Safari Stew: The Blenders, #3

By Veronica Helen Hart

Doll Reynolds receives word that her missing husband, Barclay, has been discovered teaching in a South African university. Rather than call the school, she arranges a trip to confirm the information for herself. Six of her Blender friends join her for support. Old Howard arranges a luxurious safari as a side trip to either celebrate finding Barclay or to console Doll if she doesn't. Either way, the trip leads to murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Book Group
• Release date: Apr 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781771551786

Book preview

One

Michael caught me as I slumped to the floor. Doll, what’s wrong?

Michael and I had been having a perfectly normal conversation about the murder of a woman in my new home when the telephone rang. My eldest son, Ian, announced that his private investigator had spotted Barclay, his stepfather and my long lost husband, in South Africa.

Mom? I heard Ian’s voice in the distance. Mom, can you hear me?

I struggled to stand upright as Michael continued to keep a grip around my waist. Where is he? I looked about as if expecting Ian to be right here in the bedroom of my new house.

You dropped the phone. Hold on, I’ll pick it up. Michael let go of me long enough to retrieve it from the floor. He held the handset to his ear. Who is this? he demanded. She’s right here. You’ve upset her. What did you say? She nearly fainted. You’ve found Barclay? After all this time?

The way he held the phone, I couldn’t hear a word Ian said.

I’m Michael. I believe we met last year when you came down for a visit with your family. Doll and I have been friends for a long time, even before Barclay disappeared. In fact your mother only recently agreed to marry me.

As he spoke he led me to the bed, where I took a tentative seat on the edge of the bare mattress. This was the last of the old furniture in the house to be removed before I had my things delivered from storage. I waved my hand at Michael, indicating I wanted the phone.

He passed it over. Ian was finishing a remark about me remarrying.

Ian! I’m here now. Listen to me. Your news is a shock.

Mother, how can you get married when you told me you’d wait forever for Barclay to return?

I had a moment of weakness. I offered Michael a faint smile. Michael is strong and kind and funny and handsome. I shrugged as if Ian could see me. Barclay had been like a father to my boys since Ian was ten and the others eight and six.

And Barclay wasn’t? I detected a note of criticism in Ian’s voice.

Barclay was…is different.

Michael pinched his lips and nodded.

"We were all happy for you when you married him, Mom, because we knew he made you happy after Dad died. What’s this joker like?"

I already told you. He’s tall and handsome.

Michael rolled his eyes.

And three years younger than me, I added. He keeps fit and has a lovely boat.

Is he one of the clowns who worked with you protecting that baby prince with your friends at Keegan Bay?

Would you please stop using such disparaging language about Michael? He could become your next stepfather. Now. I paused for a deep breath, not sure what I wanted to hear from Ian. Tell me more about your investigator and Barclay. I somehow thought you’d given up.

His name is Reeves. He has people all over the world searching. I sent photos to you a couple of weeks ago. Haven’t you been watching your email?

Watching my email? No. There are some things I haven’t told you. All my furniture is in storage because I bought a house, and I injured my ankle at a garage sale, and someone was murdered in the house, and the police suspected me for a while. I dumped out the whole story, hoping he’d miss some of the bits and pieces.

It never occurred to you your sons would want to know that you were hurt, that you bought a house and… What happened to your house in Keegan Bay?

Well, you see, I’ve been taking these pain killers and probably forgot to tell you a lot of things.

Wait a minute, did you say murder? What murder, and why did they suspect you?

It’s over, Ian. My friends in our Blenders Club have been helping me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You might like to know the house has a lovely pool.

Thoughts raced helter-skelter as I considered Barclay’s return into my life. His possible reappearance would certainly end my brief engagement in a hurry. Thank goodness I didn’t let Maggie and Violet, my Keegan Bay Park friends, talk me into donating his clothing to Goodwill. I’d have to share a bed again and cook regular meals for two. I’d have to do that when I married Michael anyway. Oh, Lord, I nearly became a bigamist.

Why can’t you act your age? You were nicely settled in Keegan Bay with the other senior citizens. You could be playing bridge instead of running around hurting yourself.

How dare he! Once again in need of a composing breath, I drew one in, then exhaled. Michael stood by, an amused expression on his face, his lips twitching at the edges. He knew my sons had issues with my lifestyle. They wanted me to be Granny to their children and have no other focus in my life.

I do not play bridge. I am barely seventy years old and have too much living left to do. Bridge playing is not included on my Bucket List. I paused to draw yet another deep breath. Michael and I are spending a lot of time together doing things we love. Now, tell me about Barclay. What about the pictures? Where were they taken, and do you believe it is Barclay?

