Frank Hardy, an eighteen year old, six foot one male, grinned down at the sleeping form of his year younger, inch shorter, brother, Joe. Frank reached down and and took hold of the quilt which lay just above Joe's bare feet and covered him to his neck. His grin grew wider as he pulled the quilt off of the sleeping youth.
The early morning chill sent an immediate shiver to Joe's system and his deep blue eyes flew open. "Give it back!" Joe demanded, reaching for the quilt in Frank's hands.
"Uh-uh," Frank replied, shaking his head and causing a lock of brown hair to fall over one eye as he stepped out of Joe's reach. "Our plane leaves in six hours and we have a long trip to the airport," Frank stated. "Get up and get ready. Dad wants us to leave in less than three hours."
"Three hours!" Joe repeated, pushing his touseled blond hair out of his eyes so he could glare at his brother. "I can sleep at least another hour."
"Don't you want to go for a last walk around the place?" Frank asked, his brown eyes twinkling because he already knew the answer.
"An hour's sleep versus a walk in sandy woods in a place with no entertainment, no traffic laws, no other tourists, and no one who can speak English except our hosts," Joe debated, his voice laced with heavy sarcasm. "Hard decision but, well, set the clock," Joe ended, sitting up far enough to snatch back his quilt.
Joe lay back down and curled up, covering himself from head to foot with his quilt. Frank shook his head, set the alarm for his brother and left the room. He exited the house through the kitchen, hearing the morning stirrings of their hosts as they prepared for the day.
Outside, Frank inhaled deeply of the fresh morning air. He understood why Joe had disliked the location their father had chosen for their annual family vacation. It was a remote small village, hours away from the town where they had arrived. The people here spoke only Haitian Creole, so communication was all but impossible for Joe. Frank, who had taken two years of French in high school, could make out some of the words, but not enough to hold a conversation.
There was no public transport and driving anywhere was a major risk as there were no traffic laws. But then, as Joe had pointed out when they had arrived, what did you expect from a place where a driver's license was given to anyone who could afford one?
Frank knew why his father had accepted the invitation of Dr. Duvalier, an old college friend, to stay at his plantation for two weeks. His father, a former member of the NYPD and currently the most sought after private investigator in the world, had been working almost non-stop for the past year. Even Frank and Joe, detectives in their own right, had been unable to take a vacation for the past year without getting involved in another case.
Here, so far removed from civilization, all the Hardys could relax with out fear of being drawn into a new investigation. The past two weeks had been quiet and peaceful. Even the drumming which had kept the boys awake their first night at the plantation had become common place and was no longer an interupption to the tranquillity.
Frank decided to stroll down to where the sandy terrain gave way to rocky incline. The island, for the most part, was a pitiful sight. Soil erosion was evident everywhere and the once forrested island was close to being a desert. But the Duvalier plantation was still flush with vegetation.
Frank smiled, his thoughts on a certain blond-headed, green-eyed girl as he made his way along the path. For the past two years Frank had been dating seventeen year old Callie Shaw. He was looking forward to seeing her again. If only she could have come along this vacation would have been perfect. Unlike Joe, who enjoyed going to parties, movies and sporting events, Frank preferred the quiet life. A roaring fire, a good book or a friend to talk to and he was perfectly happy. He didn't enjoy being alone but he never had cared for large crowds.
Frank stood still and watched as the sun began to rise above the small mountain in front of him. He was going to miss this place. If only he could stay for a few more weeks, he would be more than happy to go home. He just wasn't ready to give up the comradery he had established with his surroundings.
Frank reached the base of the mountain then moved along the path to take another route back. Joe would be waking soon and breakfast would be waiting. Reluctanly, he started back.
Halfway to the main house, Frank heard three male voices in what seemed to be a heated argument. Since the speech was so fast, Frank could understand nothing of what was being said, but he thought it prudent to take a look and make sure the argument, if that was indeed what was occurring, did not get out of hand.
As Frank neared the threesome, his foot came down on a twig which snapped and alerted the three to his presence. "Je regrette," Frank said, attempting to apologize for the intrusion.
The three men stared at Frank, the one man on the right with straight black hair and a thick mustache, growling, "S'en aller."
