Day 1
The first time they met was the day Tyburn arrived in Kenya, and there was an undeniable spark. Tyburn was investigating the disappearance of Lady Daphne Ellesmere, and any such investigation would have to include the most decadent member of the Ellesmeres' decadent "Happy Valley" set, Chico de Ville. Assistant Superintendent Lanyard didn't catch the spark, of course -- sanctimonious little prick -- but Chico was particularly susceptible to these things. What Tyburn saw in him, Chico would never know; he was emaciated, strung-out, red-eyed, and his roots were showing. And Tyburn...God, Tyburn had those broad shoulders and that high forehead and those bright eyes, and when he took Chico's limply offered hand in his strong grip, Chico would've fainted if he hadn't already been on that ridiculous couch.
Tyburn teased him maliciously, the first time. "You should take something for that cold," indeed. As if a legendary Scotland Yard detective couldn't recognize a cocaine addict from the first sniff. So Chico made that disastrous excuse about hay fever and blew him off -- and felt the Superintendent's smug grin on the back of his head the entire time he was walking away.
Tyburn smiled when Clive called Chico a "wretched catamite." What would you say if you knew your new Superintendent's proclivities? he wondered, but out of respect for the Assistant Superintendent's missionary training, he said nothing. But he kept seeing Chico's languid sneer and garishly painted nails, his robe slipping off his shoulder, his hand covering his laughing mouth when he heard of Daphne's Disappearance (which Tyburn had begun capitalizing in his mind, thinking Chico had been right -- it did sound like the title of a cheap novelette). And Chico's taunting promise, "Anything for the boys in brown," rang in Tyburn's ears any time he managed to block out any of the images he was already associating with the younger man, and Tyburn's chest tingled every time he remembered how Chico's hand had trailed across it.
Tyburn considered that first meeting the entire time he was in Emma Fitzgerald's plane, searching the brush for her sister's body, and decided that the bleached-blond socialite would be far more trouble than he was worth. But when Tyburn fell asleep that first night, tangled in the mosquito netting he had no idea how to use, it was de Ville he dreamed of, and when Constable Karinde roused him the next morning to tell him that Lady Daphne's car had been found, he had to bite back Chico's name on his tongue.
Day 2
After the second autopsy confirmed his suspicion that Lady Daphne had been murdered (he nearly lost his job over that, Commissioner Burkitt considering it tantamount to mortal sin to "take the word of a Jew -- and a German Jew, at that -- over that of his fellow Englishman," never mind that Allisdair Strachan was a drug-addled quack -- and a Scot, by the way -- and Emil Mueller a highly competent physician), Tyburn could have asked any of the Happy Valley set what happened the night she went missing. They had all been at the Kefaro Club, and even that snobbish lush Gladys Carstairs would've told him what he needed to know. But of course the instant he left police lines, he knew where he was headed.
"Really, Superintendent," Chico told him drowsily, lounging on the same couch on the same side of the Kefaro patio where they had first met, as Tyburn speculated that the dalliance Daphne Ellesmere might or might not have been having with Viscount Cameron was the motive for her murder, "if you wish to understand us, you'll have to be a little less parochial. Affairs here, they're...something to do after dinner." And he blew another puff of smoke Tyburn's way and smiled so seductively the other man almost dropped his hat.
"Then why did she leave?" When Chico didn't answer, Tyburn's brown eyes hardened. "Ordinarily, Mr de Ville, I wouldn't be interested in your private affairs," he said, and they silently acknowledged that this was only true as far as his duties as Superintendent went -- that personally, Tyburn was very interested in Chico's private affairs. "But someone has been murdered, and it's my job to find out who did it. Now, if that means blackening the reputation of every man in the colony, I'll do it, believe me. So, from the beginning. What happened here that night?" Their eyes locked, and Chico understand what type of challenge this was intended as. It was his one chance to prove himself to Tyburn.
