Read Online Conquering Kilmarni by Hugh Cave - Free Book Online
Authors: Hugh Cave
Tags: Action & Adventure
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door shut again.
In the kitchen he broke two eggs into a bowl and whipped them up with a fork, then took a frying pan from a rack on the wall and turned to the stove. The stove ran on propane gas that his father had to bring up in tall cylinders from Morant Bay.
He lit one of the burners and scrambled the eggs, then poured a glass of milk. It wasn't like the milk you bought in supermarkets back in the States. Kilmarnie was too far from any such markets for that to be practical. Mom had suggested they buy powdered milk and mix it with Kilmarnie's water, which they knew was pure because they'd had it tested. Miss Lorrie, of course, now made it that way.
With the eggs and milk Peter ate two slices of Jamaican hard-dough bread. He had just finished breakfast and was sitting at the kitchen table, still thinking, when Miss Lorrie arrived.
"Me sorry to be late," she said. "Me truly am, Peter. But me did have to find out something."
"It's all right, Miss Lorrie."
She put down the sisal bag she always carried and took his dishes to the sink, but after turning on the water she swung around to speak to him again. "Zackie did come, Peter?"
He shook his head.
"Has you any idea where him is?"
Again Peter shook his head. "I wish I did."
She looked at him in silence for a few seconds, frowning as if she were not sure she should say any more. Then she turned to shut off the water and came to the table and sat down facing him. "Peter," she said, "the police are looking for him."
"What?"
"Some tiefing is going on in Mango Gap, Peter." Miss Lorrie seemed to be choosing her words with care. "Some houses are being broken into while people not at home. Someone is tiefing food and money and other things. The police are looking for Zackie to question him."
"Zackie wouldn't do—" As a certain picture flashed through his mind, Peter fell silent. The picture was of Zackie Leonard almost knocking him off his feet while racing out of that village shop, and of the Chinese proprietor yelling, "Stop, thief!" as he rushed, too late, from behind the counter. "Why—why do they think it's Zackie who is doing it?" he finished in a more subdued tone.
"Well, him is a boy with troubles, even if we like him and sorry for him. That don't make him a tief, of course, but it natural for the police to think him might be the one doing this, Peter."
Peter realized he didn't know much about the police in Jamaica. There was a two-story building in Rainy Ridge with a station on the ground floor and a courthouse above it. In charge of the station was a Corporal Buckley, and there seemed to be three or four men under him. Peter saw the corporal on horseback sometimes—he certainly could ride that horse of his—and sometimes saw him riding around with one of his men in a police Land-Rover, which was a four-wheel-drive English vehicle like an American Jeep.
Suddenly aware of what the housekeeper was really saying, Peter looked at her in alarm. "Will the police be coming here, Miss Lorrie?"
"Most likely them will, Peter. Me do wish you could find Zackie and warn him, because maybe him is only hiding from him daddy and don't yet know the police are after him."
Wondering if he should wake his father, Peter went upstairs. Mr. Devon was already up and taking a shower, he discovered to his relief. That was a good sign, for Kil marnie's hot water was pretty cold at this hour. There hadn't been any hot water at all until Mr. Devon had rigged up a solar-heating system on the roof. But the plantation water came from just under Blue Mountain Peak, the highest point on the island, and the sun had to be real high and hot to warm it.
Showered and dressed, Mr. Devon looked like a new man when he came striding into the living room at last. He really was a handsome man, Peter realized. Mom had always insisted he was, and she'd been right, even though she was undoubtedly prejudiced.
Hoping his father would know some way to help, Peter told him about the trouble Zackie was
In the kitchen he broke two eggs into a bowl and whipped them up with a fork, then took a frying pan from a rack on the wall and turned to the stove. The stove ran on propane gas that his father had to bring up in tall cylinders from Morant Bay.
He lit one of the burners and scrambled the eggs, then poured a glass of milk. It wasn't like the milk you bought in supermarkets back in the States. Kilmarnie was too far from any such markets for that to be practical. Mom had suggested they buy powdered milk and mix it with Kilmarnie's water, which they knew was pure because they'd had it tested. Miss Lorrie, of course, now made it that way.
With the eggs and milk Peter ate two slices of Jamaican hard-dough bread. He had just finished breakfast and was sitting at the kitchen table, still thinking, when Miss Lorrie arrived.
"Me sorry to be late," she said. "Me truly am, Peter. But me did have to find out something."
"It's all right, Miss Lorrie."
She put down the sisal bag she always carried and took his dishes to the sink, but after turning on the water she swung around to speak to him again. "Zackie did come, Peter?"
He shook his head.
"Has you any idea where him is?"
Again Peter shook his head. "I wish I did."
She looked at him in silence for a few seconds, frowning as if she were not sure she should say any more. Then she turned to shut off the water and came to the table and sat down facing him. "Peter," she said, "the police are looking for him."
"What?"
"Some tiefing is going on in Mango Gap, Peter." Miss Lorrie seemed to be choosing her words with care. "Some houses are being broken into while people not at home. Someone is tiefing food and money and other things. The police are looking for Zackie to question him."
"Zackie wouldn't do—" As a certain picture flashed through his mind, Peter fell silent. The picture was of Zackie Leonard almost knocking him off his feet while racing out of that village shop, and of the Chinese proprietor yelling, "Stop, thief!" as he rushed, too late, from behind the counter. "Why—why do they think it's Zackie who is doing it?" he finished in a more subdued tone.
"Well, him is a boy with troubles, even if we like him and sorry for him. That don't make him a tief, of course, but it natural for the police to think him might be the one doing this, Peter."
Peter realized he didn't know much about the police in Jamaica. There was a two-story building in Rainy Ridge with a station on the ground floor and a courthouse above it. In charge of the station was a Corporal Buckley, and there seemed to be three or four men under him. Peter saw the corporal on horseback sometimes—he certainly could ride that horse of his—and sometimes saw him riding around with one of his men in a police Land-Rover, which was a four-wheel-drive English vehicle like an American Jeep.
Suddenly aware of what the housekeeper was really saying, Peter looked at her in alarm. "Will the police be coming here, Miss Lorrie?"
"Most likely them will, Peter. Me do wish you could find Zackie and warn him, because maybe him is only hiding from him daddy and don't yet know the police are after him."
Wondering if he should wake his father, Peter went upstairs. Mr. Devon was already up and taking a shower, he discovered to his relief. That was a good sign, for Kil marnie's hot water was pretty cold at this hour. There hadn't been any hot water at all until Mr. Devon had rigged up a solar-heating system on the roof. But the plantation water came from just under Blue Mountain Peak, the highest point on the island, and the sun had to be real high and hot to warm it.
Showered and dressed, Mr. Devon looked like a new man when he came striding into the living room at last. He really was a handsome man, Peter realized. Mom had always insisted he was, and she'd been right, even though she was undoubtedly prejudiced.
Hoping his father would know some way to help, Peter told him about the trouble Zackie was
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