The Crocodile's Last Embrace
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1 - KENYA COLONY, February 1921
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
AUTHOR’S NOTES
“A larger-than-life heroine far ahead of her time.”
—The Denver Post
Praise for the Jade del Cameron Mysteries
Treasure of the Golden Cheetah
“Suzanne Arruda brings the flavor and flare of the golden era of silent movies and colonial Africa into each scene and chapter. This book is certainly a page-turner.”
—Wichita Falls Times Record News
“Cinematic in its descriptions of Africa, compelling in plot—this is a true whodunit—and skilled in characterization, Treasure of the Golden Cheetah is the best so far of an outstanding series. And Arruda’s cliff-hanging ending will have readers yearning for the quick appearance of Jade’s next adventure.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“What an adventure! Jade is one strong, savvy woman, and her cheetah sidekick, Biscuit, makes a striking companion. If you like excitement, romance, and exotic locales, this book will spirit you away.”
—Sandi Ault, author of the Wild Mystery Series
The Leopard’s Prey
“Melds [Isak] Dinesen’s evocation of a bygone Africa with [Agatha] Christie’s ability to fashion a sharp whodunit. . . . Arruda writes with flair, creates an intriguing puzzle, and plays fair with clues. But the main attraction of this series is Jade herself—sometimes reckless, never feckless.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“Great characters, careful plotting, and an unusually beautiful depiction of Africa.”
—Library Journal
“A lively mystery adventure with a strong sense of both its historical period and its exotic locale.”
—Kirkus Reviews
The Serpent’s Daughter
“[A] rollicking tale of adventure and suspense . . . stellar.”
—Library Journal
“Captivating . . . Jade’s escapades should appeal to fans of Elizabeth Peters’s Amelia Peabody series or the Indiana Jones movies.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Jade del Cameron . . . is closer to Indiana Jones than Miss Marple in a book that is part adventure story, part mystery, part travelogue—and overall a rattling good read.”
—Rhys Bowen, author of Royal Blood
Stalking Ivory
“Suzanne Arruda is fast creating her own unique and popular niche in mystery fiction. With deep research and rich imagination, she gives us Africa in the 1920s and a bold new heroine in Jade del Cameron. This is a series that deserves a long life.”
—New York Times bestselling author Nancy Pickard
“The resilient Jade will charm readers as she asserts her independence in rugged Africa.”
—Publishers Weekly
“British East Africa is the seductive setting of this sequel to the author’s exuberant debut, Mark of the Lion. . . . Like its predecessor, this book is deliberately over the top, and great fun to read.”
—The Denver Post
“Another top-notch mystery. . . . Fans of Ernest Hemingway and Agatha Christie alike will find this second tale of Jade’s exploits a ripping good yarn.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
Mark of the Lion
“Mark of the Lion sweeps the reader along with an irresistible narrative and literary drive. If you’re looking for a fresh new mystery series, a vivid historical setting, and an especially appealing heroine, look no further. One of the most memorable mystery adventure stories I’ve read in a long time.”
—New York Times bestselling author Douglas Preston
“Jade del Cameron . . . brings new meaning to the word ‘gutsy.’ Vividly portraying the long-ago age of shooting safaris and British stiff-upper-lip attitudes, this novel is filled with appealing characters.”
—The Dallas Morning News
“This debut novel delivers on its unabashedly romantic premise and for good measure throws in a genuine mystery. . . . It’s storytelling in the grand manner, old-fashioned entertainment with a larger-than-life heroine far ahead of her time.”
—The Denver Post
“Mark of the Lion is historical mystery at its best, with a dynamic amateur sleuth and well-drawn supporting cast of quirky characters. First-time author Suzanne Arruda hits the reader with a gripping opening and builds tension, twists, and turns from there . . . a compelling premiere performance.”
—Karen Harper
“There’s something for everyone in this new series debut—mystery, history, adventure, travel, even a bit of romance.”
—Library Journal (Starred Review)
“Arruda’s debut is an enjoyable romp through a colorful place and period in which the heroine has a Douglas-Fairbanks-in-a-split-skirt charm.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“An exciting, well-paced debut.”