So he unfolded the tale of what had been, by Kefaro standards, a dull evening. Lady Daphne refused to bankroll the Carstairs' hair-brained silver mine scheme. Lord Ellesmere dropped a bundle in the casino and had a dreadful row with his wife when he begged her for an advance -- "Harry, I'm not paying your debt. Why don't you get your bloody whore to make it on her back?" Daphne blew out of the room in a fury; Boy Cameron left the club not long after, and Chico, when he stepped outside for air, spotted Daphne arguing with Strachan.
"Dr Strachan was here?" Tyburn asked in surprise.
"The good doctor is always on hand," Chico replied. "He does a roaring trade."
"What trade might that be?" Tyburn asked. "Keeping you supplied with cocaine?"
Chico's expression barely flickered, but Tyburn knew that he'd cut the other man to the quick, and he cursed silently. "I think I shall go in now," Chico said. "Too much sun can be bad for one." He started across the lobby, but Tyburn chased after him.
"Mr de Ville!" He caught up and grasped his arm. "Chico." He turned slowly to face Tyburn. "I am sorry. I didn't intend--"
"You may not have intended, Superintendent, but you have managed to."
"Chico, please." This was such a difficult word for the detective. "How can I make it up to you?"
Chico smiled and shook his head. "Ah, Superintendent, one should not ask such questions until one is prepared to hear the answer -- and make good on one's offer."
"My name, Mr de Ville, is Albert," he said, taking a step closer, his hand sliding down Chico's upper arm both the reason Chico was almost fainting and the only thing holding him upright, "and I never ask a question unless I am prepared to hear the answer."
Chico's room at the Kefaro was cool and dark, and the white sheets crinkled as Albert lowered the other man slowly onto them. Chico writhed beneath Albert's hands and lips, and he kept his eyes open until he absolutely could do so no longer, drinking in the rippling muscles and the cocky smile that was never far from Albert's mouth and eyes.
Albert collapsed beside Chico, whose eyes (they were light green; they were slate blue; they were almost gold -- depending on the light. Albert could've stared at them all afternoon trying to figure them out) were already flickering shut from post-coital exhaustion. "Chico?" Albert shook his shoulder gently.
"You can't stay, I imagine," Chico murmured.
"I need to speak with Gussie Carstairs," he said, and Chico snorted. "Do you know where I can find him?"
"You can find him, Superintendent, where one always finds him. In a glass of scotch." Albert glared at him, and he sighed. "In the bar here." Albert nodded and reached for his pants. "I will be seeing you again, won't I?" he asked, his lethargy not completely masking the worry in his voice. "Or will your star fade so quickly?"
Albert smiled and kissed Chico long and hard. Chico buried his hand in short brown hair and pulled Albert close, sighing in disappointment when he pulled away. "I really must go," he insisted, "but I hope I've laid your fears to rest."
He grinned and released Albert's head. "You have indeed. And now I think I shall lay myself to rest."
Albert laughed as he slipped into his shirt. "Pleasant dreams, Mr de Ville."
"I have no doubt of it," Chico replied, and he was asleep by the time the door closed behind Albert.
Chico drifted around his room, and then around the Kefaro, all afternoon. Few people knew him well enough to understand his moods -- Boy Cameron was perhaps the only person who would have been able to tell that Chico had "got the bite," as Kika would put it. And of course Chico would've denied that he'd been "bit" at all, but the fact remained that Albert Tyburn was the sole object of Chico's meditations that day, and every time a purposeful step sounded behind him, he turned in hope -- and turned away in bitterest disappointment.
Tyburn, for his part, was far too busy that afternoon -- what with his second visit to Emma Fitzgerald and the discovery that her sister's car had been spotted outside Boy Cameron's about an hour after she left the Kefaro -- to give much consideration to the encounter, but whenever he did have a moment to think of it, a wide grin split his features, leaving him looking ridiculously pleased with himself. He fully intended to see Chico again -- eventually -- but not too soon. Not, perhaps, until Lady Daphne's murderer was brought to justice; Chico was, after all, technically a suspect. And Tyburn enjoyed watching him squirm.
Only then he nearly died trying to save a child in the fire at the Indian rug merchant's and arrived at Strachan's surgery to find the doctor dead -- likely murdered. And when he staggered away from the surgery, he knew he was going to stagger directly to Chico's room.
