

"Sam," said Jade, "I think you're confused. The t.i.tle 'h.e.l.lo girl' is just a cute name for the telephone operators."

Sam blinked twice, slowly, like a startled owl. "A telephone operator?"

"Of course," said Madeline. "Because they always say 'h.e.l.lo' when you place a call. What did you think she was?"

"Never mind," muttered Sam, red faced.

Neville chuckled. "Very good. Very good, indeed."

Madeline, still confused, looked to Jade for an explanation. Jade leaned in closer and whispered, "He thought she was a woman of ill repute, a streetwalker."

Madeline's hand flew to her open mouth; then she giggled. "Oh! h.e.l.looooo," she said.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Honest mistake. Sorry."

Jade smiled and turned the conversation back to the more important revelation. "That's really very intriguing, Maddy. Why would Chalmers place an ad to find information about Mrs. Stokes?" No one had an answer to that, but thinking of Chalmers made Jade recall the leopard cubs and, consequently, her job. "By the way, I think we're collecting Percy and the zebra tomorrow afternoon."

Neville nodded. "Good."

"Perkins hired me to fly over close to the Maasai reserve to scout for a young rhino," said Sam. "I'm going up early Monday morning. Will you come along, Jade?"

"Yes, as long as Perkins doesn't need me." She saw the orchestra members return to their seats and pick up their instruments. Soon talking wouldn't be possible. "Quickly, before they start up: I learned that Stokes drowned in some animal dip after being hit. They found a.r.s.enic traces in his lungs. Did anyone else discover something?"

"I just reported my news," said Maddy.

Neville shook his head.

"Stokes may have been blackmailing someone," said Sam. "That's according to the Berryhill kid and another man, a Mr. Griswell. Neither would be more explicit, though, which makes me suspect that Griswell, at least, was being blackmailed. Other than that, I overheard a lot of men rehash the same material we've all heard before: good football player, solid in cricket, but nothing much about him personally. I got the distinct impression that one old man, Lord Colridge, knew a lot about everyone else but kept his cards close."

"You met Lord Colridge?" asked Jade.

"I filmed him," said Sam. The orchestra tuned their instruments in the background. "You know him?"

"I met him when I first came to Africa," said Jade. "He took me along on that hunt for the man-eating hyena."

Sam nodded. "He seemed fond of you two," he said to Neville and Madeline. "Once he knew I was your friend, he was tickled pink to let me film him." He still held his empty scotch gla.s.s and looked around for a place to deposit it. There were no trays or waiters nearby. Sam nudged Neville and pointed to a distant tray by the back wall, then to himself.

By now the orchestra had jumped into "Oh, by Jingo" and the couples took to the floor. Further serious conversation was at an end as everyone else around them practically shouted to be heard over the music. Jade motioned to the door. "Shall we leave?"

Maddy nodded. "I agree, don't you, Neville?"

"What?" Neville asked over the noise.

"We want to leave," repeated Madeline.

"Fine," said Neville.

Jade looked around. "Where's Sam?"

"He went to put his gla.s.s down over there." Neville pointed to the back wall, but there was no Sam nearby. "Where did he go?"

"I don't see him anywhere," said Jade as she stood on tip-toe and turned a slow, complete circle, scanning the room.

They each searched the ballroom, looking for Sam, but after fifteen minutes, they still hadn't found him. Cutter stopped Jade as she was about to look outside, and asked her for the next dance.

"I'm sorry, Frank, but I was about to leave as soon as I found my friend."

"Are you looking for that pilot fellow?"

"Yes, Sam Featherstone. Have you seen him recently?"

Cutter nodded. "Saw him go out the back way with some man ten minutes ago."

Jade thanked him, grabbed Maddy and Neville, and headed for the back door. But when they went outside, all they saw was the empty alleyway.

CHAPTER 9.

Lions are the scourge of the Maasai herds. A warrior is insulted by a lion

boldly roaring by the kraal at night. But as long as a lion still eats raw meat

instead of roasted like a man, he cannot challenge a Maasai.