Treasure of the Golden Cheetah (5 page)

“She’s inside with my wife and Mrs. Thompson,” said Avery. “They took her into a ladies’ room after reviving her.”

They heard another car drive up. “That will be the doctor,” said Finch, rising. He turned to the closest constable. “Go and fetch him. Bring him around here first. We’ll see to this Miss . . . ?” He stopped and looked at Jade.

“Bebe Malta,” she said. “She’s part of a motion picture crew from California. Harry is taking them to Kilimanjaro to film.”

“And you?” Finch asked.

“I’m seconding the safari.”

“Ah,” Finch said, looking at Harry. “You should warn them that she attracts corpses.”

“If you’re implying—” began Sam, his voice low.

Mr. Finch held up his hand in a placating manner. “I’m suggesting nothing of the sort, Featherstone. So kindly do not take a swing at me, as you Americans quaintly put it.”

The doctor, a middle-aged man, arrived and shook hands with Finch. “Dr. Mathews, good to have you back in the colony,” said the inspector. He quickly summarized the events as he’d been given them. “It appears to be an open-and-shut situation, but you will, of course, wish to examine these men yourself. Mr. Wheeler, here, has several smaller cuts on his forearms and face, but it is clearly the stab to the heart that killed him. I will, of course, question this Miss Malta, but I imagine the native attacked her, and Wheeler rushed to her rescue, getting stabbed in the process.”

The doctor knelt beside the bodies and studied them. “This spot on the native’s jaw,” he said, pointing with his pencil, “appears to be a developing bruise, possibly where Mr. Wheeler struck a blow while warding off the knife with his forearms. Finally, he grappled with the man, trying to choke him.” He separated the two bodies and pointed to the native’s neck, where the finger marks showed up as darker impressions on the brown skin. “Unfortunately for our friend, he didn’t debilitate his opponent quickly enough and was stabbed. What I find most odd, though, is why the man should stab himself.” He looked up at Jade. “You say you saw this?”

Jade and Sam both nodded.

“I expect that this man has a record of violence and didn’t care to be captured again,” said Finch.

“Possibly,” murmured the doctor, “but his pupils are quite dilated. Of course, it is dark outside, but still . . . I should like to run some chemical tests on his blood. He may have enhanced his courage with some drug. Note the numerous scratch marks on his chest. Now look at the skin under his nails. He did this to himself.”

Finch agreed and, after a cursory survey of the surrounding area, left the constables to guard the bodies. “Perhaps you had better come with me, Doctor, to see if Miss Malta is uninjured and able to answer my questions.”

“I’m going with you,” said Jade.

Finch gave her a long, appraising look and nodded. “Very well. Come along.”

They found Bebe reclining on a velvet-cushioned settee in the ladies’ parlor. Madeline and Beverly had given her a glass of water and sat perched on chairs near her. The poor woman still trembled and her eyes had a wild, glazed look.

“Thank you, ladies,” said Finch. “I believe you may go now.”

“Certainly not!” declared Beverly. “Miss Malta deserves the courtesy of female protection while she’s being examined and interrogated.” Madeline punctuated her friend’s statement with an emphatic nod.

Finch glanced at Jade, who leaned against the wall, arms folded, and sighed. “I assure you that the lady is in no danger from us, but if it will ease your minds then you may remain. But kindly do not interfere.” He motioned for the doctor to approach.

“Miss Malta,” said the doctor, “I am just going to check your pulse. There is nothing to alarm you. You are quite safe.” He picked up her left hand and felt her wrist with his fingertips.

“He . . . he came at me.”

“Who came at you?” asked Finch. “The native? Or Mr. Wheeler?”

“The native,” said Miss Malta. “Graham and I were . . . were . . .” She blinked as though she was trying to recall what they were doing. “We were talking. Then that man came out of the shadows holding a knife. If Graham hadn’t been there . . .” She shivered again.

“I’ll find a shawl or something,” said Madeline.

