Tall, Dark And Deadly

“The moments could turn to days,” Millicent reminded her. “If that engine doesn’t get repaired.”

Alex didn’t seem to be listening. “How do you like my hotel?”

“It’s very—interesting,” Dana managed to say.

Alex laughed, a deep, rich sound. “I think of the old building as a grand lady past her prime, a little tawdry but with quite a past. A lady with many secrets.” His smile intimated that he might be willing to share those secrets with Dana. “Let me take that for you.” He reached for the bag she had slung over her shoulder.

“That’s all right, I—”

It was too late. His hand was on her arm, insinuating upward and under the strap of the bag, which he slipped off her shoulder. “I’ll get you checked in.”

Louis spoke up. “Ignoring your old ami, eh, Alex? Well, in the company of one so lovely, that is understandable.”

Dana saw Alex’s eyes flicker quickly to Louis and then back to her. “I didn’t expect you to turn up, Bertrand,” he said coolly.

“But you know how much I love the river, and I needed a respite from the heat and crowds of Brazzaville. I had delightful company aboard the steamer. As for this young lady, you will be interested, as I certainly was, to learn that she shares my fascination with the Mgembe. The Pygmies, you know.”

Alex gave Louis a long look and shrugged. “To each his own, Bertrand. And now, ladies...” He bowed slightly. “If you’ll come into the lobby with me. Oh, and you, too, Bertrand,” he added as an afterthought.

“You have one more guest,” Louis reminded him. “Monsieur Longongo is still loading down the porters with his bags. He cannot manage to travel light.”

Alex glanced at the little man just leaving the dock. “Maybe by the time he gets here, all my rooms will be booked.” With that, he slung Dana’s bag over his shoulder and led the way into the hotel.

* * *

DANA opened the door, stepped into her room and into a scene out of an old movie. Crossing on mahogany plank floors, she dropped her bag onto a simple iron bedstead painted white with a bright colored spread. Overhead a slow-moving ceiling fan circulated the humid air.

Admittedly, the flowered wallpaper was peeling a little, the throw rugs faded, the bedspread worn. But that was part of the charm. As Alex had said, the hotel was a little past its prime but still grand.

She closed the door, almost expecting a director to shout, “Cut.” A slight smile spread over her face. If she was acting out a role in an old movie, she was also thinking about the film’s hero, a handsome hotelier with a wicked reputation. She crossed the room and pushed open the French doors to the upper-level veranda. The Congo River lay before her, curving like a huge serpent, slithering into the depths of the tropical rain forest.

Her own private movie was interrupted when Betty Weston stepped onto the veranda next door. “At least the hotel has a nice view,” the redhead said grudgingly.

“All this is new to me,” Dana admitted, “and very exciting.”

Betty faced her, leaning back against the railing. “Yes, you are rather a novice.” Her brown eyes were hard and glittering. “I saw you with him.”

“Him?”

“Alex, of course. I thought you’d heard enough about him on the boat.”

“I try not to listen to gossip,” Dana responded.

Betty snorted with disgust. “You won’t have to worry about gossip if we’re here long enough. You’ll find out for yourself what a cold and ruthless man he is—”

Dana was speechless at the angry words.

“Oh, he’s interested in you,” Betty went on. “He always likes new women, but in the long run, he’s after one of two things. Sex or money. So remember to lock your door—and hide your valuables.”

The knock on Dana’s door was a welcome sound. Without hesitation, she made her apologies to Betty and left the veranda. Millicent was waiting at her door.

“Oh, there you are, dear. I’ve come to take you shopping.”

“But we just got here, Millicent. I haven’t even unpacked or had a chance to rest—”

“Rest, on your first day in Porte Ivoire? Ridiculous! You have to see the native quarter and go to the market. They’re just opening up again after the midday break. You won’t believe the beautiful fabrics. I know a little shop—”

Dana started to respond, but Millicent was on a roll. “Rest!” she repeated. “I’m sixty-three. Did you know that? And I can go all day. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” Dana responded.

“Then you can probably keep up with me.”

“You bet I can,” Dana promised. “Let’s go shopping.”

* * *

DANA WISHED she could take back those words a dozen times during their shopping trip. Most of the villagers and half the inhabitants of the surrounding countryside seemed to be crowded into the Port Ivoire bazaar.

Shoppers called back and forth and children chased one another among the thatched-roof shops that sold everything from live chickens to intricately carved figurines. The scents of cooking meat and stewing spices wafted on the air, mingled with the cacophony of half a dozen different dialects. The market was loud and frenetic, hot and dusty. And overhead the relentless sun beat down.

The heat wasn’t all that got to Dana; so did Millicent’s relentless advice and cheerful instructions.

“No, no, dear. Not that pottery. You can buy it much more cheaply at another shop,” she whispered, drawing Dana away from a display of brightly painted pots. “Besides, this is not nearly as special as the carvings. And of course the cloth. And, oh, I know a wonderful shop where you can buy jewelry, authentic pieces, hand set—”

Dana asserted herself. “I’m not buying, I’m just looking, Millie. And I’m sure I’ll get around to all the shops eventually.”

Millicent sighed. “Of course. I forget what it’s like to come here for the first time. But when it’s time to buy, let me be your adviser, dear, so you won’t be taken advantage of.” She wagged a warning finger.

“Thanks, Millie. I will.” Dana stepped out of the sun into the doorway of a corner shop, hoping for a hint of breeze. There was none. She mopped at the dampness on her forehead with a tissue. “I’m a little overwhelmed by all this activity—and heat,” Dana admitted. “But I don’t want to hold you back, Millie.”

“Well...” Millie adjusted her hat to better shade her face. “I am anxious to visit a friend at the other side of the bazaar. She sells the most fabulous handwoven rugs. I’m taking a few back to Brazzaville on consignment. You’d love—”

Dana laughed at Millie’s energy and enthusiasm. “I’m sure I would, but I’m not going to carry rugs back on the plane. Go ahead, see your friend. I’ll wander around on this side of the market. It’s a little shadier,” she added.

“Are you sure, dear?” Millie asked solicitously.

“I’m sure. I’ll look around for a little while and then go back to the hotel.” Dana could tell she was cramping Millie’s energetic style. “Go on. It’s okay.”

“Such a dear girl,” Millie said. “Now be careful what you eat around here or you might end up with toasted grub worms.” Millie chuckled at her humor.

“I’m going to browse, not eat,” Dana called after her. “And I’m not buying anything.”

* * *

BACK AT THE HOTEL, Dana looked at her purchases. Why, when she’d only meant to browse, had she invested in yards of bright colored cloth, a carved leopard and a huge straw hat? She’d have plenty of time later to explore the markets at her leisure, maybe find some real bargains on items she actually wanted. Oh, well, she decided, her purchases were interesting.

She tossed everything on a chair, kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed. As the fan whirred hypnotically, the sounds of the river seemed to recede and float away on the hot, moist air. Dana closed her eyes.