A Delicious Mistake Page 3

  Dread sunk heavier and heavier in Benjamin’s chest as the hours went by and they found no sign of Luke. Benjamin had taken young Thomas and four more men with him, instructing the youngest ranger to guide him to the area where Luke and Thomas had found the pitfall trap the previous day. Benjamin’s stomach cramped when he caught sight of Luke’s Jeep. Luke, however, was nowhere to be found.

  Getting out of his own Jeep, Benjamin ordered, “Let’s scout the area.”

  Splitting up was probably not the smartest idea, but it would allow them to cover more terrain more quickly. God forbid if Luke was hurt, they had no time to waste. As Benjamin headed off into the night he thought that, for the first time, the darkness seemed so unmerciful. He forced himself not to think the worst. He simply could not go down that road—the possibility was just too horrible to contemplate.

  He and Luke had faced adversity every day, and had come out of it with no harm. Going into dangerous places was a requirement of the job, a way of life that they had both accepted and settled into. They had experienced some awfully close calls, too. One time, they had gotten involved in a shoot out with a far too daring group of poachers. Benjamin would never forget the overwhelming relief he had felt when he had finally come down from the high of adrenaline and he realized just how close they had come to death. He had counted his blessings that day that they had both made it out alive. They had also managed to wound and capture several of the poachers. Others had escaped, however, and that made their feat just not enough.

  As Benjamin trudged through the grass of the savannah he thought back to that day. He prayed with all his heart that this time Luke would somehow make it out of whatever trouble he had gotten himself into. He thought that at times the man seemed to attract mishaps like honey attracted flies, but he had always manage to somehow escape unscathed. He thought back to the day that a very young Luke had found a lion wandering too near the Game Lodge. Benjamin had gone out to see Luke facing a lion with nothing more than a stick in his hands. Now he wondered if a lion had found Luke—a hungry one. Or had Luke fallen and hurt himself? A broken leg out here could prove deadly. Ah, but Luke had a radio on him—he must have remembered to keep an extra battery with him, too. So what had gone wrong? Why had he not called for help if he needed it? It had to be that Luke was just following a trail and clues and had lost track of time.

  But Benjamin couldn’t shake the feeling that this time would be different from all those other times. He forced himself not to think about that. Luke was all right. He had to be.

  The search went on all night. It covered miles but Benjamin would not let anyone stop or rest. They had to find Luke—and they would find him alive. But of all the times he had ever been wrong in his life, he would remember this one above all others. Tired, fatigue heavy on his shoulders, and his legs cramping, Benjamin met the other four men of his search party back at the spot where the pitfall trap had been dismantled by Thomas and Luke the day before. Benjamin glanced around. Everyone had come back with hands as empty as his. They gathered around the Jeep to discuss where to go next—where might they find Luke if not with his Jeep? The two-way radio crackled. Benjamin swung around. It was the most ominous sound he had ever heard in his life and he knew it would remain etched into his ears until the day he died. He stiffened, for he knew what he would hear next—knew and did not want the words to come. But they did.

  As the blood-red sun rose over the Serengeti, news of blood came. Luke Hutton had been found. Dead.

  * * *

  Jason Keita, the fifteen-year old son of Jim Keita, one of the long-time Hutton Game Lodge Rangers, found Luke’s body lying in a crumpled heap by the muddy stream of a river. He was lying halfway in the water. It was all too obvious he hadn’t drowned. It was equally obvious he had not been killed by an animal, although whoever had murdered him had tried to make it look so. His left arm was missing and a deep gash slashed his neck, so broad that his head was only partly still attached to his body. It was a gruesome discovery. Something had happened to Luke. Everyone knew and expected that something to be bad, but no one expected to find his horribly mutilated body. That shook Benjamin to his core.

  At the beginning, Benjamin blamed shock for what happened next. It seemed like a dream—a nightmare. Soon enough he began to realize it was truly happening. The Nkorula Lapa Police Department set up an investigation right away. The Huttons were well known and although the police hadn’t wanted to help the Game Lodge’s staff in their battle against poaching, they were quick to look into Luke Hutton’s death.