Frank gave the three men an apologetic grin and backed off. Obviously, he had been mistaken about the argumentive nature of the conversation.
The early morning chill sent an immediate shiver to Joe's system and his deep blue eyes flew open. "Give it back!" Joe demanded, reaching for the quilt in Frank's hands.
"Uh-uh," Frank replied, shaking his head and causing a lock of brown hair to fall over one eye as he stepped out of Joe's reach. "Our plane leaves in six hours and we have a long trip to the airport," Frank stated. "Get up and get ready. Dad wants us to leave in less than three hours."
"Three hours!" Joe repeated, pushing his touseled blond hair out of his eyes so he could glare at his brother. "I can sleep at least another hour."
"Don't you want to go for a last walk around the place?" Frank asked, his brown eyes twinkling because he already knew the answer.
"An hour's sleep versus a walk in sandy woods in a place with no entertainment, no traffic laws, no other tourists, and no one who can speak English except our hosts," Joe debated, his voice laced with heavy sarcasm. "Hard decision but, well, set the clock," Joe ended, sitting up far enough to snatch back his quilt.
Joe lay back down and curled up, covering himself from head to foot with his quilt. Frank shook his head, set the alarm for his brother and left the room. He exited the house through the kitchen, hearing the morning stirrings of their hosts as they prepared for the day.
Outside, Frank inhaled deeply of the fresh morning air. He understood why Joe had disliked the location their father had chosen for their annual family vacation. It was a remote small village, hours away from the town where they had arrived. The people here spoke only Haitian Creole, so communication was all but impossible for Joe. Frank, who had taken two years of French in high school, could make out some of the words, but not enough to hold a conversation.
There was no public transport and driving anywhere was a major risk as there were no traffic laws. But then, as Joe had pointed out when they had arrived, what did you expect from a place where a driver's license was given to anyone who could afford one?
Frank knew why his father had accepted the invitation of Dr. Duvalier, an old college friend, to stay at his plantation for two weeks. His father, a former member of the NYPD and currently the most sought after private investigator in the world, had been working almost non-stop for the past year. Even Frank and Joe, detectives in their own right, had been unable to take a vacation for the past year without getting involved in another case.
Here, so far removed from civilization, all the Hardys could relax with out fear of being drawn into a new investigation. The past two weeks had been quiet and peaceful. Even the drumming which had kept the boys awake their first night at the plantation had become common place and was no longer an interupption to the tranquillity.
Frank decided to stroll down to where the sandy terrain gave way to rocky incline. The island, for the most part, was a pitiful sight. Soil erosion was evident everywhere and the once forrested island was close to being a desert. But the Duvalier plantation was still flush with vegetation.
Frank smiled, his thoughts on a certain blond-headed, green-eyed girl as he made his way along the path. For the past two years Frank had been dating seventeen year old Callie Shaw. He was looking forward to seeing her again. If only she could have come along this vacation would have been perfect. Unlike Joe, who enjoyed going to parties, movies and sporting events, Frank preferred the quiet life. A roaring fire, a good book or a friend to talk to and he was perfectly happy. He didn't enjoy being alone but he never had cared for large crowds.
Frank stood still and watched as the sun began to rise above the small mountain in front of him. He was going to miss this place. If only he could stay for a few more weeks, he would be more than happy to go home. He just wasn't ready to give up the comradery he had established with his surroundings.
Frank reached the base of the mountain then moved along the path to take another route back. Joe would be waking soon and breakfast would be waiting. Reluctanly, he started back.
Halfway to the main house, Frank heard three male voices in what seemed to be a heated argument. Since the speech was so fast, Frank could understand nothing of what was being said, but he thought it prudent to take a look and make sure the argument, if that was indeed what was occurring, did not get out of hand.
As Frank neared the threesome, his foot came down on a twig which snapped and alerted the three to his presence. "Je regrette," Frank said, attempting to apologize for the intrusion.
The three men stared at Frank, the one man on the right with straight black hair and a thick mustache, growling, "S'en aller."
Frank gave the three men an apologetic grin and backed off. Obviously, he had been mistaken about the argumentive nature of the conversation.