"Albert!" Chico's face flushed as he opened the door to the Superintendent. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be back here today." He took another look at Albert's ashen face and clenched jaw and touched his shoulder. "Albert? Whatever is the matter?"
"There was another fire," he said flatly. "Several of the Indians died. And Strachan's been killed."
"Oh, Albert. How perfectly dreadful." Chico pulled the other man into his arms, and he let himself be held. Even after having known him only two days, Chico suspected that this was a greater surrender than he would normally allow himself. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"God, no." Albert brushed Chico's blond hair away from his face and stared down at him, and Chico had to look away; couldn't bear up under that gaze. Albert moved his hand so it cupped Chico's chin. "Chico," he said quietly, and Chico looked back, and the pain and need there were so great that Chico found himself feeling almost brave. He reached up and pulled Albert's head down, meeting Albert's mouth with his own. Albert stumbled them blindly to the bed and took him with most of their clothes still on.
Day 3
Albert clung fast to Chico until morning, and when they woke they pretended not to see the wet spot on Albert's pillow where he'd cried all night. In the thin early morning light that peeped around the edges of the blinds, he looked much better. He was still drawn around the eyes and mouth, but Chico didn't worry quite so much that he was going to keel over at any moment. If only Albert would look at him, but the Superintendent refused to make eye contact. "Albert," he said, caving to frustration, "look at me."
Albert looked out the window instead. "I'm leaving for Mombassa today. Miss Fitzgerald will be flying me down."
Ah. That explained his skittishness. "All right," he said carefully. "Why?"
Albert shook his head. "I can't tell you that."
"Fair enough." Chico bit his lip. "How long will you be gone?"
"Not more than a day or two, I wouldn't think."
"Well," Chico said, infinitely more casually than he felt, "you know where I'll be when you return."
Albert smiled and finally looked at him. "Indeed I do."
"And, Albert?" Chico raised himself on his elbow as Tyburn crossed to the side of the bed. "Do be careful. Mombassa can be a dangerous place."
Tyburn smoothed his thumb over the other man's cheek and stared down at him. "I'll be fine," he promised.
But he almost wasn't. Because as careful as he tried to be, he couldn't have planned for a fellow officer taking a shot at him, couldn't have planned for the crazed drug smuggler Strachan and Lady Daphne had worked for kidnapping Emma right out from under him. Once he'd convinced Officer Valentine that he was a member of the Kenyan police, they'd rushed off to the pilot's rescue, but he wasn't thinking much of her on the drive to Gesslar's warehouse.
He was thinking that James Valentine was another danger of the kind Tyburn simply did not need: young, handsome, quick-witted, compassionate, and an inhumanly accurate marksman (Tyburn suspected that the phrase "The next one kills you" would echo in his brain for the rest of his life) -- in short, fascinating. He found himself jealous of the time Lady Daphne had spent with the young officer during her stays in Mombassa, and he couldn't help fixating on what Lord Ellesmere's mistress, Kika Trofusis, had said that morning; that, in the last six months of her life, Lady Daphne had "worked her way through all the blades in Nairobi," and wondered morbidly if that extended to the blades in Mombassa, as well.
He shook his head. He'd been on this continent for three days; his boss admitted to having it in for him; he was living with a culture he couldn't understand and a lover he couldn't fathom. The last thing he needed was something else complicating his life.
And yet, once Emma was liberated (and after Valentine shot the cigar out of Gesslar's hand, she landed a perfectly-aimed knee to his groin and another to his chest, and the only help she needed was being untied), damned if Tyburn didn't shake Valentine's hand and say, "If you ever get tired of Mombassa, I'd love to have you in Nairobi." Valentine thanked him so warmly Tyburn felt woozy and wondered if the young officer had understood exactly how the Superintendent would love to have him.
Day 4
Assistant Superintendent Lanyard was waiting for him when the plane returned to Nairobi. The Ellesmeres' houseboy, Mohammed, had died in the night, bitten by an Egyptian cobra that had curled in his bed. Constable Karinde found Lady Daphne's missing pearls in Mohammed's room, and it all seemed far too convenient to Tyburn. Burkitt, great ass that he was, considered the case closed. "I told you there'd be black at the end of it," he crowed. "You were so sure it had to be one of us."
