A Matter of Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

said Neil, pointing, “the one just going down the forward hatch.”
    She squinted. “He’s a
lot
older, if you ask me. And frankly, darling, he looks a bit, well—rough.”
    Now it was Neil who was losing patience. “Darling, it’s not as if we’re going to be photographed for
Town & Country
. We did that
last
year, remember?”
    “No need to get snippy,” she countered, watching the new man disappear below. “I see Dieter was able to find an outfit for
     him.”
    Her husband nodded. “Everything but the white Topsiders, which fortunately he already had. A new pair, in fact.”
    “Good. Let’s go; I’m bored with the Cap.”
    Neil did not respond. Shading his eyes, he watched a launch coming towards them. “I’m afraid, darling, there’s going to be
     one more delay. If I’m not mistaken, that’s the police.”
    It was. In a few minutes Inspector Roland joined them in the cockpit.
    Noting Marcia’s expression, he said, “I’m sure you’re anxious to sail, so I’ll keep this brief. I just wanted to make sure
     that you’ll let us know if you hear
anything
of the boy’s whereabouts. If he contacts you, or you hear from his family—anything at all. Otherwise, we must keep his file
     open.”
    “As it happens, I spoke with his father just before youcame,” Neil informed him. “He hasn’t heard from him, but he’s not too surprised. Apparently the boy’s done this before.”
    “Done what?”
    “Taken off without telling anyone. He’s impulsive, it would seem.”
    The inspector raised an eyebrow.
    “Manic-depressive,” explained Marcia.
    “Oh.” He took out a little notebook and made a note.
    “Inspector,” Neil asked, “what about the woman?”
    “Her name is Toni Remy. She fancies herself an artist and hangs around the Cap in the summertime. I think her family sends
     her money from time to time.”
    “What makes you say that?” queried Marcia, curious to know the policeman’s deductive process.
    The inspector gave a Gallic shrug. “She does not sell many paintings and doesn’t seem to work.” He gazed at the setting sun,
     now a blood-red orb, bisected by the western horizon. “Toni’s not a bad sort, though she has bad taste in men. She has
un penchant
for getting involved with some really
méchants
characters, the worst of whom it was my pleasure to put on ice six years ago.” He scowled. “Hector Vincennes—a dirty man
     in a dirty business.”
    “What business?” asked Marcia.
    “Drugs. But he was a big fish, bigger than most. He’d set up a whole new trade route for heroin, through Algeria and Morocco.
     Fancied himself the new French Connection.” He frowned at the recollection. “Nasty piece of work. He enjoyed the killing part
     more than the dealing part. His victims died slowly, in as much pain as he could inflict.”
    Marcia shivered deliciously, eyeing the inspector with new respect. “And you were the one who put him away?”
    “I should have killed him. Our system is too lenient.”
    The sun was gone now, and above them a mackerel sky was shading towards crimson, magenta, and purple.
    “Well, I must go,” the inspector said, bowing to each of them. “Perhaps in this young man, Toni has finally found someone
     decent.”
    From his launch, he called, “Be sure to let me know if you hear anything.”

6      the impossible dream
    Brother Bartholomew sat on the tiny porch of the Quarry Cottage, eating his supper and trying to enjoy the gathering twilight.
     It was not easy because after a long day of clearing the walking paths, cutting back brush and hauling out the cuttings, he
     was stiff and bone tired.
    And steeped in self-pity.
    Solitude had a way of clarifying things. At home in the friary with all the other brothers, he used to long for it. And sometimes,
     when the sand flats came out at low tide, he would drift out on them for an hour or two, just to be alone.
    But now his solitude was complete. And undisturbed. And unending.
    And what it