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.It might have been okay if they’d been discussing the slave ship.But Rick had asked about the Kima the Monkey books.He would say things like, “Did you do one on Kima and the Cranky Coelacanth?”That totally hilarious comment sent Splint’s mom into gales of giggles.Then she would say something equally hysterical like, “How about Kima and the Elusive Eel?”Then they’d both guffaw.It was enough to make a kid want to hurl.After lunch, Rick drove them through the rain to his apartment where he could use his telephone to call Hunky.The apartment was pretty cool.It was small with bare white walls and a couple of chairs, a little square table, and a twin bed.Splint wouldn’t have thought much of the place, but Rick had filled his shelves with all kinds of wonderful artifacts—everyone of them labeled and tagged.“I do not believe we will go home to Uchungu House today,” Hannah said, assessing the storm through Rick’s big window.“The ocean is very rough.The waves are big.”“Maybe we’ll just stay here with Rick until it blows over,” Splint said.“It would be okay to spend the night here, wouldn’t it, Mom?”“No, sweetheart.If we have to stay, we’ll take a hotel room.”“Aw, Mom! Rick wouldn’t mind.”“Splint.” Her voice held that note of warning.“Look, Mom, this has been the worst day of my entire life, okay? I mean, I’m expecting a tidal wave any minute.And you and Rick take me to eat curry.And the treasure ship turns out to be a slaver.And now you’re telling me—”“Someone’s knocking on the door, Splint,” she said.“Now, answer it, please, and stop your griping.”“Or I’ll give you something to gripe about,” he finished under his breath.Moms didn’t have a clue.They really didn’t.He pulled open the door.Two tall African men stood in the hallway, the shoulders of their uniforms splattered with raindrops.The one in front studied Splint for a moment.“Spencer Thornton?” he asked.Splint backed up.“Yeah.”“We will take you to the police station in Zanzibar.You must give your fingerprints to check for the possibility of murder.”FIFTEEN“This is a ten-year-old boy,” Rick said to the policemen who had stepped into his apartment.“He’s capable of a lot of things.The murder of Ahmed Abdullah bin Yusuf isn’t one of them.First of all, he and his mother weren’t even in this country until several months after the artist’s death.Second, he’s not strong enough to have won out in a struggle with a grown man.”“Yes, Bwana, but Mrs.Cameron gave us a report that the boy discovered the container on which the blood of Dr.bin Yusuf was found.Was this not a true statement?”“It is true, but—”“I didn’t do it!” Splint shouted.“I didn’t kill anybody!”Jess took her son’s arm and pulled him against her.She could feel the trembles of fear radiating through every muscle in his body.Nestling him close, she ran her hand over his thick brown hair.“Sir, my son is a child,” she told the officer.“You’re frightening him.I’m sure you can tell he couldn’t possibly—”“Madam, we are searching for the person who committed the murder of one of Tanzania’s premier artists.Of course we do not have any reason to suspect your son.But if the boy touched the container that was used in the crime, his fingerprints will be evident.We must record and study them in order to distinguish your son’s prints from any others on the murder weapon.Surely you can understand why this is necessary.”“I didn’t do it!” Splint hollered.“Mom, tell them I didn’t kill anybody.”“They don’t think you did it, Splint.” She wrapped her arm around his chest, holding him tightly against her.“Sir, this is a Sunday afternoon.How did you even find us here?”“Solomon Mazrui told us you had gone to Dar es Salaam to the church of Daniel McTaggart.”“Solomon!”“He works for you, does he not?”“He’s my gardener.”“We went on the police boat to Dar es Salaam, and we questioned the minister, Bwana Daniel McTaggart.He directed us to this flat.Now we are eager to return to our headquarters in Zanzibar with this boy.Will you and your son come with us to the police boat, Ms.Thornton?”“In this kind of weather?” Rick interjected.“You can’t possibly take a little police boat safely across twenty-two miles of raging ocean.Why don’t I drive Spencer to the Dar es Salaam police headquarters and get them to record his fingerprints? Then you can ferry the information over to Zanzibar whenever you want to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]