—The Philadelphia Inquirer
BOOKS IN THE JADE DEL CAMERON SERIES
Mark of the Lion
Stalking Ivory
The Serpent’s Daughter
The Leopard’s Prey
Treasure of the Golden Cheetah
OBSIDIAN
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Published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, September 2010
Copyright © Suzanne Arruda, 2010
All rights reserved
OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:
Arruda, Suzanne Middendorf, 1954-
The crocodile’s last embrace: a Jade del Cameron mystery/Suzanne Arruda.
p. cm.
“An obsidian mys
tery.”
eISBN : 978-1-101-45996-6
1. Del Cameron, Jade (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Women private investigators—Kenya—
Fiction. 3. Americans—Kenya—Fiction. I.Title.
PS3601.R74C76 2010
813’.6—dc22
2010019147
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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This book is dedicated to Bryan (PNut) Peters and Jeff Scott.
Semper Fidelis and Semper Paratus, gentlemen.
I’m proud of you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MY THANKS TO the Pittsburg State University Axe Library Interlibrary Loan staff for their tireless efforts; Dr. Steve Timme, biology department, Pittsburg State University, and Serita Stevens, coauthor of Book of Poisons, both for their assistance with potential toxins; Dr. John Daley, history department chair, Pittsburg State University, and James Williamson, roving editor for Gun Week, for their advice on firearms; Bryan (PNut) Peters for field-testing a .45-caliber bullet on oak; author and writing buddy Terry (Tessa) McDermid, for her help bouncing ideas; my Border Crimes Chapter of SInC, especially Cami Litchfield for helping me understand con artists; James Arruda, for assistance with early parachutes; Michael Arruda, for the inspired help with the final title; my publicist, Megan Swartz, for all her hard work; my agent, Susan Gleason, and my editor, Ellen Edwards, for their continued belief and efforts in the series; all my family: The Dad, James, Michael, Dave, Nancy, Cynthia, and Emily, for helping me shamelessly promote the books. I especially wish to thank Joe, the greatest husband and webmaster a writer could ever want, for all his help and support; and Wooly Bear for continuing to keep her hairballs off the keyboard.
Any mistakes are my own, despite the best efforts of my excellent instructors.
CHAPTER 1
KENYA COLONY, February 1921
Hunters speak of the dangers of the “Big Five,” the deadliest animals they
encounter in Africa. Lion, buffalo, rhino, elephant, and leopard top the
list. I would add the crocodile and, of course, the human.
—The Traveler
FROM HIS HIDDEN VANTAGE POINT, the man watched the young American woman called Simba Jike. The name fit not only because she moved with the unconscious fluidity and grace of a lioness but because she held herself with a lion’s assurance as well. Only once had he ever seen her truly vulnerable, the day she stood in the deluge of rain at the train depot, watching the American leave her behind. He’d watched, too, recognizing that his opportunity had come.
A slight sound escaped his lips, half sigh, half groan, born of both desire and sorrow.
He’d heard about her and her exploits before he’d ever met her. All the colony talked about her unconventional behavior and attire, and she might have been shunned by Nairobi society but for the approval she’d received from old Lord Colridge and Lord and Lady Dunbury.
Simba Jike in her dusty tan trousers, scuffed boots, khaki shirt, and that worn-out old slouch ranch hat seemed to embody Africa more than the British women in their Paris frocks and flowered straw hats. He’d also heard of her from his lover, who told a different tale. No grudging admiration there, and that was the source of his sorrow.
He could almost feel the strength radiating out of this American, see the pent-up passion. It smoldered inside her, flaring and flashing like green fire from eyes that could be as hard as emeralds or as soft as spring moss. Eyes that inspired desire.
He recalled that passion in his lover, but they’d been apart for so long, his memory was as remote as a real person was from a photograph. And now her passion had flared into anger and hatred. Other men might have freed themselves, moved on, perhaps towards someone like this human lioness, but he was bound to his mistress, tied by want and need and the remnants of love as well as by their past deeds.
