The Lamorna Wink Read Online Free PDF Page A

cascades of notes up and down the keyboard, swaying to the music. He couldn’t play the piano. But he could take lessons. That sounded a worthwhile project. How long would it take to learn? It would be worth it to drown out Agatha. He left the room and walked back downstairs and into the living room, the first room Esther Laburnum had shown him. Passing the portrait of the old man, he wondered if he was the patriarch of this family but couldn’t quite match him up with them. The others were so smilingly beautiful. He picked up the silver-framed photograph, saddened again by the terrible fate of the children.
    The double door opened suddenly. He reeled.
    The Uninvited!
    No, merely his cabby, saying, “I’m really sorry to interrupt you. It’s just that Shirley—she’s the dispatcher—is on about needing the cab to go to Mousehole.” Apologetically, he held out his arms and shrugged.
    â€œOh, quite all right. I’m finished. Let’s go.”
    Â 
    As they drove away, Melrose turned for one last glimpse of the house. “It’s quite a place. I’m thinking of renting it. Tell me, who’s the old man in the portrait? He doesn’t seem to go with the rest of it.”
    â€œThat’s Morris Bletchley.”
    Melrose was surprised. “Bletchley? His family is related to the village somehow?”
    â€œI guess there have been Bletchleys here forever. Funny, as he’s American himself. He’s the chicken king.”
    â€œThe what?”
    â€œHaven’t you ever eaten in Chick’nKing? They’re all over. It’s a chain.”
    Melrose thought for a moment. “I guess I’ve seen them along some of the A-roads. You mean, Seabourne belongs to him? Mr. Chick’nKing himself?” Melrose was a trifle disappointed. Chickens. How unromantic. “Now I see the reason for that chicken painting.”
    â€œNever saw that, but it sounds about right.” Johnny negotiated a blind turn on the hedge-enclosed and narrow road.
    Melrose sighed. “Well, I suppose it’ll keep me from getting soppy. Chickens. Good lord!”
    â€œYou don’t strike me as the soppy type at all.”
    Melrose felt obscurely flattered. He started to take out his cigarette case, but stopped. “Mind if I smoke?”
    â€œNot me. Long as you give me one. I know it’s hell for my lungs, but . . .”
    Melrose passed the case and Johnny took one, still with his eyes on the road. Melrose lit both cigarettes and sat back, comfortably watching the dense woods pass by. “Tell me, how many jobs do you have?”
    â€œOh, three, I guess. Four, if you count the magic.” Puzzled, Melrose said, “I’d be glad to count it. What do you mean?”
    â€œI’m an amateur magician, that’s all. I really love it. My Uncle Charlie used to be a professional. Now he has a magic shop in Penzance. Every once in a while I do an act up at the Hall. That’s a kind of hospice-nursing-home place. I’m not bad.”
    â€œI believe it.”
    â€œThe other jobs, they’re only part-time. We’re winding down now from the tourist season.”
    â€œWell, how else could you handle them except part-time? And what do you do in the jobless off-season months? Tutor at Oxford?”
    Johnny laughed. “Not likely. Next term I’m hoping for a grant. Scholarship. It’s why I work so much. To pay for whatever the scholarship doesn’t cover.”
    â€œWhat about your family?”
    â€œThere’s only my Aunt Chris. Chris Wells. She owns that tearoom, you know, the Woodbine. Oh, and there’s Charlie, my uncle, but I don’t see him much. Chris is partners with Brenda.”
    â€œBrenda?”
    â€œBrenda Friel. She’s tops. Her daughter used to baby-sit me.”
    â€œBaby-sit you ? You sure it wasn’t the other way round?”
    Johnny laughed, then said more soberly, “It was years ago.