Read Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 04 - Any Port in a Storm for Free Online Page B

pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. “And we care why?”
    “They were out at the college this afternoon,” Scoobie said, looking at me and ignoring George’s question.
    “The college!” I realized I had spoken too loudly when the rest of the room got very quiet. “Sorry,” I said to Joe, who had stopped pouring hot water into a small teapot for a customer.
    “Brainchild,” George said. “You gotta learn how to keep it down.”
    I started to retort, but Scoobie kept going. “They were in the cafeteria. It was two girls and two boys,” he said, “and one of the boys looked older than high school age.”
    “Ooh boy,” George said. “And I repeat, why do we care?”
    “Did Alicia see you?” I asked Scoobie, also ignoring George’s question.
    “Yep. I gave her the universal sign for call me.” He held his hand to his ear as if holding a telephone receiver.
    “You don’t have a phone in your room,” George said, as if this would be news to Scoobie.
    “She knows I wasn’t being literal. She’ll find me.”
    “That means she got in a car with those kids,” I said slowly.
    “And…?” George said.
    “Megan’s worried because Alicia’s hanging out with new kids, and she isn’t getting home on time sometimes,” Scoobie told him.
    “Getting in a car is different than hanging out on the boardwalk,” I said. “We’re going to have to tell Megan.”
    “Aren’t you kind of overreacting?” George asked.
    “I don’t like being a tattletale, but if Scoobie didn’t recognize the boys…”
    “Jolie, I’d agree with you if I’d seen them under the boardwalk,” Scoobie said.
    “Your favorite place,” George said.
    “Don’t remind me. The thing is,” Scoobie turned more directly toward me, “Megan probably doesn’t know she was out there, but if they were really sneaking around they wouldn’t be in the cafeteria at the college.” When I didn’t say anything, he added. “Give me a day. If she doesn’t find me I’ll find her.”
    I nodded slowly, “Okay.” I pointed to George’s map, and he quietly told Scoobie what the red and blue Xs meant. I saw Joe Regan straining to hear and caught his eye and gave him a four-finger wave, something I learned from one of Aunt Madge’s B&B guests last spring. Joe gave me a smirk.
    “So, what are you going to do about it?” Scoobie asked George.
    “Start keeping an eye on some of the houses. There’s only,” he looked at his map, “nine. And I don’t think Morehouse knows about all of them. I talked to all the real estate agents,” he said, in answer to my questioning look. “The police wait for the agents to call, and they won’t all call the cops. They don’t want to call attention to how easy it is to get in the houses.”
    “And you’re, like, going to knock on the door and interview a bunch of housebreakers?” Scoobie asked.
    “Yeah, right,” George said. “I’m not Jolie. If it looks dangerous, I’ll call the cops.”
    Perhaps sensing my irritation, Scoobie took a folded square of paper from his pocket and laid it on the table.
     
    There once was a wench, Jolie.
    A landlubber, not of the sea.
    With her mate she was done.
    Needs a new number one.
    A role for a pirate must be.
     
    George laughed so hard he knocked over his coffee.
     
    “YOU PUT THE TWO OF them together and it’s like the Stooges minus Moe.” It was turning into a very long day. I’d been to the courthouse and had trouble finding records of sales that would support the price on Lester’s sales contract, and was in the Purple Cow, taking a short break before going to the last house I was to visit that day. Roland has free coffee for customers, and the Purple Cow is closer than Java Jolt. And I’m a customer. Sometimes.
    “You know they like to get on your case,” Ramona said. She was carefully changing the toner in the copier, trying hard not to get any of the dry ink on her skirt. Ramona favors the styles of the late 1960s or early 1970s and makes most of