When he’d first met this Jade del Cameron he’d expected most of the stories to be exaggerations, embellished tales told by needy people longing to draw everyone’s attention. Instead, he found the tales fell short of the reality, and he’d come to admire her.
That made his job all the more difficult.
He’d been ordered to break her.
THE ANTLER HILT FELT COOL IN HER HAND, the well-polished knobs and curves as familiar to her fingers as a sweetheart’s face. The hilt nicely balanced the length and heft of the blade. In short, the knife promised no surprises, provided the body did its part. It would. She’d practiced often enough and once, years ago, had pinned a rattler that had been menacing her sheepdog.
Her gaze locked on the target, gauging the distance, calculating the number of rotations before the blade struck. She stepped back a half pace and raised her right forearm even with her ear, willing a connection between her vision and her hand. She took a deep breath and dropped her arm on the exhale at the same time that she shifted her weight to her left foot. Her arm shot straight out in front of her, wrist taut, making one perfect line and freezing in position as abruptly as it had moved. As her fingers splayed, the blade spun twice in a graceful somersault like a diver teasing the air before piercing the water.
Jade del Cameron heard the satisfying thunk as the blade bit into the wood and stuck, quivering slightly. A smattering of applause followed.
“Bravo, Jade,” called Beverly Dunbury. “Spot on the bull’s-eye.” The speaker was British, classically lovely with shimmering corn-silk hair, watercolor blue eyes, and the fair complexion generally associated with English ladies. She presented an interesting contrast to Jade, whose olive complexion, short, wavy black hair, and green eyes spoke of her exotic bloodlines.
Beverly nodded towards the target board. “Did you all observe how Lieutenant Jade kept her focus on the target? That’s what you are supposed to do with your sling.”
Lady Dunbury addressed a small herd of eleven girls ranging in age and deportment from three gangly, restless ten-year-olds to a pretty, well-mannered brunette of thirteen. All were dressed in khaki blouses and dark blue serge skirts that came more or less to their knees. Beneath the skirts were dark blue knickers and black woolen stockings. Each had an indigo blue campaign hat held in place with a chin strap. A powder blue neckerchief hung knotted around each neck. Most of the girls had tied additional knots on the dangling ends, a reminder to do the daily good turn. The two oldest girls’ knots were already undone. A brown belt around each waist completed the military uniform of the 1st Nairobi Company Girl Guides, Ivy Leaf Patrol.
To mark their patrol allegiance, an ivy leaf was embroidered on each blouse’s left-front pocket. Mary Postlewaithe, who would turn thirteen in a week, had lobbied extensively for the patrol to adopt a native flower—in particular, the fireball lily. The flower was spectacular, with its globe of hundreds of slender red florets exploding outwards like some aerial fireworks. And Jade had to agree that most of these girls were more like fireballs than the lilies and roses that ha
d also been up for consideration. But in the end, no one could manage to embroider the complex fireball lily flower on her shirt or paint it on a banner without making it look like a squashed bug. Beverly suggested that they adopt the ivy leaf in honor of the 1st London Company.
“Will you teach us how to throw like that, Lieutenant Jade?” asked Helen Butterfield, the oldest girl. The daughter of a recently arrived settler, she boarded at the English school and showed the most interest in outdoor lore.
Jade winced at the title. “Please, Helen, you do not have to address me as lieutenant. I’m only assisting your, er, captain,” she said, casting a sidewise look at Beverly. Her friend wore a simple walking dress of blue cotton serge and a campaign hat similar to the girls’, only Beverly’s hat sported a cock’s feather plume and no chin strap. A whistle hung around her neck from a white lanyard. A Girl Guide was supposed to dress plainly, not call undue attention to herself, which, ironically, was what the uniform did.
Jade had proudly worn a similar skirt-and-trouser uniform as an ambulance driver for the Hackett-Lowther unit during the Great War, but she refused to truss herself up like a soldier now. She’d agreed to help Beverly with the newly founded troop only if she could still wear her usual trousers, white shirt, and boots. It was the knife scabbard on her boot that had started this knife-throwing demonstration.