Maurice & Friends

Betty gazed across the lake from her chair on the comfortable porch fronting her cabin. It was later than usual. She had difficulty sleeping in the night. This time the culprit was a dream of Shane walking toward her with their children and swinging her in his arms, in the sheer joy of being with her. The dream had been wonderful but terribly poignant - her subconscious making note of the fact that this was a time far gone and not to be regained. She glanced at her watch. It was 6:30 am, plenty of time for Tarzan to be launched in his boat for his daily fishing excursion. She scanned the horizon but didn’t see him. In the evening when he failed to come ashore with the day’s catch, she asked the native fishermen where he might be. They grinned and shrugged.

Lachlan greeted me when I arrived home. His countenance was one of mischief mingled with pleasure.

“We are visiting a friend this weekend. I want you with me. I am taking a long weekend before Cate (Ocelot-Leoparde) gets too pregnant to take my case load for a few days,” he laughed as he led me to the porch where he had drinks and appetizers set out for our evening ritual.

“And where are we going?” I asked merrily, popping a cheese biscuit in my mouth. “This is yummy, Lachlan. Did you make them?”

“Yes, they’re from my own recipe and to answer your question, we are going to see our friend Betty in Tanzania.”

“You know her exact location?”

“Of course I do, Maury. She’s my patient and being very proud of her, I want to see how she is doing. We are both invited. She is picking us up at the airstrip. Ashley is flying us there.”

“Well, you have been busy as a bee making plans, I see,” I chortled, with genuine happiness.

“I have indeed. Just play it cool at work so the big boy won’t guess your plans. Of course I realize, he is too damn self absorbed to concentrate on much of anything but Kenya and his own personal bullshit.”

Lewis Lyon’s humongous construction, our new Banana Republic store, opened on one corner of his extensive mall. This will be run by a conglomerate headed by his wife, Gina Genet Lyon who owns two other successful couturier boutiques in her husband’s complex. A reception was held for the opening, hosted by Lewis and Gina. Lachlan and I were invited. It was a gala evening. I saw Ashley Lyon with Simone Serval. Shane appeared late with a pale Johanna Delacroix by his side. We saw Ralph and Mildred Lyon with Lewis’ mom, Doris Lyon, whose usual flowered shower cap stretched starchily across her head. Lewis could have cared less as he gave her a giant hug and kiss.

Our new Banana Republic...

below: Ralph and Mildred Lyon at the reception....

Shane Simba and Johanna Delacroix at the same reception.........

The day before we left for the Gombe district, Dr. Frank Tigeres called Lachlan for a chat in his office at the Exotic Animal Clinic.

“Lach,” he began, pouring him a cup of hot coffee from a thermos on his desk. “I am going to tell you something in strictest confidence because I think so highly of you and know that the ramifications will be felt psychologically sooner than later. I’m sure you will be called to the case at some point. I don’t want you to be caught unawares and am giving you a copy of our research findings for your perusal and safe keeping,” said Frank, handing Lachlan a manila folder filled with clipped papers.

The great tiger physician went on to tell the lion psychiatrist that it had been substantiated scientifically that President Shane Simba had fathered a natural child with Johanna Delacroix. That she was pregnant as they spoke and living with Shane.

“Holy Shit!” exclaimed Lachlan as Frank added a bit of brandy in his coffee to lessen the shock.

Betty’s Jeep was parked next to the tarmac as Ashley Lyon skillfully landed and taxied in that direction. She was waving excitedly as we exited the Cessna and ran to greet her en masse. Ashley couldn’t hang around but hugged his dear friend and ex-wife and bid us all goodbye, telling us he would fetch us at the same spot on Sunday. He had brought her cigarettes and luxury supplies, among them good cognac and more Scotch. Before he flew off, he had shared with Betty a few scoops concerning his reconnection with Simone Serval. They had a good laugh about her being the one that had busted up their marriage. This no longer mattered, of course. Much turbulent white water had flowed beneath the bridge since then.

“He looks sort of happy, doesn’t he?” she asked as she shaded her eyes from the sun and watched his plane ascend into the clouds.

“So do you, Betts, and absolutely stunning as well,” I enthused. She most certainly did.

“You look wonderful, Betty and I can’t tell you how proud of you I am,” said Lachlan, holding her hands.

Her eyes misted but then she invited us to jump in her jeep. We took off on the steep and winding roads through the Mahale Mountains that ring Gombe.

We got comfortably settled in the upstairs bedroom of Betty’s home. By the time we had arrived, the sun was in the last stages of its fiery journey over the lake. The water was brilliant with color, streaked from the approaching sunset. We joined Betty on her veranda with the stunning view of Lake Tanganyika. We sat with our drinks, Betty smoking her cigarette. The three of us were the picture of contentment.

“Oh, he’s back,” she enthused, standing to get a better view of the boats being shored on the pebbled beach.

“Who might we be referring to?” asked Lachlan.

“His name is Tarzan. He sells me fish from time to time. He hasn’t been on the beach for a couple of days. I was a bit worried.”

As if on cue, a lion walked toward us, shouldering a canvas bag. He approached the porch and looked up.

“I’ve got grouper,” he stated fatly.

“Were you sick?” she asked.

“No. Do you want the fish?”

“These are my close friends,” Betty told him.

He glanced at us in a perfunctory manner, his tawny eyes resting more on Lachlan than me.

“Maurice Monkee and Lachlan Lion - Lachlan is from Tsavo,” she emphasized, probably to elicit conversation from the decidedly taciturn lion.

“I respect the lions in Tsavo – great hunters and warriors. I can’t stand here all night, do you want the grouper?” declared Tarzan.

