“The little red box with the blinking red eye,” said Leo.
“Someone must have put it there.”
“I don’t dispute that,” said Leo. “But, there is no proof that Matilda put the HemaCube in Francine’s hamper.”
“Maybe not,” conceded Vivian. “But, Matilda had a reason to steal the HemaCube. Dr. Farmer said that Matilda was jealous of Francine because of Yves, the accountant. Matilda saw Francine as her romantic rival, and she wanted to get rid of her. She asked Dr. Farmer about a witch doctor.”
Leo debated making a corny joke about the homonyms witch and which, but Vivian didn’t look like she was in the mood for juvenile humor at the moment, so he said, “According to Dr. Farmer.”
“You think he lied?”
Leo shrugged. “Probably not. Okay, let’s say you’re right. Matilda stole the HemaCube and put it in Francine’s hamper so Lily would find it and assume that Francine was a vampire? How could Matilda have known that the villagers would kill Francine? How did she know Lily would tell the men about Francine? What if Lily wasn’t a superstitious villager?”
“Instead of standing there poking holes in my logic and maligning my speculation,” said Vivian, “why don’t you help me search?”
“What do you think we’re going to find?” asked Leo. “A secret diary with Matilda’s methodically journaled diabolical plans to get rid of her rival by making her look like a vampire?”
Vivian gave him the evil eye.
Leo sighed, pushed away from the door frame and entered the room. Like Francine’s cottage, Matilda’s was also a one-room studio with a living area, sleeping bunk, and a door that opened to a tiny bathroom.
“We need to find evidence that Matilda set up Francine to look like a vampire,” said Vivian, disappearing into the small bathroom
“Whatever the hell that is,” Leo mumbled under his breath as he walked to the writing desk and half-heartedly glanced at the items on Matilda’s desk. Not surprisingly, Matilda’s step by step outline to thwart her romantic rival was not among the documents. All he saw were a few bills, a magazine, some sort of schedule, and—
“Come and check out what I found,” said Vivian.
Glancing toward the bathroom, he asked, “Let me guess. Matilda’s diary?”
“Something even better,” promised Vivian.
Leo joined her in the bathroom, where she sat on the closed toilet lid, balancing a shoebox on her knees.
“What’s inside?” he asked.
After Vivian lifted the lid, Leo took a look.
Two small empty glass bottles, very similar to the bottles found in Francine’s hamper, and several small tubes of red food coloring.
“You still think there’s no proof that Matilda set Francine up to look like a vampire?”
9
Instruct-Africa Compound
Bingu Village, Rural Malawi
“I’m going to call Wes and ask him to set up a meeting with Matilda,” said Leo, locking the door to Matilda’s cottage. “Shouldn’t you be calling the cops?” asked Vivian, clutching the shoebox under her arm as she headed toward the courtyard.
Falling into step with her, Leo removed his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “Don’t you think we should see what Matilda has to say for herself before we have her hauled away in handcuffs?”
“What do you think she’s going to say?” asked Vivian as they crossed the dusty dirt yard, angling toward the SUV. “You think she’s going to admit that she put food coloring in glass bottles to make Lily believe that Francine was a vampire?”
“Have you considered that the shoe box with the bottles of fake blood might not be Matilda’s?” asked Leo.
“Then why did we find the shoebox in Matilda’s room?”
“Maybe she didn’t put it there,” suggested Leo.
Vivian glanced at him and frowned. “You think someone is trying to frame Matilda?”
Leo shrugged. “Maybe someone else wanted Francine dead and decided to make it look like Matilda orchestrated the murder.”
Vivian shook her head. “Who would go through the trouble?”
At the rear of the SUV, they parted. Vivian went to the driver’s door, and Leo headed around to the passenger’s side. Waiting for her to unlock the door, he dialed Wes’ number and considered Vivian’s question. The idea of someone framing Matilda for Francine’s murder was a bit far-fetched, but Leo could imagine that Gus Stewart might be willing to go through the trouble. Gus’ account of Francine’s murder still bothered Leo. The director’s ability to avoid being slaughtered along with the driver and Francine was still suspicious to him.
Leo was still considering the possibility that Gus had killed Francine.
“Door’s open,” Vivian called out.
Leo grabbed the door handle.
“Why are you here?”
The voice, from somewhere behind him, was a deep tenor, overflowing with mistrust and aggression.
Turning, Leo ended the call to Wes before it was answered. His gut clenched as his heart started to pound.
Four men, two with machetes, two holding rocks the size of a grapefruit, glared at him with suspicious eyes.
“I know what you are,” said one of the men, a tall, lanky villager with red-rimmed eyes. “I know why you are here.”
“Listen, I don’t want any problems, okay,” said Leo. “I’m leaving now, so—”
“What's going on?”, asked Vivian, her voice coming from inside the SUV through the window Leo figured she'd rolled down.
“Start the car and leave,” Leo told her, his gaze focused on the men as they advanced toward him.
“What do they want?” asked Vivian, ignoring his instructions. “What did they say?”
“I know what you want,” said the leader, his dusty jeans and dirty t-shirt hanging off his gaunt frame. “But you will not get our blood to sell!”
“Wait a minute!” Leo demanded, side-stepping to the right, toward the hood of the SUV, desperate to draw the crazed men away from Vivian. “I’m not here to—”
“Anamapopa!” the men shouted, rushing toward him.
Leo turned and ran toward the nearest cottage, hoping the men would chase him so Vivian could leave and get help.
“Anamapopa!” The shouts grew louder.
Leo glanced behind him.
A stone hurtled toward his face.
Ducking, he executed a spinning turn, kicking up red dust, and—
The rock