"Oh, it's one of you, sir," Tyburn said. "I just haven't figured out which one yet." Burkitt ordered Tyburn to find Father Grogan's stolen bicycle, and Father Grogan's stolen bicycle led Tyburn to a murderer.
And once again he found himself standing, numbed, in front of Chico de Ville's room. He knocked slowly, heavily, then leaned against the door. When it opened, he swayed, then buckled, falling forward into arms that shouldn't have been strong enough to support him. "Albert!" Chico gasped, dragging him into the room and dropping him into the nearest chair.
"It was Lanyard," he mumbled.
Chico knelt in front of him. "What was Lanyard? Albert, what's going on?"
Albert rose and nudged Chico aside. Chico took the chair Albert had vacated, and Albert took to pacing. "Lanyard was -- he killed her. Lady Daphne. Strachan. Mohammed. He--" His chest hitched. "He shot Karinde."
Chico's fingers flew to his mouth. He never used to give a damn about the natives -- that wasn't the colonists' way -- but Albert Tyburn was changing that attitude in him. "Is Karinde..."
Albert shook his head. "Dr Mueller expects he'll recover fully." He skidded to a halt in the middle of the room. "Lanyard's dead. He was about to..." His voice trailed off, and he lifted his hand as Lanyard had done. "The gun was pointed straight at me, and--" He swallowed. "Karinde shot him in the back."
Slowly, uncertainly, Chico stood, going completely still when Albert's dark eyes darted to him and his hands rose defensively in front of his chest. He held up his hands. "Albert--"
Albert laughed harshly, dropping his hands. "Of course you're unarmed. I just -- dear God, Chico, I knew it had to be one of the colonists, but I never, never, in all the scenarios I considered, imagined that it could be one of my own men. And then he -- he meant to kill me, if Karinde hadn't done to him first. And I--" He let his chin fall to his chest, unable to continue.
"There, there," Chico soothed, taking a step forward, and then another, then taking Albert in his arms. "There, there."
"I'm not a child, Chico," he said.
"Of course you aren't," he agreed. "You are a man who's just come through a ghastly trauma. You're not thinking straight, and obviously you should not be left alone tonight. So I have undertaken to see to it that you are all right, and that you are looked after properly."
The ghost of his old grin crept across Albert's face. "Properly?"
Chico nodded and began unbuttoning Albert's shirt. "I am an expert, Albert. Leave it all to me."
"This rescue sex will have to stop, Chico." Albert caught de Ville's hand and kissed his fingertips.
The other man shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. You're a police officer. Things like this will happen from time to time."
Albert grabbed Chico's other hand, as well, and held them tightly -- almost as tightly as he was holding Chico's gaze. "And when they do -- happen, that is -- will you be here?"
"Every time."
Tyburn took a shuffling quarter-step forward, bringing them even closer together, though Chico would had thought that impossible. "Right here?"
"Right here, Albert," he said softly.
"Then right here is where I shall continue to come," Albert said, and leaned down to kiss him, sweetly, softly, but leaving no room to mistake what he wanted tonight's eventual outcome to be. And as Chico had told him that first day: "Anything for the boys in brown."
Day 5
When Chico woke up half-way and rolled over to where Albert should've been, Albert wasn't. But then Chico heard a rustling by the armoire, and he looked up to find the Superintendent almost completely dressed. "Where are you going?"
Albert looked at Chico's reflection in the mirror. "Karinde's being promoted to Corporal. And then...Lanyard's funeral."
"Oh, God." Chico rubbed his eyes. "I hoped perhaps I'd imagined the whole conversation."
Albert sighed. "I wish you had. I wish we both had."
"So Lanyard really did kill them." Chico shook his head. "But why?"
"Mohammed to frame him; Strachan to steal Lady Daphne's medical records."
"But why kill Daphne in the first place?"
Albert shrugged and went back to knotting his tie. "A lovers' quarrel. The oldest story in the book."
"Lovers' qu-- Lanyard? And *Daphne*?"