I do. It appears he is lecturing at a college in Johannesburg under an assumed name.

Johannesburg? As in South Africa?

That’s correct. A private investigator with the unlikely name of Chipper Masterson found him. I’ve given Reeves a bonus, and as soon as you confirm it’s Barclay, I promised him more.

Barclay was the kind of person who could lecture on nearly any topic at any university in the world. "I don’t understand why he would be lecturing in Africa. Why didn’t he let me know he was alive?"

You’ll have to ask him that. Maybe he hit his head when he fell off that boat in the Galapagos.

While I spoke with my son, Michael had moved to the glass doors. His hands clasped behind his back, he faced the pool. My heart and mind skittered between him and the phone conversation.

Do you want me to fly down to escort you? I can manage the fare if you don’t have enough money.

My sons believed me destitute for some reason. Maybe because I never told them how the prince’s mother compensated all of us Blenders. When I die, they will be happily surprised with what I’ll leave behind. At my age, I’ll never be able to spend all the money.

No, thank you, dear. I’m sure Michael and some of the others would be willing to take a trip with me.

I hoped what I said was true. The Blenders were a loyal bunch. They stood by me during all the trauma when I sold my manufactured home in Keegan Bay Park and bought this house. Send me the details on your private investigator, and we’ll arrange to meet him over there as soon as we can.

I can be there in two days. I just have to make some arrangements at work, and my travel papers are up-to-date so I can go with you to South Africa.

Ian, I appreciate all you’ve done to find Barclay. Now it’s time for me to take over. Send me the information and give my love to Audrey and the boys. Please tell your brothers what’s going on so they don’t worry.

I ended the call and remained sitting on the bed, the phone forgotten while I considered the possibility of seeing Barclay again. Would he be the same? Would he want me in his life? Why did he never contact me? Tears slid down my face and dripped onto my hands.

After a few minutes, Michael cleared his throat. I’d nearly forgotten he was here.

We need to talk, Doll.

Forcing a laugh, I agreed with him. This day has been so bizarre. Shall we go out to eat? We can talk and make plans.

He didn’t answer, just held out his hand to help me to my feet. Before leaving, he secured all the doors, including shutting the secret entrance to a safe room in the bathroom—a surprise bonus in my new house.

He remained silent as he drove us in his Jeep to an upscale restaurant in the center of Daytona. Though the maître d’ raised his eyebrows briefly at our casual attire, he did seat us in an out of the way corner on the upper level rather than in the more famous and select wine cellar. The spot suited me just fine. I wasn’t up to being observed by strangers in my current condition—red eyes and faded sundress. I was caught up in picturing Barclay teaching in a university in South Africa, of all places.

Michael buried his face behind the oversized menu.

You’ve been remarkably quiet. My witty comment to begin the conversation.

Just thinking. His even wittier reply.

You know I need to go to South Africa, I added.

I know.

The voices of other diners diminished as I studied Michael’s face. I had never seen him so serious. If I had just met him, I’d describe him as dark and brooding.

The wine steward came for our order. I asked for a Pinot Noir; Michael ordered the same. We decided on a bottle.

My mind continued to race with possibilities. At this rate, I’d wear it out before I reached any conclusions. Do you think it’s true?

What?

That Barclay’s alive? I said.

For your sake, I suppose I’d like to believe it. I don’t know what to think. For a while there, I believed you and I were going to have a life together. Remember, ‘around the world’?

My lips compressed as I reflected on his words. Then I grinned. We can start with South Africa.

He cleared his throat, took a sip of his water then smiled at me. You’re right. We can still continue with part of our plan. I’ll travel with you to South Africa. If Barclay’s there, he paused to shrug, I’ll carry on by myself. If he’s not…

I’ll have your shoulder to cry on. At that moment I wanted to reach across the table and stroke his cheek, but a natural reticence to public displays of affection stopped me.

You would. He had no problem with such displays. He took my left hand in his and squeezed it gently. Want the filet mignon? You know it’s your favorite.

The abrupt change of subject sent all thoughts of Barclay and travel aside, and I buried my nose in the incredible menu. In the end, I did order the filet mignon with porcini mushroom cooked in wine, after first having sliced Parma prosciutto with fresh melon and pear. Michael chose the salmon. While enjoying the delicate flavors of the dinner, my mind wandered around the idea of traveling to South Africa. By the time we came to dessert, I had formed a plan.