  The police decided the murder had to be racially related. Someone had seen a black man in the area where Luke’s body had been found—a black man driving fast in a Jeep. He was thought to be responsible for Luke’s death. But this was North Africa and most everyone was black. Still, suspicion fell onto Benjamin Ndlovo. He was, after all, the very last person to see Luke Hutton alive.

  Benjamin could understand the suspicion. The last person to see a homicide victim alive would become the primary suspect until better leads were found. What he couldn’t understand was most of the locals sharing the same thought. He guessed that maybe there wasn’t much room for any alternative, but it still stunned him and added to his already bone-crushing, soul-shattering pain.

  But he forced some lucidity onto himself. He had to think as clearly as possible. Evidence wasn’t really in his favor. But he wanted the real killer caught.

  The police had begun to gather statements. Several tourists who had been located attested to seeing both men drive past during the afternoon of that ill-fated day. Two of the tourists reported that the two men in the Jeep seemed cold to each other, as if they had just fought. Benjamin couldn’t understand this. What—should he have been grinning and smiling as he and Luke talked about catching poachers? The old rumors came back again—that Benjamin had been in love once with Luke’s younger sister and Luke had taken his sister away from Africa to keep her away from a black man. Those rumors left Benjamin’s jaw tight and his chest aching, for there was some truth in it. He had adored young Sarah. He could not deny that.

  Furthermore, the police found no sign of poachers having been anywhere close to the area where Luke’s body had been found. The investigators wondered why Benjamin had let Luke go off alone, given the potential threat he might face. The people Benjamin had spoken to that day vanished and would not come forward to say they had seen him and spoken to him. Upon being questioned, a few workers at the Hutton Game Lodge reluctantly had to admit they had warned Benjamin about the chance that poachers might be headed into the area that he normally surveyed with Luke.

  The burning question Benjamin kept hearing over and over was did Luke Hutton walk into some kind of ambush? Or was there a simple explanation, one that hit much closer to home than anyone might think? What if a supposed friend had lured Luke to his death, killed him, and tried to make it look an animal attack?

  Benjamin knew that question had burned itself into the minds of most members of the community. He could hardly believe that anyone who wasn’t with the police would think along those lines, and he cursed the complete lack of secrecy in Tanzania. Everyone knew everything about everyone. Police investigations should remain a private affair until any suspects, or as he thought in this case, the suspect, was arrested. But not here. In this little community of his everyone knew he had become Suspect Number One.

  How could anybody think he could murder his brother? Didn’t they know just how much he had loved Luke? Couldn’t they see how deep their bond ran? Hadn’t the eldest members of the Game Farm’s staff and of the town’s community watched the two of them grow up together and become brothers? But some whispered of how brother had killed brother before, starting with Cain and Able. Brotherly love sometimes came with jealousy when one man owned a great deal of land and the other man only worked for the rich, white man.

  Benjamin endured the police questioning and the sideways glances. Nobody dared to speak their suspicions aloud, but whispers ra
n behind his back, and fingers pointed when they thought he wasn’t looking. It was all too surreal, too heartbreaking. Benjamin didn’t fear arrest. He would welcome that, for it would give him a chance to prove he had done nothing wrong. But he wanted the police to catch the real killer. He wanted them to search for proof that poachers had done this, for he knew that must be the truth. But the police did nothing more other than to ask questions and more questions and get nowhere. Benjamin burned with the injustice, and he kept his silence. For while he didn’t fear the police, he feared the murder of Luke Hutton would go unpunished.

  The Police were stumbling around in the dark. They had nothing to go on. He had nothing. But Benjamin knew he had to find something. Whoever had done this had to be brought to justice. He had no idea how to do it, and God knew he needed to lay low until things calmed down enough for him and his reputation to become clean again. Or perhaps the murderer would grow bold and careless and would say something to the wrong person. But that would take time.

