2 Game Drive by Marie Moore Page A

might encounter a crocodile.”
     

 
    Chapter 7
    T hat old goosey feeling got me again when I returned to the hotel. It grabbed me as I entered my room with the spare key card and hit the light switch.
    Nothing looked out of place, and there was no one in the room but me, so why did I feel uneasy? Why did I feel that someone sinister was there, or had been there? Was it just the knowledge working on me that a stranger had snagged a key to my room? How would they even know what my room number was? The key card wasn’t labeled, and the hotel had many rooms.
    Had the draperies over the French door been moved? Was the balcony door locked? Were my things as I had left them?
    I turned on every light in the room and thought about calling Jay, but he was still out partying. Besides, I knew he would only laugh and call me a ninny.
    All seemed to be okay. The room was immaculate. The housekeeper had done her job. There were fresh towels, soap, and tons of toiletries. The bed linens were neatly turned back and a mint and the weather forecast had been placed on the pillow.
    Nothing seemed to be wrong or unusual. The stuff in my suitcase looked undisturbed. Nothing seemed to be missing. There was no one in the closet, or the bathroom, or under the bed, and when it all checked out I was glad I hadn’t called in the cavalry.
    Nevertheless, I couldn’t shake the creepy, completely irrational feeling that someone had been there, pawing through my things and invading my space.
    “Go to sleep, Sidney,” I told myself as I turned off the bedside lamp, “and try not to be so silly.”
    * * *
    David warned us all about pickpockets the next morning as we drew near Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve.
    Jay nudged me. “Heads up, Sidney,” he whispered.
    “Hush! I can’t hear what he is saying because of you.”
    “These are unusual pickpockets, ladies and gentlemen,” David said. “They are easy to spot because they’re all wearing fur coats.”
    “What?” asked Connie. “Did you say fur coats? Who?”
    David beamed, glad that someone had taken the bait. He chuckled at his own little joke.
    “Yes, indeed I did. Short-haired fur coats. You see, my dears, the Cape area is positively infested with Chacma baboons. Baboons! Troops of them. They are known to be purse-snatchers, particularly if there is food in the bag. They have even been known to attack tourists for candy bars in their pockets. So whatever you do here, ladies and gentlemen, do not get off this bus bearing food of any kind. The baboons don’t even have to see the food. They have a keen sense of smell, and if they can smell it, they will attack. They are strong and quick and have long, sharp teeth. Not nice or cuddly at all.”
    “Oh, my,” said Wendy, her eyes rounder than ever, “is it safe to even get off the bus?”
    “Yes, indeed it is, of course it is, but one must be careful.”
    Wendy and Tilda put their heads together and spent the rest of the ride into the park planning baboon defense.
    The rest of us just enjoyed the scenery as we neared Cape Point, following the paved road as it twisted along the jagged, windswept coastline to the farthest tip of the Cape Peninsula. The land was covered in a hardy scrub called fynbos, an Afrikaans word meaning “fine bush.” These fine-leaved, low bushes of the heath are a favorite of the Cape grysbok, and I spotted a grazing antelope, carefully picking its way on long legs among the rocks. It kept a watchful eye, raising its head often as it delicately nibbled the low, tough vegetation. The grays and greens of the rocky, arid landscape formed a dramatic contrast to the vivid blue sky. Now and again I caught a glimpse of a deserted beach far below the roadway on our right.
    For the full-day excursion, we were all traveling together in a big bus. The plan was to visit Cape Point and the adjacent Cape of Good Hope Nature Park, then return to Cape Town via Simon’s Town. The tour also stopped at a