Children of the Storm

her, would need some motivation, no matter how inconsequential it was, some spark to set him off. And that made Kenneth Blenwell the chief suspect, of course; he wanted Seawatch and all of Distingue. She let her mind wander through the memory of her first meeting with Kenneth and his grandparents, and she became convinced she was right. She would have to speak with Rudolph about it, convince him to be more serious about the possibility of Blenwell's guilt.
        At last, her mind began to return to the same thoughts, as if in a circle, and she knew it was time to get up.
        She showered, dressed, brushed her yellow hair until it shone, then went downstairs for breakfast, shortly past ten o'clock.
        In the small dining room just off the kitchen,
        Rudolph Saine sat before a large plate of bacon and eggs, keeping a watch over Alex and Tina, who were working diligently at stacks of pancakes that were smothered under blueberry syrup. Both kids had bright purple stains around their mouths and purpled fingers, but they had somehow managed not to spot the white tablecloth.
        Sonya said, “They must be good. Either that, or you've just heard that food will be outlawed as of tomorrow.”
        Tina giggled and wiped at her mouth.
        Alex swallowed a mouthful of pancakes in a loud gulp, then said, “Hey, Sonya! Did you know someone wrecked Lady Jane ?'
        His eyes were fever bright, his voice quick and excited.
        She frowned. “Wrecked it?”
        “Chopped a hole in her,” Tina explained.
        “Right in the bottom,” Alex said. “She sank.”
        “You can still see her,” Tina said. “But she's mostly sunk.”
        “Same thing happened to the neighbor's two boats,” Alex said, chattering like a magpie. “Someone chopped holes in 'em.”
        “Sunk 'em,” Tina said.
        “Whoa, there,” Sonya said. “You two are going too fast for me. I can't keep up with you.”
        She looked at Saine.
        He didn't look happy.
        “Is this true?” she asked.
        “Too true.”
        She went to the kitchen door, opened it, saw Helga working on a pie crust at the central table. “When you have time, Helga, would you get me some coffee and maybe a couple of sweet rolls?”
        “Sure, right away,” Helga said.
        “Take your time.”
        Sonya closed the door and went back to the table, sat down across from Saine. “Is it very bad?”
        “Last night,” the big man said, “I told you that Bill was going to boat over to Guadeloupe and get the police. Well, he didn't make it. Someone opened the sea cocks and scuttled the Lady Jane.”
        “Scuttled?”
        “Sank her, flooded her hold.” He forked eggs into his mouth, chewed and swallowed them. “She was down with her keel on the ocean floor and her pilot's cabin barely above the waterline.”
        “A hole chopped in her too?”
        “No, that's Alex being melodramatic.”
        “Being what?” Alex asked.
        Saine smiled. “Eat your pancakes before you wither up from lack of nourishment.”
        Sonya said, “Couldn't the hold be pumped out?”
        “Bill was going to do just that-until he found out that the electric pump was smashed.”
        “A hand pump, then-”
        “He's working on that,” Saine said. “But it'll take two days of steady work to empty out those hundreds of gallons with a hand pump. Anything could happen in a couple of days, anything at all.”
        Bess brought Sonya's coffee and rolls. “You're looking better this morning,” she told Sonya.
        “Feeling better, too.”
        Bess gingerly touched Sonya's bruised neck. “Hurt bad?”
        “Not much. Not so long as I don't turn it too suddenly.”
        “The best thing for that is an onion salve.”
        “Oh?” Sonya said.
        “I make it myself,” Bess explained.
        “I've never heard of that.”
        “It's the best thing for strained muscles which is, after all, about what you have. Strained muscles. The only difference is, in your case, someone else strained them for you.”
        “Onion salve,” Sonya repeated. “I think I'll forgo the pleasure.”
        “I'll make some anyway,” Bess said. “You may change your mind. It really works. Draws the pain right out.”
        “How?” Rudolph asked, smiling at her. “Does the stink make the patient forget about the pain?”
        “Doubting Thomas,” Bess said. “You see if