“It’s shock,” said the doctor, “but yes, something to keep her warm.” He looked up at Finch. “Inspector, your suit jacket, if you don’t mind.”

Finch frowned, but his hesitation lasted for only a second before he took off his jacket and handed it to the doctor. Jade noted with some amusement that he still wore the same thread-bare brown coat with the frayed cuffs as when she’d first met him last August. He wore no wedding ring, so possibly there was no female Finch to urge him into fresher feathers.

“Can you tell me, Miss Malta, what happened next?” asked Finch. When the woman didn’t respond, he looked pleadingly at Madeline.

Maddy draped the jacket over the prostrate woman like a blanket and stroked her hair. “Please try to tell us, Miss Malta. You’re safe.”

Bebe’s gaze darted wildly around the room.

“The man who attacked you is dead, Bebe,” said Jade. “He can’t hurt you.”

“Graham killed him?” Bebe started to rise up, but Madeline pressed her back down.

“Please, Miss Malta,” said the doctor in his most soothing voice. “I want you to answer this gentleman so that I may get you back to your hotel and give you something to calm your nerves.”

“I don’t know what happened. I remember screaming and watching Graham fighting. He told me to run inside. I did. I can’t recall anything else.”

“Thank you, Miss Malta. That will be all,” said Mr. Finch. He closed his notebook and absentmindedly tried to slip it into his jacket pocket before realizing that he wore no jacket.

“I’ll get some of the crew to escort her to a car, Doctor,” said Jade. “They can drive her to her hotel and you can follow her there.”

Dr. Mathews nodded and Jade went out the door. She immediately bumped into Sam, Avery, Harry, and Neville holding back a crowd of people all speaking at once.

“I demand to know what’s happening!”

“Where’s Bebe? Is she all right?”

“The police won’t let us outside. Is it true that someone was killed?”

“Where’s Wheeler?”

“I’m from
The Leader
. Can I get your story of what happened?”

Saint Peter’s bait bucket! A reporter.
Jade held up her hands for silence and, when that didn’t work, shouted, “Be quiet!” When the din died down, she continued. “Miss Malta is uninjured but in need of rest. And no,” she added, glaring at the reporter, “I do not care to talk to you.” She stuck her head back inside the parlor. “Inspector, I think you need to come out here.”

Both Finch and Dr. Mathews stepped out.

“There’s a reporter here, Inspector,” said Jade. “We can’t send Miss Malta back to the hotel alone. He’ll be after her like a buzzard on a ripe carcass.”

“I’ll take her to the hospital with me,” said Dr. Mathews. “
After
these people leave.”

“Did you see or hear
anyone
else outside when you and Featherstone witnessed the end of the attack?” Finch asked Jade.

“No,” she and Sam replied in unison.

“Then there’s no need to keep all these people,” Finch said. He raised his voice above the rising din. “Anyone who has something that bears on this incident must stay. Everyone else must leave.” No one moved towards the doors. “Or be arrested for violation of police orders.”

Suddenly most of the crowd surged towards the front doors, the back ones still under guard by a solitary constable. Jade saw that the actors and the director, as well as their principal assistants, held back.

“All of you have something to say?” asked the inspector once everyone else had gone. He flipped open his notebook. No one spoke. “Then why are you still here?”

A short man with a bulbous nose and curly brown hair spoke up, his strong voice booming. “I’m Rex Julian, Detective.”

“Inspector.”

“Inspector, then.
I’m
the director. No one has told us what happened to Wheeler. He’s our producer. We need to know how badly he’s injured.”

Finch passed a hand over his brow. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Mr. Wheeler was stabbed to death in an attack on himself and Miss Malta.”

Murmurs of disbelief and shock followed the announcement. The only person who didn’t speak was Cynthia Porter. Jade detected a fleeting touch of shock when the woman’s eyes widened and her lips tightened. Then the mood passed and left a blank mask.

“Poor Graham,” said Miss Zagar. “What are we going to do, Rex? We’re still shooting the picture, aren’t we?”

