Mystery in the Moonlight

by Lynn Patrick

  “All right,” she said, preceding him out the door. Caitlin realized that she could probably get away from Lars and sneak over the side. Getting to land might be rough, but she was a strong swimmer. The thought was tempting, but then again, she didn’t want to get the crazy old sailor into trouble. “What do we do first?”

  “There are fish to be cleaned!”

  What else?

  The cat followed her out of the cabin, dancing around her feet as though he’d understood Low Tide Lars. Since Calico Jack was supposed to be so clever, being able to open doors and such, maybe she could teach him to clean the fish.

  It was after dark by the time Bryce finished what he’d had to do on St. Lucia and was ready to head back to the Sea Devil He flashed a code using a lantern one of the men had left for him on the Marigot Bay dock, the signal that he was ready to be picked up. He spotted the return signal coming from the ship and, a minute later, heard the sound of an outboard motor in the distance.

  Bryce looked down at the scattered packages around his feet and wondered if anyone would think it odd that their captain had gone on a shopping spree while supposedly attending to serious business. Damn Ralph Hodges. If the man had been home like he should have been, Bryce wouldn’t have been forced to go all the way into Castries to find him. And then he wouldn’t have stopped at the little cluster of boutiques that catered to tourists to buy some clothes for Caitlin.

  Of course, buying her the shorts and Tshirts had been a practical move—those pants he’d almost ripped off her had been too large, anyway. They made her look like a waif. And the hat was mandatory as a shield against the West Indies sun, the slicker against the colder nights at sea. Unfortunately he hadn’t stopped there. And if the swim suit had been a little impractical, he wasn’t sure what he’d call the dress. At the time he’d had some stupid idea of how the different shades of blue would bring, out the color of her pretty eyes.

  Why should he have noted the color of Caitlin’s eyes so clearly when he’d had her pinned down to the deck? Bryce now wondered. Especially when all her writhing under him had set him to thinking about other things. And now the rum he’d consumed—the rum that was supposed to make him immune—made him think about how he’d wished he hadn’t been teasing when he’d intimated that he was going to make her do more than mend his shirt to keep her occupied.

  Why should he have been teasing her at all? Bryce asked himself angrily.

  The sound of the outboard motor cut into his thoughts as the skiff approached the dock and turned to come up alongside him.

  “Evening, Captain,” Thomas said, throwing Bryce a line.

  “Thomas.”

  Bryce carefully handed the lantern and the packages to the deckhand before gingerly getting into the skiff, bringing the line with him. It wouldn’t do to let the crew know that their captain had had one too many. Ralph and he had discussed the situation with Moreau over a few tots, and Bryce had had another for good measure when he’d thought about Caitlin waiting for him in his cabin. Even if she did look like a street urchin, she certainly didn’t feel like one. How was he going to handle her?

  “Shopping, Captain Winslow?” Thomas asked, looking from the packages to Bryce.

  What he could see of the black man’s face by lantern light was merely that his expression was strange, but whether it was because Thomas smelled the rum fumes on his boss or because the pink-and-yellow bags were obviously from a ladies’ boutique, Bryce couldn’t tell.

  “I had to go into Castries to find Ralph, so I picked up a few things I needed.”

  Thomas grinned and said, “Anselm was beginning to worry about you. He was threatening to leave the Sea Devil and come after you himself.”

  “Good thing he didn’t,” Bryce replied. “I’d have skinned him alive if he’d let our hostage escape.”

  Thomas grinned even harder, looked like he was going to say something, but didn’t. Instead he adjusted the throttle so that the skiff moved out, then turned in a large semicircle and headed back toward the ship.

  “Did Ralph agree to take the message to Moreau?” Thomas finally asked.

  “No problem. He hates the bastard as much as the rest of us. He agreed that a telegram could be traced and we might be confronted where Moreau would have the upper hand. So he’ll sail in the morning, and we’ll rendezvous back in the Grenadines in several days. Hopefully our plan will work, and Moreau— being the sneaky bastard he is—will follow Ralph. He’ll fall right into our hands.”

