The Mystery of the Scar-faced Beggar - M. V. Carey [35]
s an
a t la
l te
t r Er
E nie
i ha
h d cli
l m
i be
b d on
o to
t
o the
h doc
o k,
, and he
h
e
and hi
h s
i
s two
w
o fr
f ie
i nds
s walk
l ed awa
w y
fr
f om
o the
h Ma
M ria
i -III.
Whe
h n the
h y
y were ou
o t
u of
o
f earshot,
the
h thr
h ee
e men pl
p u
l nged in
i to
o a
dis
i c
s uss
s i
s o
i n
o .
. Bob
o
b trie
i d
e to
o wat
a c
t h
the
h m wit
i ho
h u
o t se
s emin
i g t
o.
o
.
The
h men
n gest
s ured
d tow
o ards
s the
h
sh
s o
h r
o e,
, and on
o e po
p i
o n
i t
n ed as
s if
i
f to
o
in
i dic
i ate
tha
h t
so
s m
o ethi
h n
i g
wa
w s
s
app
p r
p oa
o chi
h n
i g dow
o n the
h coa
o st
s fr
f om
o
the
h nor
o th.
h
. Er
E nie
i sh
s r
h ugged an
a d on
o e
e
fr
f ie
i nd cle
l nc
n he
h d hi
h s
i
s fi
f s
i ts
s and wave
v d
hi
h s
i
s ha
h nds
s in
i the
h air
i .
. The
h ot
o he
h r
po
p i
o n
i ted to
o hi
h s
i
s wris
i t
s watch
h and
n ma
m d
a e
so
s m
o e extrem
e ely
l emph
p a
h tic
i st
s at
a eme
m nt t
o
o Er
E nie
i .
Ernie turned away from his two friends at last. They wandered off the pier and back up along the beach to the shabby little house that stood with its face to the highway and its back to the sea. Bob concluded that they were Ernie’s room-mates.
Ernie came back on to the boat and examined Bob’s work with appreciation.
“Very good,” he said warmly.
“You sure talk Spanish like a whiz!” Bob exclaimed. “Your friends, too.”
“It’s my second language,” bragged Ernie. “My friends are from South America.
They aren’t so good with English, so we speak Spanish.”
Bob saw old Mrs. Denicola come out of the house near the parking lot. She was carrying a tray with what looked like a Thermos jug and some cups. Halfway between the house and the little office where Eileen Denicola sat, the old lady looked out to the Maria-III. She saw Ernie and Bob there, with Bob holding the paintbrush, and she paused for an instant. Though he was at least thirty metres away from the old woman, Bob saw that there was tension in her figure.
After a few seconds the old woman went on into the office. A moment later Eileen came out along the pier.
The younger woman wore a rough blue work shirt, open at the neck, with a blue and white bandanna knotted around her throat. She had on faded jeans and worn blue sneakers. She looked confident and also somewhat angry.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be painting the wheelhouse,” she said to Ernie.
She did not raise her voice, but she sounded stern.
Ernie shrugged. “The kid wants to help. He likes painting.”
“That’s right, ma’am,” said Bob. “I do. Really.”
“Okay, but Ernie will do the rest,” she said. “My mother-in-law wants to see you.”
“Me?” said Bob.
“She’s in there.” Eileen gestured towards the office. “I don’t know what it’s about, but she sent me to get you. Give Ernie the brush and come along.”
Bob surrendered the brush and followed Eileen Denicola towards the office. She turned back to tell Ernie to be ready to take the boat out right after lunch. “Don’t be late,” she warned. “We’ve got to go to Kelleher’s and get gas. There will be forty-three people here at seven tomorrow morning and we won’t have time then.”
“Yes, Mrs. Denicola,” said Ernie, and he began to paint faster.
Bob smiled. Obviously Eileen Denicola was used to being obeyed. She marched in front of him now with her red hair bouncing at every step. Old Mrs. Denicola came out of the office to meet them.
“We will go to the house,” said the older woman. She gestured to Bob. “You, young man, you come with me.”
Bob followed her to the house, wondering what was going on. She led him into a living room that had a stiff, rather foreign air, with great high-backed armchairs and a long, very ugly sofa.
“Sit down.” Mrs. Denicola pointed to a chair that stood at right angles to the sofa.
They both sat. The old woman folded her hands in the lap of her black dress. Then she looked at Bob with eyes that were