“I’m not sure,” said Julian. “The costumes and supplies are all paid for, but there are our guides to pay, the porters, and then there’re the costs of editing and advertising and—”

“We don’t have the money,” said Otto Dimwald, the producer’s assistant.

The parlor door opened again, and this time Miss Malta stepped out on her own despite Madeline’s and Beverly’s entreaties to remain inside. She no longer had the inspector’s jacket covering her, and her beautiful gown was streaked with blood, the bodice rose torn and hanging by a thread. The other women blanched visibly. Mr. Wells hurried over to take Miss Malta’s hand.

“We have to shoot this movie, Rex,” said a slender, carrot-topped young man Jade recognized as Woodrow Murdock. “Too many of us need this picture.”

Pearl Zagar emphasized that remark by taking hold of the director’s arm and gazing pleadingly into his eyes, her bosom heaving dramatically. “Woody is right, Rex.”

“I don’t disagree,” said Julian, patting Pearl’s hand, “but unless you are all willing and able to front the rest of the money, I don’t see how—”

“I’ll take over the production costs.” The room went silent as everyone turned to the speaker, Cynthia Porter. “Of course, I intend to make it all back and receive the same shares that Graham would have gotten.”

“Cynthia,” protested Hall, “how can you afford it? Graham had some backers, but they’ll pull out once they know he’s dead.”

“No, they won’t,” she said. “I’m his wife.”

A dull thud and Madeline’s soft gasp shifted everyone’s attention to the parlor door. Bebe Malta had fainted again.

CHAPTER 4

It’s nice that there’s already a train to get you there.
—The Traveler

DR. MATHEWS PATTED BEBE’S HAND, BEVERLY APPLIED A DAMP towel to the woman’s forehead, and Madeline massaged her feet. Jade left them to it and turned her attention back to Cynthia Porter and the renewed discussion. The actors talked at once, but the director’s booming voice cut through them all.

“You’re his wife? Why wasn’t I told?”

“Because, Rex, we didn’t tell anyone. Once you tell one person, it’s no longer a secret,” Cynthia said. “We felt it was better for my career if we pretended to be single. We even kept separate homes, although we didn’t always live in one of them.” Her lips twitched. Jade couldn’t tell if it was an attempt to hold back a sob or a smile.

Julian turned to the producer’s assistant. “Did you know about this, Otto?”

Dimwald shook his head. “Yes. I mean no, Rex. I mean, I saw Graham with Cynthia often enough, but I just thought she was his . . .” He blushed. “Graham was always popular with the ladies.” He glanced in Bebe’s direction, then quickly looked away.

Prentiss McAvy, an older and rugged-looking actor with a touch of white mixed in his sandy blond hair, chuckled. Jade saw him nudge Murdock. McAvy nodded towards Bebe and then Cynthia with a leer. Apparently he thought that the producer had become friendly with more than one woman at a time. What had she gotten herself into? Jade wondered. Didn’t any of these people care that someone they knew, some apparently more intimately than others, had been brutally murdered?

“Poor Graham and poor Cynthia,” said Pearl, reaching for the woman’s hand. “I hope Cynthia’s announcement fixes your decision, Rex.” Her voice was hushed and breathy. “Graham would have wanted us to carry on, and at the risk of sounding callous, I need this picture.”

Jade heard someone approach and saw Harry standing at her right.

“Remember, Jade, these women are
your
responsibility,” he said softly. “And may I say,” he added, “that you look as beautiful as ever? That fool Featherstone had better declare for you soon or I’m—”

Jade silenced him with a scowl. She groaned inwardly and, to her left, saw Sam watching her. Why, she wondered, did everything always turn out to be so complicated?

“Stunned as I am to hear Cynthia’s news, I’m also relieved,” said Julian. “As soon as the proper arrangements can be made for our late friend, we’ll proceed as planned.” He stopped suddenly and looked at Cynthia. “That is, unless you wish to return to the States with your husband’s body.”