Let’s have coffee. Do you think we could share the tiramisu? I’m full, but I can’t resist it. I sat back, relaxed after the wonderful meal and the time to regroup.

Tiramisu, it is. He signaled our waiter and ordered.

What if we all go to South Africa? I suggested.

All who?

The Blenders, at least those in our group who are down here. The Snowbirds will have to miss out. We can make a holiday out of it. I know they’d love to continue on with you if circumstances leave me in Johannesburg. I liked my idea and hoped he would too.

His brow knit. He lowered his head, and the tips of his ears turned red as he stirred sugar into his coffee.

I’d just hurt him with suggesting I’d suddenly dump him for Barclay, a man who appeared to have no compunction about abandoning me these past five years.

Michael’s eyes met mine. Some of them aren’t fit for such a long trip, you realize, he said, ignoring my hurtful statement.

Larry and Al would jump at the invitation. I’ll bet Maggie and Justine would as well.

Those four possibly. What would you do with them once you arrived? They can’t just sit in a hotel and wait for you to decide what’s next.

Of course not. Before we go, we’ll get together and plan day trips from the city until I know for sure about Barclay. After that, maybe we can go on a safari throughout the continent. At least to all the countries safe to travel in.

You’re talking an awful lot of money, Doll.

"We have an awful lot of money. None of us will have enough time to spend all we received from Moira Robbins for saving her princeling son."

You’re right there. I’m still having trouble with being one of the owners of Keegan Bay and not needing my military pension check any longer. He gazed over my shoulder, as if remembering something. In fact, I arranged a scheduled payment to help the wounded and disabled veterans. I was fortunate to come out of Vietnam unscathed, unlike so many other men.

That was one more part of him I respected. He had a collection of medals because of injuries and bravery in action while in Vietnam. If he believed himself unscathed, that only added another point in his favor. No question that if I didn’t love him fully, I truly admired him.

Well, then, he said as he raised his coffee cup. The Blenders go to Africa.

I smiled and held mine up as well. Sounds like the title of a book.

Two

Justine

Justine surveyed the Blenders sitting in her tidy living room. She and Maggie agreed to convene a meeting that didn’t include Doll and Michael, reflecting that the couple had enough going on without worrying about their upcoming adventure.

Present were Violet and John, sitting on kitchen chairs in the rear corner of the room. They used to be Doll’s immediate neighbors. Pete and Alice sat on kitchen chairs at opposite ends of the room. Larry and Al perched on the love seat; Howard, Maggie, and Bea all lined up on the sofa. The other members were snowbirds and wouldn’t come south for another two or three months.

After serving iced tea and delicate pastries on her fine china, Justine stood behind her bookstand, using it as a lectern. She occasionally referred to her notes.

Some of you may have heard Doll’s son believes he found her husband, his stepfather, Barclay Reynolds, living and working in South Africa. She and Michael have decided to travel over there to see for themselves who this man really is. We were all invited, though I understand you are not all able to go for a variety of reasons.

"Some of us have other commitments, not so easy to walk away from." Violet sniffed.

I wish you all could go on this trip with us. Maggie and I wanted to consult with you about our plans. What with Doll buying that house and the murder, I think it’s important for whoever can make the trip to give her emotional support.

Very out of character for her, Howard said. I’ve considered her a very steady woman. I can’t understand what got into her. All my life—

A bad decision if ever I saw one, Pete added, cutting Howard off before he got to the part in WWII where he rescued some damsel in distress, his usual segue. He put up his hands in defense. However, no matter what inspired her, I agreed to take on the job of renovating it.

Don’t forget she hurt her leg and was taking those pain pills. I’m sure that didn’t help her decision-making process any.

You’re right, Maggie. Combined with how much she’s been drinking lately, it’s a wonder she didn’t suddenly squander all her money. Glad there were no cute pool boys who came with the house. Violet set down her tea cup. What do you have in mind, Justine?

Because only a few of us are going to Africa, we wanted you to know our plan. Al, do you want to tell them?

Al cleared his throat as he joined her at the lectern. It’s not really so much of a plan as a continuation of what we’ve been trying to do for her right along. We’re going to support her by taking all the pressure of this trip off her shoulders, then hopefully guiding her gently to her previous, happy, creative self. She used to be fun to be around.

Most of the group nodded.

Justine and Maggie are taking care of the accommodations including— He stopped and let his gaze wander over the group. A safari.

A safari? Alice said. Like tents and jungles and wild animals? Why would you do that? She glared accusingly at Justine.

