Angel Death by Patricia Moyes

Author:Patricia Moyes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Felony & Mayhem Press
Published: 2019-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

COMING BACK FROM St. Mark’s on the Pride, Emmy had noticed that the sunshine had taken on a curious metallic quality, which gave the usually friendly land and seascape a sinister harshness. During the afternoon, following her unhappy conversation with Sir Alfred Pendleton, this brassy unreality deepened until it almost matched the nightmare going on in Emmy’s mind.

There was no consolation to be had from the Colvilles because they were far too busy, and Emmy was grateful that she was coopted without question to help in the hurricane precautions. At such a time, it was merciful to be kept occupied and not bothered with questions.

As it was, the Colvilles and Emmy and the skeleton staff of the Anchorage worked hard and fast, with a transistor radio always at hand giving out the latest weather bulletins. In the office, a big chart was spread out and pinned to the desk, and over it a bold line in marker-pen ink traced Alfred’s progress as he made his inexorable way across the last miles of the Atlantic Ocean toward the slender string of islands that form the eastward boundary of the Caribbean Sea.

Sheets of plywood were brought out from the garden shed, sawed into segments to fit over north and east windows, and then battened into place with long nails driven through transverse exterior beams. Margaret and Emmy assembled quantities of candles and matches, which they stored in the kitchen. They also filled every available receptacle with drinking water—jugs and saucepans as well as jerricans.

“There won’t be any lack of water,” Margaret explained, “but we rely on an electric pump to get it up from the cistern, and the electricity will be the first thing to go.”

“Surely,” Emmy said, “we can draw water up from the cistern in buckets.”

“Until the cistern cracks and the water either runs out or gets polluted,” said Margaret. “You’ll find a couple more casseroles in the back pantry. Best fill them.”

Glass windows on the south and west sides—the lee sides of the building—were crisscrossed with adhesive tape, so if they did blow out there would be less danger of flying glass. Stacks of tinned food were brought down from the storage shed to the main hotel building, where Emmy and the Colvilles proposed to take shelter. Outside, vulnerable objects such as wheelbarrows and stepladders were upturned, laid flat, and where possible tied down. The jeep was parked so as to be out of range of any tree or building that might fall on it. All the time, as the sinister sunlight faded, the wind grew stronger, and black clouds came crowding in from the east.

The radio kept up its unending stream of information. St. Matthew’s Golf Club had mobilized its entire fleet of launches as well as its helicopter to ferry members to St. Mark’s for evacuation by air. Many guests from the Harbour Prospect Hotel had already left the island—all available aircraft were running a shuttle service to San Juan to airlift visitors to safety. All

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