Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

“Or if he was out by the cliffs, maybe he seen the
sheep killer and was chasin’ after,” said another.
“What about that squirrely new fella?” the fisherman
said. “The one who’s camping.”
My father straightened on his barstool. “I ran into
him,” he said. “Two nights ago.”
I turned to him in surprise. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I was going to the chemist, trying to catch him
before he closed, and this guy’s headed the other
way, out of town. In a huge hurry. I bump his shoulder
as he passes, just to ruffle him. He stops and stares
at me. Trying to be intimidating. I get in his face, tell
him I want to know what he’s doing here, what he’s
working on. Because people here talk about
themselves, I say.”
Kev leaned across the bar. “And?”
“He looks like he’s about to take a swing at me, but
then just walks off.”
A lot of the men had questions—what an
ornithologist does, why the guy was camping, and
other things I already knew. I had only one question,
which I’d been itching to ask. “Did you notice anything
strange about him? About his face?”
My father thought for a second. “Yeah, actually. He
had on sunglasses.”
“At night?”
“Weirdest damn thing.”
A sick feeling came over me, and I wondered how
close my father had come to something far worse
than a fistfight. I knew I had to tell Miss Peregrine
about this—and soon.
“Ah, bollocks,” said Kev. “There ain’t been a murder
on Cairnholm in a hundred years. Why would anyone
want to kill old Martin, anyway? It don’t make sense. I’ll
bet you all a round that when his autopsy comes back,
it says he was arseholed right into the next century.”
“Could be a tidy spell before that happens,” the