So briefly Chico almost missed it, a light sparkled in Albert's eyes. "Stranger things have happened, Chico."
Chico laughed and stretched out across the bed. "They have, indeed." He laced his fingers behind his head and watched Tyburn bustle around the room doing absolutely nothing. "So... Corporal Jonah Karinde." He giggled. "I imagine Burkitt is throwing seven different kinds of fits."
Albert smiled. "He's not thrilled. But -- Karinde saved my life out there. Even Burkitt can't close his eyes to that. If Karinde hadn't been there--"
"Hush," Chico said sharply. "He was. We won't think of the other." A small frown creased his brow. "As I think of it," he began, "it probably wasn't the wisest idea you've ever had; carrying on with me while there was a murder investigation underway. I was a suspect, after all."
Albert smiled and pulled on one of his shoes. "As much as I hesitate to ruin your dreams, Chico, you were never very seriously considered a suspect."
"I should have been," he insisted, sitting up.
Albert pulled on his other shoe and regarded Chico. "I suppose you're right. I mean, if you had been the one to spot Lady Daphne's car outside Viscount Cameron's--"
Chico gasped. "Daphne was at Boy's?"
"I may have underestimated you," Albert said, laughing. "Next time, I'll be sure to be more suspicious of you."
Chico's eyes narrowed. "Why would I care if Daphne were with Boy?"
"Chico." Albert rolled his eyes as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. "You may pop in and out of every bed in Nairobi -- and I imagine you must -- but I suspect that, for all that, there's only one star in your sky, and his name is Viscount Guy Cameron."
"Rubbish." Chico stared at his lap. For a moment he could feel Albert watching him, but he refused to raise his eyes, and Albert walked to the door. "Will I see you later?" Chico asked, eyes still trained on the sheets.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "We'll see." He held the doorknob for a moment, trying to come to a decision, then he sighed and said, "For your own peace of mind, perhaps, it wasn't the Viscount who was Lady Daphne's lover."
Chico raised his eyes, then quickly dropped them again when he saw the look on Albert's face. "No?"
"It was his gun-bearer, Ephraim."
"Ephraim?" Chico repeated, stunned. "My God. A native. No wonder she came undone. And I hear he's missing, now, as well." Albert nodded. "I'm sure plenty of people are going to want to talk with him when he's found."
"A Massai in his own country who doesn't want to be found?" Albert shook his head. "The Viscount said we'll never see Ephraim again, and I'm beginning to believe him. The man's committed no crime; there's nothing he need answer for. If I were him, I'd stay missing for the rest of my life."
"Not unlike a detective we know of who intends, perhaps, to 'stay missing' in Africa for the rest of his life?"
Albert's jaw set. "I killed a man, Chico. I have plenty to answer for."
"Hmm. Perhaps." Chico saw Albert tensing for a fight, and he shook his head. "I'll not judge you, Albert. You do that more than enough yourself." Albert didn't respond, and Chico frowned. "Albert?" The Superintendent raised his eyebrows. "Will Dr Mueller be the police doctor now?"
"With Strachan dead, he'll more or less have to be." Albert shrugged. "Why?"
"No reason." Chico shook his head. "No reason at all. Now, would you be a dear and throw a handful dirt on the coffin for me?"
And that was the usual flippant Chico, so Albert laughed and left the room. Chico settled back down beneath the sheets and tried not to worry about Albert working closely with Emil Mueller, who, while no longer a young man, was highly intelligent and not unattractive. He laughed at himself and shook his head. The legendary Chico de Ville, who had, in fact, popped in and out of nearly every bed in Nairobi, jealous! Of a balding, middle-aged German! Over a police officer! The whole concept was ludicrous and laughable, and he determined to put it out of his mind as soon as possible. He was becoming too attached to Albert Tyburn, that much was certain. He would visit the prostitutes' village, perhaps. Or take another swing at Jan Van der Vuurst -- the boy had a "the lady doth protest too much" attitude that couldn't hold forever.
Chico smiled. Yes, that was what he would do. He slid further under the sheets and piled both of the pillows under his head. Tyburn's scent barely lingered there at all.
END