Some very undesirable people from Australia have recently come here illegally. They are already causing some serious problems.”
“I could be mistaken for one of them,” Peter suggested.
“Yes, exactly, which is one reason why we checked up on you. I suggest that for the present you remain in the Queenstown area and perhaps look up your aunt.”
Peter rose to his feet and held out his hand. “I hope the dead man was one of those you’re after,” he said. As soon as he had spoken, he realized how bad that sounded, but he knew that Winston would understand.
For a moment a shadow seemed to pass across the superintendent’s smooth features, then he spoke very factually. “I wish that were true also, Peter, but it isn’t. He was a police officer.”
CHAPTER 10
It was still early evening when Sergeant Holcomb pulled into the parking lot of the Mountaineer Establishment in Queenstown. He had driven the whole distance, despite Peter’s offer on several occasions to relieve him.
They were cordially greeted at the desk, where Peter was assigned his old room at his request. After a quick shower and some fresh clothes, he went down to the lobby and straight into the dining room. He did his duty by looking around quickly to see if Holcomb was there, then gratefully took a table by himself.
He was indulging in dessert when a tall young policeman came into the dining room. He looked about in a quiet, businesslike manner. He spotted Peter and approached his table. “Mr. Ferguson?” he asked.
“Yes,” Peter answered, indicating the vacant chair at his table. He hoped that in this small community it was clear he wasn’t being busted. He was just about to offer the policeman coffee when a waitress set a steaming cup of tea before his guest instead.
Sergeant Woodley produced a notebook. “Mr. Ferguson, we understand that your late mother was a kiwi—a New Zealander, that is.”
“That’s right, she was.”
Woodley consulted his notes. “There was a lady named Harriet Oldshire who was born fifty-nine years ago in Te Anau. According to records on file, she later emigrated to America.”
A sudden warm feeling flooded Peter and made him anxious for more information. “I’m sure she was my mother,” he said. “Is there anything on file concerning her marriage?”
“No, sir, not here. But our people in Te Anau have located a lady currently living there who is her younger sister.”
An almost totally forgotten, deeply buried memory surfaced in Peter’s mind. “Martha,” he said.
“Yes, sir, that’s what I have here. One of our lads spoke to her earlier today. She confirmed that her sister Harriet had married a man named Ferguson, an American.”
Peter drew a deep breath. “Sergeant, this means a great deal to me. Can you tell me how to reach her?”
The sergeant consulted his notebook once more. “This lady, who would be your aunt, I believe, is Mrs. Martha Glover.” He wrote carefully on a blank page and then tore it out. “Here is her address and telephone number.”
“Did you tell her I was here?”
“No, but she may very well have heard. Almost everyone else has.”
Peter did not know why he had attracted so much notice, but he had no time to concern himself with that. “How close is Te Anau to here?” he asked.
“Quite close. You could easily drive over in the morning.” As a fresh wave of emotion hit him, Peter rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me I think I’d like to try calling her right now.”
“Good luck,” the sergeant said, and picked up his tea cup. Peter went quickly into the lobby, where he picked up a phone and gave his call to the hotel operator. While he waited, he stood very still, letting his mind find its own path.
A richly accented, mature voice came on the line. “Martha Glover here.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Glover. My name is Peter Ferguson, and I believe that I’m your nephew.”
“Peter! Then it’s true! Where are you?”
“In
“I could be mistaken for one of them,” Peter suggested.
“Yes, exactly, which is one reason why we checked up on you. I suggest that for the present you remain in the Queenstown area and perhaps look up your aunt.”
Peter rose to his feet and held out his hand. “I hope the dead man was one of those you’re after,” he said. As soon as he had spoken, he realized how bad that sounded, but he knew that Winston would understand.
For a moment a shadow seemed to pass across the superintendent’s smooth features, then he spoke very factually. “I wish that were true also, Peter, but it isn’t. He was a police officer.”
CHAPTER 10
It was still early evening when Sergeant Holcomb pulled into the parking lot of the Mountaineer Establishment in Queenstown. He had driven the whole distance, despite Peter’s offer on several occasions to relieve him.
They were cordially greeted at the desk, where Peter was assigned his old room at his request. After a quick shower and some fresh clothes, he went down to the lobby and straight into the dining room. He did his duty by looking around quickly to see if Holcomb was there, then gratefully took a table by himself.
He was indulging in dessert when a tall young policeman came into the dining room. He looked about in a quiet, businesslike manner. He spotted Peter and approached his table. “Mr. Ferguson?” he asked.
“Yes,” Peter answered, indicating the vacant chair at his table. He hoped that in this small community it was clear he wasn’t being busted. He was just about to offer the policeman coffee when a waitress set a steaming cup of tea before his guest instead.
Sergeant Woodley produced a notebook. “Mr. Ferguson, we understand that your late mother was a kiwi—a New Zealander, that is.”
“That’s right, she was.”
Woodley consulted his notes. “There was a lady named Harriet Oldshire who was born fifty-nine years ago in Te Anau. According to records on file, she later emigrated to America.”
A sudden warm feeling flooded Peter and made him anxious for more information. “I’m sure she was my mother,” he said. “Is there anything on file concerning her marriage?”
“No, sir, not here. But our people in Te Anau have located a lady currently living there who is her younger sister.”
An almost totally forgotten, deeply buried memory surfaced in Peter’s mind. “Martha,” he said.
“Yes, sir, that’s what I have here. One of our lads spoke to her earlier today. She confirmed that her sister Harriet had married a man named Ferguson, an American.”
Peter drew a deep breath. “Sergeant, this means a great deal to me. Can you tell me how to reach her?”
The sergeant consulted his notebook once more. “This lady, who would be your aunt, I believe, is Mrs. Martha Glover.” He wrote carefully on a blank page and then tore it out. “Here is her address and telephone number.”
“Did you tell her I was here?”
“No, but she may very well have heard. Almost everyone else has.”
Peter did not know why he had attracted so much notice, but he had no time to concern himself with that. “How close is Te Anau to here?” he asked.
“Quite close. You could easily drive over in the morning.” As a fresh wave of emotion hit him, Peter rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me I think I’d like to try calling her right now.”
“Good luck,” the sergeant said, and picked up his tea cup. Peter went quickly into the lobby, where he picked up a phone and gave his call to the hotel operator. While he waited, he stood very still, letting his mind find its own path.
A richly accented, mature voice came on the line. “Martha Glover here.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Glover. My name is Peter Ferguson, and I believe that I’m your nephew.”
“Peter! Then it’s true! Where are you?”
“In
Similar Books
