indeed, you’re not.”
“And only a fool would kill someone and then keep the murder weapon in her room. I would have thrown it in the river, for God’s sake.”
“Of course,” Millicent agreed. “And as for your supposed love affair with Louis on board the Queen—”
“There was nothing between me and Louis. I was probably less friendly to him than anyone—except Alex.” Dana leaned her forehead against the bars of her cell. “To make things more confusing, Father Theroux tells me Alex has offered to pay the funeral expenses.”
“Well, obviously, in this heat, the body can’t be returned to Brazzaville.”
“That’s not the point, Millicent. The point is, he’s paying—Alex, who was supposedly Louis’s enemy.” Dana covered her face with her hands. “This is so awful. I can’t even believe the man is dead, much less that I’m accused of killing him! It’s like a terrible nightmare.”
Millicent patted Dana’s hand that grasped the cell bar. “I’m sure things will work out once I get through to the American Embassy,” she said soothingly.
“You haven’t reached them yet?” Dana was dismayed.
“The radio is down on the Congo Queen. Just temporary, I’m sure.”
Dana beat her fists ineffectually against the bars. “What kind of a place is this? No phones, no lawyers, no working radios...”
“It’s the Congo, dear. That’s just the way things are. And you must accept it—at least for a while.”
Dana gave her a hard look. “Not on your life. I’m going to fight like crazy, Millie, and I need your help.”
“You’ll have it, I guarantee. After all, I’m the leader of this tour, and I feel responsible. For everyone,” she added quickly. “Are they treating you well?”
Dana gave a bitter laugh. “Look around. I’m sharing a cell with half the insect life of Central Africa. I’m locked in a space eight feet square with no running water. I’ve only been here a couple of hours, but I can assure you that I’m not being treated well.”
Millicent pushed a bundle through the bars. “I brought you some fresh clothes.”
“Thanks,” Dana said, taking the clothes and tossing them on the cot. She suddenly lost her spunk and felt the tears building. Slowly, they trickled down her cheeks.
“We’ll think of something,” Millicent assured her. “I’ll talk to Kantana.”
“Please,” Dana begged. “Ask him to let me out. Father Theroux says I can come to the mission until the investigation is over. I won’t try to escape,” she said a little pitifully.
“I’m sure you won’t.”
“And when you get through to the embassy, have someone call my brothers in Colorado. Kurt and Andy will fly right over. Do you have something to write on? I’ll give you their numbers.”
Millicent produced a pencil and notebook, and Dana wrote down the information. She had no doubt they’d drop everything and come to Africa as soon as they heard about her plight. Dana and her brothers had become even closer after the death of their parents. Nothing would keep them from helping her.
“Now, what else?” Millicent asked sympathetically. “Father Theroux brought you dinner...”
“Yes, and promises my next meal. Well, I don’t intend to be in here that long.”
“And I’m sure you won’t, my dear.” Millicent offered another pat.
“Meanwhile, Betty has a real hook for her story—’Murder in the Congo, America teacher arrested.’ I can just see it—”
“That slut,” Millicent said emphatically.
Dana did a double take, not believing her ears. Admittedly, Millicent was an outspoken woman, but Dana never had heard such a remark from the Englishwoman’s lips.
“That’s just what she is,” Millicent reinforced.
“I thought you liked her. You invited her on the cruise—”
Millicent waved a dismissive hand. “I ran into her at a party and felt a momentary empathy because she was out of work.”
“Well, she’s working now,” Dana said sarcastically. “Just keep her away from me. I can’t be responsible for what I might do.”
“Admittedly, I made a mistake bringing her on the tour. Her behavior with Yassif has been disgusting.”
Again, Dana was surprised at the emotion in Millicent’s voice. “Hardly to be compared with murder,” she snapped.
Millicent’s eyes brightened behind her thick glasses. “Do you think Betty—”
“No,” Dana said firmly. “There’s only one viable suspect, and that’s Alex.”
Millicent was thoughtful. “I’ve known Alex for a long time, and I understand what he’s capable of. A little larceny here and there, lying when it suits him, womanizing, it goes without saying. But murder—”
Dana felt a burst of anger. “I don’t believe this! No one wants to admit that Alex could be guilty—not you, not Father Theroux, certainly not Kantana. In spite of the fact that the man’s practically a criminal. Whereas everyone immediately assumes I’m guilty when I’m the least likely person in the world to commit murder.”
“But you, my dear girl, are a stranger here.” Millicent’s response, meant to be kind, sent cold chills down Dana’s spine. “The rest of us know one another, our capabilities as well as our frailties, while you are an unknown element. Of course, you’d be an obvious suspect.”
Dana felt sick. She was a stranger in a far-off land—with no one to stand up for her, no one to take her side. “You will help me, won’t you?” she asked in a shaky voice.
Millicent’s voice was strong and reassuring. “Of course. I’ll get on it right now. I’ll keep after that captain until he gets the radio working.”
“Thank you.” Dana couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice.
* * *
NIGHT FELL over Porte Ivoire like a thick, heavy cloak. Strangely, as I’d noticed often, the darkness didn’t muffle sound; noises seemed to intensify. The beating wings of a raptor swooping down on its prey; the rustle of a night animal in dry grass; the rumble of laughter from the waterfront. It had been that way the night Louis died. All the sounds magnified. I remember distinctly the whisper of the dart. The sharp intake of Louis’s breath. The sound of his body falling across the path.
Too bad he had to die. He had such a love for life, for fine wine and good food. And women. Most of them fell for his world-weary, French dilettante line. Few women knew what Louis was really like or what he was up to.
* * *
DANA
