Fletch, Too

“With the resultant loss of sense of time and place.”

“Which is why he didn’t show up.”

“Sometime during the day, he’s not sure just when, he found himself in an altercation at the Thorn Tree Cafe. Someone, he says, insulted the Queen.”

“What Queen?”

“The Queen of England. Elizabeth Regina Twice.”

“What does he care about the Queen of England? He’s born and bred Montana,”

“We all care about the Queen of England out here, old chap. She’s very fond of Kenya. Been here twice.”

Carr drew his knife across the surfaces of the two fried eggs the waiter had brought him. “What came tip was his fist. He’s aware of having done damage to two or three people, seems to remember the sounds of glass smashing, seeing one of those little tables in matchsticks on the ground, and of being very angry at a placating askari, although whether he actually hit him is something the senior Fletcher is trying to reason through this morning. Why don’t you go get your fruit?”

“What’s an askari?”

“A guard. Possibly a cop. It will make a difference when this matter comes to trial.”

“He got into a bar fight.”

“So he testifies.”

“He was doing that sort of thing at age fifteen, or so my mother testifies.”

“I’d give you a rhyming couplet about the boy in every man, but I never was that strong on Wordsworth.”

“So where is he now, in jail?”

“Not yet. He’s gone to ground to reconstruct his head and think things through. I had the discretion not to ask from where he was calling. He’ll have to face the tune sooner or later, of course. Nairobi isn’t like London or New York, you know. Everyone here knows who Fletcher is. On the other hand, people here didn’t used to take this sort of bash-up all that seriously.”

“Mother warned me he was apt to evade emotional moments.”

“Did she? Is that what she said? How very kind of her. Understanding, I’d say.”

“So why did he invite me here if it was going to be so upsetting for him?”

“Sometimes you don’t know your kanga has a loose thread.”

“Is that from Wordsworth?”

“Maybe. It makes a great deal of difference whether the askari he hit was a private watchman or a real policeman.”

“You indicated yesterday the law is very strict here.”

“Very. It has lost its sense of humor.”

“Listen, Carr …”

“Why don’t you get some breakfast? Fried eggs you have to order from the waiter.”

“You probably know where my father is.”

“Probably.”

“Why don’t I go to him now, get this confrontation over? Maybe I can even be a help to him.”

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you fly up to Lake Turkana with me today? I’ve got to deliver a scientist up there. I’ll be coming right back. You can have a swim. We can have lunch. Nile perch. Nice time.”

“My father—”

“Put yourself in his shoes, Fletch. He’s got a hell of a hangover. Probably a bloody nose. He’s liable for arrest. Last thing anyone would want under such circumstances is for a dazzling kid who looks like he’s never farted to come walking in offering aid and assistance, calling him Daddy.”

“I’ve farted.”

“Glad you heard it.”

Fletch looked at the buffet. “Guess I’ll get some breakfast.”

“Breakfast,” said Carr, “is the only fortification left to modern man.”

While Fletch circumnavigated the breakfast buffet, he saw Barbara enter the room, kiss Carr on the cheek, and sit down.

On his plate Fletch placed pineapple, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast. He also took a glass of orange juice.

“Just explaining to your wife,” Carr said, “that the senior Fletcher is held up today by a sticky legal problem. Suggesting you both fly up to Turkana with me …”

“Nice of you …” Barbara’s eyes were filled with questions.

“About a two-and-a-half-hour flight each way. Lake Turkana is very interesting. Used to be called the Jade Sea. Plenty of room in the plane. Carries eight passengers and there’s only this one small scientist going. A Dr. McCoy. He won’t mind at all.”

Barbara said, “I’m a little sick of airplanes …”

Carr looked at his watch. “Trouble is, I have to be going. I told Dr. McCoy I’d be ready to take off at ten.”

“You go, Fletch,” Barbara said. “I really need a down day. There’s a swimming pool somewhere here. I’ve never even looked in the aviaries in the courtyard yet.”

“Sure you’ll be all right?” Fletch was eating rapidly.

“If I get bored I can go walk around that mosque near here. I’ve never seen a real mosque.”

“I’ll get the car. You’ll be out front in five minutes, Fletch?”

“Sure.”

After Carr left the breakfast room, Barbara said, “Fletch, darling. There is something about your father that doesn’t make sense.”

Fletch drained his cup of the strong coffee. “We knew that before we arrived.”

Barbara shoved Fletch away from the bathroom mirror. “Is this what life with you is going to be like?”

Fletch was brushing his teeth. “What do you mean?”

She put toothpaste on her own brush. “Always running away? Always being somewhere else?”

She already had changed into her swimsuit.

“Carr invited both of us,” Fletch said. “You said you didn’t want to come. You said you were sick of airplanes, want to spend the day resting by the pool.”

“Lovely,” Barbara said. “You fly me to East Africa, worry my mother frantic, then fly off into the bush, leaving me in some tropical hotel…”

“I agreed to go. I thought you would want to go, too.”

“I said I wanted to stay here. I thought you’d say you wanted to stay here, too.”

“Will you let me rinse my mouth? Please?”

Barbara stepped aside, but not much. “We got married. Big event in life. We flew halfway around the world, totally unprepared. Big event. To meet your father, for the first time, which should be a big event, except he decides he’s got something better to do than meet us. Yesterday, you saw someone get stabbed to death in a bathroom. Big bloody event! And today you want to go flying off into the African bush to someplace we’ve never heard of, with someone we don’t even know!”

“You losing your sense of humor?”

“When is enough enough for you? Can’t you sit still a damned minute?”

“Okay,” Fletch said. “I’ll go downstairs and tell Carr I’m not going. We’ll sit by the pool.”

She had put the cap back on the toothpaste and placed the tube neatly on the counter.

Barbara turned and faced Fletch. “No. You go.” Suddenly her tight fist, much smaller and harder than Fletch had realized, smashed into Fletch’s stomach, low, just inside his right hipbone. “Take that with you.”

Fletch lowered his head. He looked up at her. “No one’s ever hit me there before.”