Charlotte was right. We didn’t know anything about him. After breakfast I wandered around the lodge in search of an internet signal. I could Google him. But “Dr. Higgins” wasn’t much to go on. I didn’t know where he lived. I didn’t know what he did for a living. I didn’t even know his first name.
I regretted not talking to him more. Then I remembered how obnoxious he was.
My search for an internet signal was fruitless and I found myself outside his room. All the information was within. I paced outside and pondered what to do. It was clear—I needed to check out his room. It was the only place I could think to find information.
But the question was how I could get in.
I walked up to the door and tried the door. Locked. I don’t know what I would have done if it had opened, other than be surprised.
I walked back up the walkway and tried to think of another way in. Other than the front door, the only other way in was the patio door, at the back. From the walkway, I looked at the end of the hut. If I walked along the perimeter of the room, I might be able to get to the patio. I leaned in, considering it. The terrain was rough and I didn’t know how high the patio would be off the ground. Plus, I didn’t know what else lurked in the greenery. Spiders? Scorpions? I knew about the Big Five and nothing about the little predators that might be waiting.
The patio option seemed dangerous and hard to explain if I got caught. And most likely, the patio door would be locked too.
A housekeeper was approaching from the right. I kept my head down, hoping my face wouldn’t betray me.
“Are you sad?” the housekeeper asked. “So sad about Dr. Higgins.”
I glanced at the hut and then to her. “Yes, so sad about the good doctor,” I responded.
“Did you come to pay your respects?” she asked.
“Yes, yes I did.” I bit my lip. “Can you let me in?”
She looked around. With no other staffers in sight, she nodded and waved me to follow her. “I’ll be cleaning his room next. You can go in until then.”
“Oh, thank you.” I couldn’t believe my luck. She was just going to let me in. Things work differently outside the States. I had no money on me but made a mental note of her name, Coral, to add to her tip envelope when we departed.
She unlocked the door with her master key and I took a deep breath before walking in, preparing myself for the scene. The body would be gone but if they hadn’t cleaned the room yet, his remnants would still be there.
But they weren’t. It was clean. As clean as our suite, when we checked in.
I didn’t know if I should be impressed or scared. Had they cleaned a crime scene before? Did they do it regularly? Was room five the one for human sacrifices? With no internet, we couldn’t send for help, and we couldn’t check if this was the first time or if the lodge was regularly hit with “accidents.”
I was getting paranoid.
I needed some sleep.
I had tossed and turned all night.
I took a deep breath and assured myself this was the one and only hyena incident they had ever had. But I planned to check once I got an internet signal, just in case. Again, I was astonished at how clean the sitting area was. Not a spot of blood, or other body tissue, could be seen. I worried for the housekeepers’ spouses if they could clean up a crime scene this well.
Our room wouldn’t require much cleaning, so I knew my time to investigate was limited. I went to the wardrobe. His clothes hung neatly on hangers. Pants, shirt, T-shirts. All safari-approved colors—varying from olive green to khaki. I patted the clothes down but there was nothing in them. His luggage sat on the luggage rack. I checked the two outside zippered compartments of the leather duffle. Empty. I opened it and it was empty, as were the two inside zippered areas. I ran my hand along the inside of the bag. No secret compartments. Nothing small hidden in the seams. And no luggage tag hanging from its handles.
The luggage had a lovely feel and I checked the label. I doubt I could afford it. It was worn but in excellent shape. I wondered if he took adventure trips like this often. It only added to the impression he was channeling Indiana Jones.
The wardrobe a bust, I looked around the room. Where else could I look?
An older guy like him…maybe he was on a prescription. I chastised myself. Anyone planning a trip to Africa knew the risk of malaria and I assumed all of us were taking antimalarial medications. I couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t be on them too. His name and maybe more personal information would be on the bottle. I ran to the bathroom.
His toiletry bag matched his duffle. Same brand. Same vintage brown leather. And same result as the wardrobe.
Had the killer cleared out all his personal information? Or had the lodge staff sent it off with his body. But left his clothing? I doubted it.
Standing at the bathroom doorway, I looked around the room. Where would you keep something safe in a hotel room? My eyes stopped at the far closet. Of course, I could have slapped my head in frustration. The safest place was the safe.
I ran up to it and found it locked. Only a safe in use would be locked. My hands hovered over the digital keypad. Not knowing anything about Dr. Higgins made guessing his code difficult. He didn’t seem like a man to pick something obvious. No 1-1-1-1 for him. I doubted it would be sentimental either. No anniversaries, birthdays, or the like. For Dr. Higgins, it would be random. And that made it impossible to guess. I had no idea how many possible combinations there were. I should have paid attention in math class.
I took a stab and hit 5-3-8-1. Three beeps and it remained locked. I tried 1-8-3-5. Three beeps and it remained locked. Fearing a third unsuccessful guess would produce even louder beeps, I gave up.
I plopped in the chair. The Chair. The chair I had found his mutilated body in yesterday.
I should have recoiled but I was too tired. The African heat and early mornings, plus the shock of finding a dead body and the ensuing paranoia that one of my fellow travelers was a murderer, really took it out of me. I closed my eyes. Just for a minute or two, I thought.
A tap on my shoulder startled me and I screamed.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” Coral said, hovering over me. “I have to clean the room now.”
“Oh. Okay. Sure.” I struggled to my feet. “Thank you.”
She nodded and watched as I scurried out.
Charlotte ran into me on the walkway.
“I heard you scream. What’s wrong?” she asked.
Looking at her disheveled clothes and hair, I asked, “Were you sleeping?”
“Yes.”
“And you heard me scream?”
“Yes.”
Eyebrows raised, I waited for her to realize it. Asleep, one hut away, she had heard me scream.
Why had we not heard Dr. Higgins?