Read Online Conquering Kilmarni by Hugh Cave - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Hugh Cave
Tags: Action & Adventure
Ads: Link
the garage for an office. It was more convenient than using a room in the house, and still it provided the necessary shelter in case of rain.
It was his custom to set up a table there about three o'clock, at which time Mr. Campbell would come and sit with him to go over the weekly work sheets. Mr. Campbell would read off the amount of money due each worker, and after putting that amount in an envelope, Mr. Devon would write the worker's name on the envelope.
With planting going on, there would be more than the usual number of people coming for their money this time, and Mr. Devon had suggested that Peter might help by writing the names on the envelopes. So the three of them—Mr. Devon, Mr. Campbell, and Peter—were seated at the table, getting ready for the arrival of the workers, when the police Land-Rover came down the driveway and stopped.
Out of it stepped a tall man in his thirties, with red stripes on his dark blue pants. Like every other policeman Peter had seen in Jamaica, he looked like an athlete. That, Dad said, was probably because of the rigorous training they all had to go through at Fort Charles. To be a policeman one had to have a certain amount of schooling, too, and a clean record.
The man had parked the Land-Rover where the garage would hide it from anyone coming down the driveway. Now he approached the table and stood stiffly at attention, as if he were about to salute. Mr. Devon stopped putting money into envelopes and looked up at him.
"Good afternoon, Corporal. What can I do for you?"
"I am looking for someone, Mr. Devon."
Peter felt himself start to shake, but only the slightest of frowns appeared on Mr. Devon's face. And Dad's voice betrayed nothing at all as he said, "Looking for whom, Corporal?"
"Someone who works for you. The boy named Zackie Leonard."
"Zackie? May I ask why?"
"To question him. There has been some stealing going on."
Mr. Campbell, too, had stopped working on the paybill now, and both men simply sat there, calmly gazing up at the tall policeman. Mr. Campbell was taking his cue from Dad, Peter realized. Stay calm. Look normally curious but not anxious.
"Are you saying Zackie has been stealing, Corporal?" Mr. Devon asked quietly.
"Well, sir, he's been reported for stealing before."
"I see. But you have nothing tangible to go on."
Corporal Buckley moved his shoulders in a shrug.
"Very well," Mr. Devon said. "If all you want to do is talk to him, I have no objection. But if your plans include more than that, I'm entitled to see some sort of warrant or court order, am I not?"
The corporal's face changed. "What, sir?"
"I'm not too familiar with the rules here," Mr. Devon said mildly. "But I can't believe it's proper to drag a person off to jail simply because you think he might be the thief you're looking for."
The corporal did not look pleased. But before he could speak in anger, if that was what he meant to do, Mr. Campbell leaned across the table and motioned to catch his attention.
"Look, Corpie," Mr. Campbell said. "What Mr. Devon is afraid of is you making a whole lot of trouble with so many workers here. It would cause a big commotion, if you see what I mean. Why don't you just stand back over there, sort of out of the way, and see if young Leonard actually does come for his money. That way all the other workers won't be wondering what's going on."
The corporal looked around, as if trying to decide where to position himself.
"Over there by the veranda steps would be a good place," Mr. Campbell said.
The corporal turned and walked to the foot of the steps. He was still standing there straight as a flagpole when Mr. Devon and Mr. Campbell and Peter finished getting the pay envelopes ready, and was still there, though not quite so much at attention, when four o'clock came and the workers began to arrive.
Some came in groups, others alone. One at a time they stepped up to the table for their envelopes, then moved away to take out the money to count it.
Before
It was his custom to set up a table there about three o'clock, at which time Mr. Campbell would come and sit with him to go over the weekly work sheets. Mr. Campbell would read off the amount of money due each worker, and after putting that amount in an envelope, Mr. Devon would write the worker's name on the envelope.
With planting going on, there would be more than the usual number of people coming for their money this time, and Mr. Devon had suggested that Peter might help by writing the names on the envelopes. So the three of them—Mr. Devon, Mr. Campbell, and Peter—were seated at the table, getting ready for the arrival of the workers, when the police Land-Rover came down the driveway and stopped.
Out of it stepped a tall man in his thirties, with red stripes on his dark blue pants. Like every other policeman Peter had seen in Jamaica, he looked like an athlete. That, Dad said, was probably because of the rigorous training they all had to go through at Fort Charles. To be a policeman one had to have a certain amount of schooling, too, and a clean record.
The man had parked the Land-Rover where the garage would hide it from anyone coming down the driveway. Now he approached the table and stood stiffly at attention, as if he were about to salute. Mr. Devon stopped putting money into envelopes and looked up at him.
"Good afternoon, Corporal. What can I do for you?"
"I am looking for someone, Mr. Devon."
Peter felt himself start to shake, but only the slightest of frowns appeared on Mr. Devon's face. And Dad's voice betrayed nothing at all as he said, "Looking for whom, Corporal?"
"Someone who works for you. The boy named Zackie Leonard."
"Zackie? May I ask why?"
"To question him. There has been some stealing going on."
Mr. Campbell, too, had stopped working on the paybill now, and both men simply sat there, calmly gazing up at the tall policeman. Mr. Campbell was taking his cue from Dad, Peter realized. Stay calm. Look normally curious but not anxious.
"Are you saying Zackie has been stealing, Corporal?" Mr. Devon asked quietly.
"Well, sir, he's been reported for stealing before."
"I see. But you have nothing tangible to go on."
Corporal Buckley moved his shoulders in a shrug.
"Very well," Mr. Devon said. "If all you want to do is talk to him, I have no objection. But if your plans include more than that, I'm entitled to see some sort of warrant or court order, am I not?"
The corporal's face changed. "What, sir?"
"I'm not too familiar with the rules here," Mr. Devon said mildly. "But I can't believe it's proper to drag a person off to jail simply because you think he might be the thief you're looking for."
The corporal did not look pleased. But before he could speak in anger, if that was what he meant to do, Mr. Campbell leaned across the table and motioned to catch his attention.
"Look, Corpie," Mr. Campbell said. "What Mr. Devon is afraid of is you making a whole lot of trouble with so many workers here. It would cause a big commotion, if you see what I mean. Why don't you just stand back over there, sort of out of the way, and see if young Leonard actually does come for his money. That way all the other workers won't be wondering what's going on."
The corporal looked around, as if trying to decide where to position himself.
"Over there by the veranda steps would be a good place," Mr. Campbell said.
The corporal turned and walked to the foot of the steps. He was still standing there straight as a flagpole when Mr. Devon and Mr. Campbell and Peter finished getting the pay envelopes ready, and was still there, though not quite so much at attention, when four o'clock came and the workers began to arrive.
Some came in groups, others alone. One at a time they stepped up to the table for their envelopes, then moved away to take out the money to count it.
Before
Similar Books