  He hated this, this waiting and idleness. As if the whole horrible affair wasn’t unfair enough, he was forced to do nothing. His blood boiled. His chest hurt. Almost a week slipped by since the gruesome discovery that had changed his life forever, and in that week he barely slept. He spent the days driving what had been Luke’s favorite Jeep around the terrains, blindly, as his thoughts whirled. If there were any threats to be seen, he missed them completely. Luckily, though, after the murder the poachers were also laying low.

  Sometimes he’d bring Thomas with him. He was a South African twenty-year old who had dreamed of living on the Serengeti ever since he was a small child. Luke hadn’t thought twice about hiring him a year and a half ago when Thomas had come looking for a job. He didn’t care that the boy was inexperienced. Luke had seen the same love for the land shining in Thomas’ hazel eyes that also burned in his heart, and that had been more than enough for him to instantly make the decision. Thomas seemed to be the only one who didn’t suspect Benjamin. At least, he hadn’t given off any hints that he did.

  Then one morning as they drove along the treacherous ground of the plains, Thomas said, “I don’t think you killed him.”

  Gripping the wheel tighter, Benjamin shot the young man a sideways glance.

  Thomas shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. “I…uh…I just…it needed to be said.”

  “And I needed to hear it,” Benjamin said after a moment. He realized then just how true that was. He desperately needed to hear someone say they did not believe he would ever, could ever kill his brother. “Thank you.” He gave Thomas a glance.

  Thomas nodded and smiled. He relaxed a little. “I want to help you find out who did it. Police have absolutely no idea what the fuck they’re doing. They have no leads, they don’t know where to look or what to look for. They’re not rangers. You can’t go scout the area now, they would see it as…” he hesitated and finished lamely, “…well, you know.”

  “They would see it as a murderer going back to the scene of the crime,” Benjamin said bitterly. He couldn’t believe he even had to utter such a sentence.

  Thomas cringed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “But…” He lifted his chin and tightened his hand into a fist. “I can go.”

  Benjamin hesitated. “I don’t know, Thomas. It may be dangerous. Whoever did this to Luke is still be out there.”

  “Not if it’s Luke that they were looking for. I’ll be careful.”

  So was Luke, Benjamin thought. He sighed. “No, Thomas. I won’t risk losing you, too.”

  “But—?”

  “I said no.” Benjamin cut him off sharply. “End of discussion. Consider it a boss’ order.”

  Thomas scowled, but he didn’t say anything. Benjamin could only hope the stubborn youth would listen to him and not go investigating on his own. He wondered, too, how Luke’s family in England was taking the news of Luke’s death. Would this give Luke’s father another stroke? How would this news hit Luke’s mother? And Sarah—Benjamin’s heart stuttered. During their trips to Africa, Sarah had been Luke’s little shadow for so many years. This would break her heart, he knew. Perhaps she would come to Africa for the funeral—Luke had left in his will that he wanted to be buried here in Africa. But with Luke’s father ill, Benjamin didn’t know if the family would be able to make the trip. Luke had been a popular man, well liked, which made his death all the more shocking. But Benjamin wondered if he would he be the only real family mourning beside Luke’s grave. He hated that it might be Luke’s death that brought Sarah back to Africa.

  Chapter Three: Grief and the Grievous

  For the next week, Benjamin’s nights became a frightful sequence of anguished waking and sleeping nightmares. He had no way of knowing what had really happened to Luke—not yet, anyway. His mind came up with ghastly scenarios. The images weren’t particularly vivid, but the sensations were, which made the whole thing even worse than the clearest picture. In his dreams, Benjamin could hear Luke screaming. Luke screamed in fear, but most of all, he screamed in agony. His death must have been like being torn apart—and perhaps he was. It certainly would explain the missing limb, which had eventually been found a couple of miles upstream. Benjamin could smell Luke’s blood, pungent with a copper tang. He could hear the awful thud of the machete as it sunk into Luke’s neck and severed half his head off of his body.