Tents and wild animals, definitely, Justine said. Maggie and I did our research and found a new lodge in a game reserve. The tents look like small palaces. The lodge accommodates sixteen guests, so it won’t be overflowing with tourists. It’ll be practically private.

Excuse me, why would Doll want to go on a safari, whether she finds Barclay or not? Bea asked.

They used to travel together, Larry said. "The idea is this—if the person at the university is Barclay, they’ll have a wonderful opportunity to become reacquainted in a remote, romantic setting."

If he’s not Barclay, well, we, including Michael, will be able to distract her by doing something so different, Justine said.

And, don’t forget, we’ll be there for Michael if she does find Barclay, Al added. They were talking about getting married when her son telephoned.

Larry agreed. He’ll need our support.

I, for one, don’t believe she’ll ever marry until she sees a body, Maggie declared.

She actually said they were engaged, you know, Justine reminded her. Now, we’ll have to be flexible about this trip.

Larry laughed. Justine? Are you telling us to be flexible? You, the least flexible woman on the planet?

I’m not completely inflexible. My joining Maggie to come up with this plan should be evidence enough of that.

Like going on a safari, Pete said. So what do you want from us?

The others looked to one another as if one of them held the secret.

Justine clapped her hands to get their attention again. You all promised to work on her new house, get it in shape. We’ll keep her away long enough for you to get it done. When we return, she won’t have to go back to that motel.

I see, Pete said with a knowing smile. You’ll do all the hard work.

The rest of them laughed.

Larry tapped a spoon on the lectern. So, this is what we have. Al, Maggie, Justine, and I will take care of all the arrangements as well as go on the trip with Doll and Michael.

Hold on there a minute, young man. Howard hit the arm of the sofa. No one ever asked me if I wanted to go along.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

Justine cleared her throat. So, Howard, would you like to join us? She asked with a smile, hoping her dread that he would accept wasn’t evident.

Damned tootin’, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Been a long time since I’ve been out of this place. You make those reservations to include me. I gotta go see if my passport is up-to-date. Too bad all the ones I had during the war expired. It’d be kind of fun to travel as a Jean-Claude or Heinrich Schmidt again.

She yanked the spoon from Al’s hand and banged once on the lectern. The meeting is over.

Three

Orlando Airport

Doll

The Blenders who chose to join us in the venture included Larry and Al, Maggie, Justine, and to my surprise, Old Howard. In his nineties, I would have considered him too ancient, but he insisted. As we planned to travel business class, he believed he’d be comfortable enough. No one wanted to argue with him.

During the last three weeks Ian had sent me several photos of Barclay standing at the front of a large lecture hall, walking along a tree covered path between buildings, and relaxing on a fifth or sixth floor balcony of an apartment building. All the photos looked like him; except with much lighter hair, either white or very blond. He used the name John Carruthers, though I couldn’t think of any reason for Barclay to want to change his name.

My efforts to contact the school were useless. When they asked my business, I choked. I couldn’t bring myself to say I was Doris Reynolds and their Professor Carruthers was my long lost husband. Ian kept his investigator on duty until I could go there for myself and talk to Barclay. I could hardly think about anything else.

Larry and Al took care of our African outfitting and recommended our purchases, so here we sat in our light tan and khaki-colored clothing and pith helmets packed in soft duffel bags. I have to give it to the boys; they do know style. I wore a comfortable micro-suede travel suit that would be great for sleeping on the plane.

I hoped Maggie and Justine did as well with our accommodations in Johannesburg. Maggie is the stalwart, rugged one, whereas Justine is prim and fussy. Our rooms could be anything from basic motel to luxury penthouse.

Our flight left shortly after four in the afternoon and, following a stop in New York, was scheduled to arrive in Frankfurt late the next morning, after which we had ten hours to kill. After our late lunch, we headed for the gate where Michael and I chose to go sit in the priority boarding area. The others stopped at a Mexican themed bar.

I opened my e-reader to a murder mystery I started weeks ago. Oblivious to the words, my mind skipped past the flight, fast-forwarded to Johannesburg and meeting Barclay after so many years. I couldn’t stop fidgeting. I wish we could board and get this over with.

Are you nervous about flying? Michael asked with some surprise in his voice.

A bit, I admitted. I’m more nervous about seeing Barclay.

Michael placed an arm on my shoulder. Don’t worry, I’ll be there, right beside you.

~ * ~

JFK International Airport, New York

We landed in New York at the John F. Kennedy Airport. As a child I knew this airport as Idlewild. I flew from there to the West Coast with my parents, stopping to refuel in, I think, Kansas City. Things had certainly changed over the years. Now we had to take a bus just to move from