Lachlan got up and made his way down the stairs. He inquired of the lion as to the price of the grouper, paid and thanked him.

“I wish you’d join us for dinner, Tarzan,” invited Betty.

“Can’t do it,” he said, closing the flap on the canvas bag.

He turned and made his way down the beach veering left into some heavy brush.

“He’s a male of few words,” noted Lachlan.

“He is that,” agreed Betty. “By the way, he’s just an acquaintance, not a lover. I buy fish from him and he took me to the local wine maker where I bought two cases of very adequate wine. I'm serving some with tonight's meal.”

“You probably don’t need another liaison at the moment, Betts,” I chuckled.

“Tarzan is not a believer in the interspecies marriages and sex games in the Mara. He’s a native Kenyan and left when Ralph outlawed the killing of prey animals by all,” she informed us.

“I, on the other hand, am a lion who is a great believer in the new age in Kenya,” said Lachlan, giving my arm a squeeze.

Simone Serval ran squealing through the surf in Mombasa, Ashley Lyon in hot pursuit. He caught up with her and pulled her down with him, getting on top and giving her a mock hump and a kiss.

“Ash,” she giggled, delightedly. “There could be paparazzi here.”

“In that case, I’ll remove your bikini and have my way with you,” he laughed.

Paw in paw, they walked the path to his house and made their way to the master bedroom. They were alone this weekend. They made love until they noticed the fading light and realized it was nearing sundown.

Shane Simba sat gazing into the thorn scrub on the savanna near his retreat. He was reclining on a chaise, double Scotch in paw. Johanna had retired for her afternoon doze, being in the first drousy trimester and happy as a clam that she was pregnant and finally vindicated by scientific research on whatever she was carrying in her womb. His cell phone was by his side. It gave its special ring tone. He answered hoping it was Jane.

“President Simba,” said the voice of the detective he had hired. “We found her.”

“Come back when you grow up and can withstand the rigors of a crumbling marriage and its aftermath. I don’t think you’re ready for us yet,” declared Trevor Tau, to a desolate Leah Simba Lyon.

“Trevor, I’m just a bit sad about Ash having taken up so quickly with that actress,” she snapped, lighting a cigarette.

“Until you don’t mind that he is seeing someone else as you have already done, be prepared to grieve alone. I don’t have time to join you. I have patients dying every day with malaria.”

Betty was preparing a Bloody Mary for a midday treat. Ashley had brought Absolut Vodka when he returned for Lachlan and me. She brushed an invasive fly from her face and squeezed a lime.

‘”Betty,” a voice said just behind her.

She knew without looking who owned the voice. Her breath caught suddenly, her throat went dry. Her heart skipped a beat, and then fluttered wildly in her chest, giving a sharp short stabbing pain - all in the space of a few moments. She turned slowly. There he stood, his tall, graceful form silhouetted by the noon sun, the dark mane catching flecks of dancing light. She caught the scent of his Dolce & Gabanna cologne on the faint breeze that stirred through the open windows and door.

“How did you find me, Shane?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t with all the powers of my office available to me?” he asked, shifting position slightly. “You look so beautiful you almost stop my heart.”

She started to protest that statement but realized he looked stricken and slightly off center.

“I’m forgetting my manners, do sit down. I’ll make you a drink. Let your guards come in too. They’re probably hungry and thirsty.”

“I’m alone.”

“That’s different,” she murmured.

“Do you have Scotch?”

“Yes.”

She managed to make her way to the chair where he sat without spilling his drink though her hands were shaking badly. She sat across from him and lit a cigarette, hands still trembling.

“Shane, you can have your divorce with no protests from me and no properties or alimony. I trust Bo conveyed that to you.”

“Yes and I have stalled it on purpose.”

She didn’t want to get to that subject at the moment. Her mind still reeled with the unexpectedness of his being there.

“How are the children? I miss them, believe it or not.”

“The twins are too young and okay for the moment. Solly misses you terribly.”

“I’d love for you to send him here for a visit, now that you know where I live.”

“Betty, I wouldn’t dare be so bold and absolutely ridiculous as to make you try to believe how much I have realized my wrongs - but it’s the truth. I only ask that I be able to come with him sometime. I miss you so damn much. I’ve gotten myself in a terrible mess as usual. Will you be my friend for now? I badly need one. I swear if you are kind enough to allow it, there will be no misuse.”

He seemed desperate but as for change, she had her doubts. She sat and looked at him, imprinting his image for a later review. She had never loved him more. What an idiot you are, Betty, she scolded herself, easy target time in the Gombe district…. chimp research at its worst – conducted by an abusive lion.

Shane finds Betty in Tanzania......

Finally, he had left, disappearing down the beach in the same madcap fashion as Tarzan. He had wanted to hold her but she refused an embrace, using all her will power to resist falling into his welcoming arms. After he had walked a long stretch, becoming a speck on the horizon, she got her binoculars and focused on one of the smaller government aircraft waiting for him a mile or more away. She sat on the porch and collapsed, tears falling down her face unchecked. She must have sobbed rather loudly at times.

“I hate to see the grouper drowned in tears of woe. They’re the best I’ve caught this week...salt doesn't become them,” announced Tarzan, standing just below her porch with his canvas bag.

She wiped her eyes hastily, using the hem of her shirt and made her way down the stairs. She fished the money from her pocket and handed it to him.

“I recognized the guy who left here today. I do keep up with things in the world. I’ve seen his picture a dozen times on the front pages of African news rags.”

She looked at him, not answering but with the sure knowledge that seeing her present demeanor he knew that Shane Simba had been more than just a friendly caller.