  He woke each night with a start and with the urge to vomit sour in his mouth. His stomach spasmed and his dry throat worked furiously. The bitter taste of bile coated his tongue. Benjamin stumbled out of his cot and made his unsteady way to the basin of water he kept nearby. He splashed lukewarm liquid on his face and tried to get his labored breathing and galloping heart under control. Leaving his hut, he would stand outside his door in the Serengeti night, lost and alone. Dressed only in his favorite kikoi, he let the cool air hit his skin. For the first time in his life it did nothing to clear his mind. He lived in a constant fog of pain and incredulity. He still could not believe what had happened. Who, if not the poachers that had been plaguing the Game Farm’s territories, could want Luke dead?

  Benjamin kept wondering the same thing for longer than he knew. The stars overhead moved, but he had no idea of time. He might have stood there for minutes or hours…not that he cared. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered but Luke and the bone-crushing, soul-shattering pain of his absence. Eventually, Benjamin went back inside his hut and let himself fall back onto his cot. It felt harder than usual—but everything did these days. There was a time when he had called this traditional mud hut his home. These days, it felt more like a foreign country. He had thought he had known devastation before, but nothing compared to this.

  He could only imagine what Luke’s family was going through. Had they even been told? Of course they must have. The police had assured him so and Lindiwele, the cook at the Game Lodge, had confirmed that they had heard the news. But why hadn’t they come back to Tanzania yet? Almost two weeks had gone by, and there had been no sign of any of the Huttons. Perhaps Mr. Hutton was still too sick to travel. But what about a phone call? Perhaps they were too much in shock. Benjamin had looked into organizing a funeral, but the police had told him that Luke’s body could not be released. He could only hope the autopsy that must come with a murder would reveal some clue that would help catch Luke’s killer, some piece of evidence must exist to prove who had murdered Luke.

  Unbidden, Benjamin’s thoughts again traveled to Sarah Hutton, as they did so often these days. The two of them, Sarah and Luke, had been very close, despite having been born a few years apart. The anguish she was undoubtedly experiencing filled Benjamin with even more sorrow. He imagined her in the throes of despair, but even as he did so, he realized he was still picturing a girl’s reaction.

  Sarah had been eleven the last time Benjamin had seen her. That had been the day the Huttons had left Africa for what he had thought would be forever. He remembered a mass of auburn hair, perpetually in knots, wide emerald-green eyes, and a face whose spray of
freckles was almost constantly hidden by smears of mud. She had been a wild one, full of energy and curiosity.

  The memory brought him some comfort. For the first time in days, Benjamin found himself smiling, if weakly. He remembered the day when Luke had confided to him that he had found Sarah’s diary—which Luke had promptly read, of course. What they had found written in those pages had surprised them both. Sarah had written of Benjamin—page after page of notes about him, what he had done, what he had said. It wasn’t hard to read between the lines to see a schoolgirl’s crush, complete with her daydreaming of him noticing her one day. Luke had teased Benjamin mercilessly. And Benjamin had tried to join in the joke, but he had realized with a boy’s pride that he liked having Sarah’s admiration. He had shrugged it off as just a girl’s notion, of course. In those days, he had seen Sarah as little more than his best friend’s kid sister, the perfect target for their boyish pranks. When Luke had found the diary, Benjamin had been nineteen and Luke had been seventeen, and they were both old enough to have sense enough to leave Sarah alone after that and never mention the incident.

  Over the years, he had thought of her. He sometimes wondered whether her feelings for him had persisted in some way. Perhaps he was her exotic fantasy. But he had always dismissed that notion. He had only been a schoolgirl’s crush, nothing more.

  Luke had just turned thirty, which would mean Sarah must be twenty-four, a woman now. She would have the feelings of a woman. She would experience a woman’s grief for her brother. Perhaps she would be strong and composed like many English, suffering silently on the inside. Perhaps she would sob harshly into her pillow at night. Or perhaps she would sob openly in the privacy of her London home, comforted by her girlfriends and her family.