  Bryce knew he should be happy that they at last had a feasible plan to trap the Frenchman, but somehow he couldn’t feel the satisfaction he’d been sure it would bring him. Besting the bastard by uncovering his activities and taking away the man’s fortune wouldn’t bring his younger brother, Ned, back. But it would have to do unless he could somehow prove that Jean Moreau had either murdered Ned or been responsible for his death.

  Having put himself in a morose mood, Bryce was silent even after they came alongside the Sea Devil. All he could think about was getting some sleep before his shift, at which time they’d head south toward the Grenadines. Remembering the packages and Caitlin, he groaned. Undoubtedly he was in for another confrontation—unless presents made her grateful enough to behave. That woman had spirit, he thought wearily.

  Bryce yawned as he trudged across the deck, fumbling in his pocket for the key. But when he got to the door, he found it open. All traces of exhaustion were gone immediately. Throwing the packages down on the table, he stalked to the head.

  “Caitlin, come out!” But she wasn’t in there. “Damn! Who unlocked the bloody door?” he muttered, heading back for the deck.

  She’d probably jumped overboard and, in swimming to shore, had drowned. Either that or she was safe and had already sent a message to Moreau, neatly thwarting his plans.

  But he’d barely managed to get outside his cabin when he froze at the sight before him.

  “Yo ho ho and a bottle of—hic!—rum,” Lars sang, weaving across the deck. “Find me a woman…”

  Caitlin was keeping up with him, trying to pry a bottle loose from the old sailor’s hand. “Come on, Lars. You’ve had enough now. Give me the bottle so you have some left for tomorrow.” Amazingly Lars let her take it from him. “I’ll help you back to your cabin.”

  “Missy, you’re a lovely girl, just like my daughter. Did I ever tell you about my daughter?”

  “No, but you can tell me all about her tomorrow after you get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Got to repair one of the sails tomorrow. Sails, snails, nails…”

  Bryce was still staring as Caitlin helped steady the drunken old man down the narrow ladder. Why was she being so nice to one of his crew? About to go after her, Bryce stopped when Anselm’s voice found him in the dark.

  “Don’t worry none about the girl, Bryce. She’s not going to jump overboard. I heard her tell Lars she was going to sleep on deck again. I’ll watch her.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, mon. Better get some sleep before your watch.”

  “Good idea. Good night, then.”

  Trudging back into his quarters, Bryce began stripping off his clothes, leaving them lying where they dropped. Why wasn’t his bed made properly? he wondered with a yawn, noting the loose covers on one side and the lump in the middle. Then he remembered that he’d thrown Caitlin on the bed earlier. Naked except for his Jockey shorts, he was lifting the covers when he became aware of a foul odor.

  “What the hell?”

  With one fluid motion he stripped the covers and found the mangled remains of a dead fish smack in the middle of his bed.

  “Caitlin!” he shouted loud enough to make the ship’s timbers reverberate.

  He’d wondered how she’d try to get even with him. Now he knew. Well, she wasn’t going to get away with it! He was tired, tipsy, and not about to change his own bedding. Ignoring his own state of undress, he stalked back to the entryway and threw open the door, rushing out before it even ha
d time to bang against the wall.

  He immediately spotted her fixing up the mat she’d used the night before. “Caitlin O’Connor, get in my cabin right now!” Bryce shouted as he approached her.

  “Forget it. I’m too tired.”

  “Into my quarters before I drag you by your hair!” he warned her, stopping a mere foot away. “We have a score to settle—in my bed, if you know what I mean!”

  The men were staring now, but Bryce was oblivious to everything but the slender woman who glared at him for all she was worth. He thought he’d actually have to carry through his threat, but she shouldered her way past him and stomped toward his cabin. Following her closely, he ignored the murmurs behind him. Before his door was closed, Caitlin turned on him.

  “How dare you order me to get into your bed!”

  “Getting into my bed didn’t seem to bother you a while ago!” And while he’d been doing something nice for her, no less! “At least not when you put that stinking fish under the covers.”

  ‘What?” She was a good actress, he’d give her that. She walked over to the bed and pretended to see the fish as though for the first time. “You think I put that there?”

