Die Again Read Free Page A

why you hired me.”
    “To keep us from ending up as dinner.”
    “I wouldn’t get paid if I lost too many clients.”
    “How many is too many?”
    “You’d only be the third.”
    “That’s a joke, right?”
    He smiles. Though he’s about the same age as Richard, a lifetime in the African sun has etched lines around Johnny’s eyes. He lays a reassuring hand on my arm, which startles me because he’s not a man who offers unnecessary touches. “Yes, it’s a joke. I’ve never lost a client.”
    “I find it hard to tell when you’re serious.”
    “When I’m serious, you’ll know it.” He turns to Clarence, who’s just said something to him in Shangaan. “Supper’s ready.”
    I glance at Richard, to see if he’s noticed Johnny talking to me, Johnny’s hand on my arm. But Richard’s so focused on Vivian that I might as well be invisible.
    “I T ’ S WHAT WRITERS HAVE to do,” Richard predictably says as we lie in our tents that night. “I’m only bringing in new readers.” We speak in whispers, because the canvas is thin, the tents close together. “Besides, I feel a little protective. They’re on their own, just two girls out in the bush. Rather adventurous when they’re only twenty-something, don’t you think? You have to admire them for that.”
    “Elliot obviously admires them,” I observe.
    “Elliot would admire anything with two X chromosomes.”
    “So they’re not exactly on their own. He signed on to the trip to keep them company.”
    “And God, that must get tiresome for them. Having him hanging around all the time, making cow eyes.”
    “The girls invited him. That’s what Elliot says.”
    “Invited him out of pity. He chats them up in some nightclub, hears they’re going on safari. They probably said, Hey, you should think about coming into the bush, too! I’m sure they never imagined he’d actually sign on.”
    “Why do you always put him down? He seems like a very nice man. And he knows an awful lot about birds.”
    Richard snorts. “That’s always so attractive in a man.”
    “What is the matter with you? Why are you so cranky?”
    “I could say the same about you. All I do is chat up a young woman and you can’t deal with it. At least those girls know how to have a good time. They’re in the spirit of things.”
    “I’m trying to enjoy myself, I really am. But I didn’t think it would be so rough out here. I expected—”
    “Fluffy towels and chocolates on the pillow.”
    “Give me some credit. I’m here, aren’t I?”
    “Complaining all the way. This safari was my dream, Millie. Don’t ruin it for me.”
    We’re no longer whispering and I’m sure the others can hear us, if they’re still awake. I know that Johnny is, because he’s on first watch. I imagine him sitting by the campfire, listening to our voices, hearing the rising tension. Surely he’s already aware of it. Johnny Posthumus is the kind of man who misses nothing, which is how he survives in this place, where hearing the tinkle of a bell on a wire means the difference between life and death. What useless, shallow people we must seem to him. How many marriages has he watched fall apart, how many self-important men has he seen humbled by Africa? The bush is not merely a holiday destination; it’s where you learn how insignificant you truly are.
    “I’m sorry,” I whisper, and reach out for Richard’s hand. “I don’t mean to spoil this for you.”
    Though my fingers close around his, he doesn’t return the gesture. His hand feels like a dead thing in my grasp.
    “You’ve put a damper on everything. Look, I know this trip wasn’t your idea of a holiday, but for God’s sake, enough of the glum face. Look how Sylvia and Vivian are enjoying themselves! Even Mrs. Matsunaga manages to be a good sport.”
    “Maybe it’s all because of these malaria pills I’m taking,” I offer weakly. “The doctor said they can make you depressed. He said some people even go insane on