Circle of Bones - Kling Christine (полная версия книги txt) 📗
“Riley, Theo and I should be out there running a grid right now.” He half-turned and pointed out to where Bonefish and Shadow Chaser lay anchored. “I know for damn sure we’re not going to find a submarine in the village. We’re blowing what little lead we’ve got. You check the village. I’m going back to the boat.”
She stood her ground, her hands on her hips. “Cole Thatcher, you are the most stubborn man I have ever met. One hour. That’s all I ask.”
He crossed his arms high on his chest and glared at her. “Stubborn? Riley, look in the mirror.”
“Fine,” she said. “Do whatever you want. I’m going to ask around.” She turned and started walking. Before long, she heard his footfalls coming up behind her. She started to smile just before his hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She opened her mouth to protest, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her face in the hollow of his neck.
Chin resting on her head, he said, “Oh Miss Maggie Magee.” She could feel his chest bounce as he laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Us. I might be stubborn, but I’m not foolish enough to let you walk out on me. Come on. Let’s get this excursion over with. There’s one thing I know for certain. We work better as a team than we do when we’re knocking heads, to quote Theo.”
She leaned back and looked up at him. “You do have a way of making teamwork very pleasurable, Dr. Thatcher.”
Cole framed her face with his hands. “Okay, this time, we do it your way. One hour. But you’ll owe me, Magee. And I have some very specific ideas on how to make you pay up.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “I might have to tap my savings account. After all, I’ve been saving it for a couple of years.”
“I think I’ll put you on a regular installment plan,” he said as he ran his hands down her arms and then up under her T-shirt. “But frequent unscheduled payments will help –”
She swatted his hand away. “Town?” she said. “Submarine? Remember?”
He whirled on his heels and took off down the road, his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, whistling the tune, “We’re Off To See The Wizard.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Scott’s Head Bay, Dominica
March 30, 2008
12:05 p.m.
When the colorful clapboard houses gave way to a few sundry shops, Riley knew they were in the “downtown” of Scott’s Head village. Another ten minutes of walking and they’d be through it. Ahead, she saw a couple of wood tables on the front porch of a house. When they got closer, she saw the sign Ma Bert’s Restaurant. She climbed the steps and knocked on the door frame.
“Hello?” she called out.
Cole stood in the street, his back to her, one hand on his hip. He was staring out at his boat.
From inside a voice sang out. “I be right with you.”
Seconds later a large woman emerged from the back of the house. As she passed down the hall, she filled the space with her bulk. Riley stood aside as she stepped through the doorway. She was wearing an orange plaid jumper over a bright yellow blouse and in the mid-morning sunlight, Riley squinted against the glare.
“Good afternoon,” the woman said. There was something off about her island accent. It didn’t sound quite real. “Would you like to eat?” She waved a hand with a flourish in the direction of the two empty wood tables.
“I was wondering if you could answer a couple of questions for me.”
“All right.” The sing-song quality of the woman’s voice sounded too extreme.
“Have you lived here long?”
Little lines appeared between the woman’s eyebrows when she noticed the marks on Riley’s neck, but then she pasted the smile back on her face. “Yes,” she said drawing the word out. “Why do you ask?”
“We’re looking to talk to someone about something that happened here during the Second World War. In 1942.”
The woman reached for one of the laminated menus that rested on the table and she began to fan herself. “Do you mind if I sit down?” The sing-song quality to her voice was gone. It had lowered almost an octave and her accent now sounded more like the deep south than the islands. She eased herself into the chair.
Riley pulled out the other chair and sat across from her. She heard Cole cough several times out in the street.
“That’s better,” the woman said. “Whew! Nineteen forty-two. That’s a long time ago.” She stuck out her hand. “Eugenia Bert.”
Riley introduced herself and they shook. “It’s for this research project we’re doing,” she said.
The woman leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Did he do that to your face?”
Riley smiled. “No, it wasn’t him.”
“Well, that’s good then. As you can tell,” Eugenia continued, “I didn’t grow up here. My daddy was from Dominica, but I grew up in St. Mary’s, Georgia. Inherited this place. Tourists want the real thing, so I try, but this island life is getting to me.” She fanned herself harder. “What I wouldn’t give for a Big Mac.”
Riley heard a sigh from out in the street, and the woman sitting across from her glanced out at Cole’s back.
“Hmm. Not on island time, is he?”
Riley smiled and shrugged as if to say, you know men. “We are in a hurry, though. If you don’t know anyone —”
“Now, hold on. I didn’t say that. Everybody knows everybody round here.”
“So you can help me?”
“Sure. Hmm. Old timers. Start with the Charles family. They live up King Street here in the blue house with a plumeria tree out front. Name of the house is Parrot Perch. You’ll see the sign. Old Mr. Charles is in his eighties. Then, let’s see, there’s Mr. Jules, he’s the oldest, I believe. Lives right across the street from Mr. Charles. The two of them been friends a long time. No wait, I think I heard Mr. Jules married into that family after the war. His wife died just last year.”
Riley stood. “I’ll start with Mr. Charles. Thanks.” She backed her way off the porch while Eugenia kept throwing names her way.
“Then there’s the Shillingford family that lives up in the valley. Now don’t rush off. I don’t get many folks coming to visit.”
Riley said, “Sorry, we’ve got to go,” as she went down the steps.
“Come on,” Cole said when her feet hit the street. He took her hand and started off at a trot.
Over her shoulder Riley called out, “Thanks Ms. Bert. You’ve been a big help.”
After they had gone about fifty yards, she grabbed Cole’s arm and pointed to a sign. It read King Street. “Look. Turn up there.” On the side street, the incline increased. They slowed to a fast walk up the steep hill.
The houses were all painted bright colors and next to the door frames, some of the houses had signs with names. She read them out loud as they passed.
The electric blue house would have been difficult to miss. Again, the door stood open and Riley bounded up the stairs and knocked on the door frame. This time the man who came to the door had very dark black skin that contrasted with his close-cut gray hair. There was no doubt about the origin of his lilting voice. He nodded.
“How d’you do,” he said.
“Mr. Charles?”
“Yes, how may I help you?”
She felt Cole’s eyes on her back, so she jumped right in this time. “My partner and I are here on the island doing some research on a submarine that may have sunk in this area in the second world war. Did you live here at that time?”
“Ah. You must be looking for my father. I’m sorry. He’s in hospital in Rouseau at the moment.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. I was born here during the war, but I don’t remember it. Still, I haven’t heard about any submarines, and I’ve lived here for sixty-five years. I wish I could be of more help to you.”
“Thanks for your time.”
When she reached the street, Cole crossed his arms across his chest and said, “Is that it?”
She looked across the street at the yellow house, then up the street with houses that stretched for another quarter mile before giving way to the jungle on the side of the mountain. Hidden in the clouds above them was Dominica’s Soufriere volcano. She didn’t answer him. She understood his urgency, but she couldn’t explain it to him. James Thatcher had been so precise about everything else, he would not have sent them to search a five square mile area for a submarine. He wanted them in Scott’s Head, not Soufriere Bay. And Mikey did, too.