  “I know you did. You promised you’d get your revenge. Well, this isn’t the way, I’m happy to say. Clean it up.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I said, clean it up. Strip the sheets and remake the bed. After you get rid of the fish.”

  “I’m telling you I didn’t do it,” Caitlin insisted. Why wouldn’t the man believe her? Suddenly remembering the cat, she said, “Calico Jack. He stole a fish I was cleaning this morning. He must have hidden what he couldn’t eat in your bed for safekeeping.”

  “I don’t believe a word of it,” Bryce said belligerently. “You put it there for revenge!”

  In addition to being rude, the man was an idiot! “If I had wanted to get my revenge this way, I wouldn’t have stopped at one fish. Believe me, I would have done a much better job.”

  “Well, apply that attitude to the extra work I’m going to assign to you tomorrow. But right now I want to go to sleep. I’m tired. Now get the damn fish out of my bed.”

  She was tired of being bullied! Caitlin snatched up the fish, trying not to breathe when she asked, “And where shall I put it?”

  “I don’t care.”

  He asked for it. “I could throw it overboard,” Caitlin said sweetly, pretending to pass Bryce to get to the door. Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she pulled out the elastic on the front of his Jockey shorts. “But I’d rather put it in here!”

  “Caitlin, if you—”

  But she’d already dropped the fish and had quickly moved away from him. “Knock off the threats, Captain, because I’m ignoring them from now on,” she said, opening the door. “And I wouldn’t advise you come after me, or your crew might get the idea that you’d been bested by a woman.”

  Purposely she let her eyes drop to the odd-shaped bulge in the front of his shorts. He let out a strangled sound but didn’t come after her.

  “Pleasant dreams, Bryce,” she singsonged as she headed for her mat. She smiled pleasantly at the crew members who were standing around staring at her.

  Settling to the deck, Caitlin was sure she’d sleep well now. She might not have planned it, but that had been sweeter revenge than she’d ever have thought of on her own!

  Chapter Seven

  The clear blue Caribbean felt as good as it looked. Paddling contentedly through gently rolling swells, Caitlin sighed as her sore muscles began to loosen with the sun-warmed water’s therapeutic effect. What a treat. After two days of working hard as a deckhand, hoisting sails and swabbing decks as well as assisting Lars with his duties, she was more than ready for a recreational break.

  When the ship had anchored off a small, uninhabited island that morning, she’d stared longingly at the water and asked Thomas if the captain ever allowed his crew to go swimming. To her surprise, sometime later Bryce had approached her and tossed her a swimsuit, explaining that it had been mysteriously left behind, like the shorts and T-shirt she had been given earlier, by one of the crew’s female relatives. Then he’d gruffly told her she could take the day off.

  What had prompted those unusual actions? Caitlin wondered. Had Bryce softened toward her for some reason? Since the fish incident two days before, the captain had put her into training with the crew and spoken to her only to issue orders. He’d been quite cold and aloof.

  Trying to be just as cool and detached in return, Caitlin had worked hard at her new duties. Was awarding her the time off Bryce’s indirect way of telling her he approved of her work performance? Although a novice, she certainly had enough rope burns on her hands to prove that she’d been doing her share as a deckhand. Even now, as she swam along, the raw areas stung slightly in the salty water.

  Despite the reprieve she’d been given, however, Caitlin was still fully aware of her captive situation. Although she no longer feared that Bryce was a murderer, the Sea Devil’s captain definitely was involved in theft and kidnapping and who knew what other illegal activities. The man should be brought to justice someday—and had deserved a dead fish in his pants at the very least.

  Chuckling as she remembered the expression on Bryce’s face when she’d deposited the smelly fish, Caitlin stopped to tread water midway between the ship and the small barren island. Then, adjusting the snorkel mask Thomas had kindly loaned her, she prepared to make a shallow dive beneath the surface of the translucent water. Enough of dead fish. It was time to encounter some livelier sea dwellers on their own underwater turf.

  Slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the filtered light, Caitlin peered down at the seabed some twenty feet below. Strewn with rock and often encrusted with exotic coral, the ocean bottom stretched out endlessly beneath her like some otherworldly landscape. Branching antlers of elkhorn coral sprang forth magically from deep crevices of rock. Slender pillar coral, resembling miniature castle towers, nestled in a yen table forest of seaweed and reddish, fan-shaped fire coral.

  Admiring the scenery, Caitlin became even more intrigued by the wildlife of the region. Before she’d gone far, a couple of delicate, bright yellow butterfly fish darted before her, then swam away to play tag among clumps of seaweed. She had to smile when a large iridescent-blue parrot fish swam lazily by and seemed to give her a derisive stare. Then, far below, she spotted a school of baby squid propelling themselves along like tiny underwater helicopters.

  As she rose to the surface to catch her breath, she tried to remember the names of other indigenous fish of the region. Sea bass? Conch? She was sure they were all listed in the kind of tourist guidebooks she’d seen in Bryce’s cabin. Dare she ask him if she could borrow the books when she returned to the ship? Bryce surely didn’t use them. Caitlin couldn’t imagine a pirate captain reading such materials before he went to sleep.

  After spending an hour or more swimming around, she began to feel tired and headed toward the island. When she reached a depth that allowed her feet to touch bottom, she stood and turned to look back at the ship. Perry, working near the portside rail, waved a friendly greeting. Caitlin waved back, then made her way toward the beach of gleaming white sand.

  It was too bad that she wasn’t really on vacation, Caitlin mused, easing herself down in the shallows before she reached land. In some ways she’d actually been enjoying her work these last three days. Helping to sail a ship was the kind of challenging outdoor work that made her desk job as a college counselor seem distinctly unexciting. She only wished she had more control of the present situation. If Caitlin had her choice, she’d prefer to be something other than a lowly deckhand,

  What would it be like to captain a ship like the Sea Devil? Amused by a school of tiny striped angelfish that suddenly surrounded her, Caitlin let them nibble delicately at her fingertips while she daydreamed.

  Starting with more realistic thoughts, trying to envision the duties of a legitimate ship’s captain, she soon took her fantasy to more o
utrageous levels and imagined herself as a flamboyant pirate leader. But, of course, Caitlin the Pirate Queen would rob the rich only to give to the poor, keeping little for herself. Laughing as she visualized herself in a feathered wide-brimmed hat and swashbuckler boots, Caitlin stirred when she felt a stinging sensation on one of her thighs. Had she gotten rope burns on her legs too?

  Gazing down into the water, it took her a few moments to recognize that the numerous, clear-colored strands floating across her leg and arms were tentacles. Then even sharper pains made her struggle to her feet. She was surrounded by stinging jellyfish!

  What was Caitlin up to now? Standing near the rail of the Sea Devil, where he’d been keeping an eye on the young woman for a while, Bryce frowned when he saw her suddenly stand up in the shallows and thrash around.

  “Perry, get the skiff ready!” The captain’s concern grew. Obviously there was something wrong. Caitlin was rubbing desperately at her arms and leg. Could she have hurt herself on some coral or run into jellyfish?

  Jumping into the skiff as soon as it was lowered to the water, Bryce got the craft to the shallows of the island in only a few minutes. By that time Caitlin had waded farther out into the deeper swells.

  “Come this way!” Bryce shouted as he shut off the skiff’s motor.

  Leaning over the side, he almost capsized the boat as he helped her scramble into it. She was shivering, and her teeth were chattering as he quickly examined her body, noting the large welts rising on her thigh.

  “Jellyfish,” she explained, panting.

  He could tell that she was trying to be brave, hardening her chin against what Bryce knew from experience must be throbbing paid. Yet he’d never seen her quite so vulnerable. Why hadn’t he warned her about jellyfish before she’d left for her swim?

  “I’ll get you back to the ship right away. Then we can take care of those stings,” he assured her.

  Kneeling in the skiff, he felt his heart thud as she gazed at him with pain-filled blue eyes. And he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. Drawing her closer, he cradled her wet body as if to warm her. When she shivered against his chest, his protective instincts rose to the fore.