A Crossworder's Gift (3 page)

“That's a lot of snacks for one little guy … Let me know when the action starts. I'll work out our itinerary for tomorrow …” Rosco began flipping through the Saint Lucia tourist information. “According to this, all that pirate
Jambe de Bois
stuff that Roger fed us was on the mark … Hmmm, it says here that Pigeon Island wasn't connected to the mainland back then. That didn't occur until 1971 … Anyway, we can hike out there if we want to … See where the buccaneers did their conniving …”

“These lizards aren't doing anything but staring at each other …”

“And the cannibal stories are genuine as well. It seems the French and English swapped ownership of Saint Lucia on a regular basis. I'd gather this necessitated the exchange of a fair amount of buckshot as well—given how fond the French are of the English, and vice versa. Eventually the cannibals were … shall we say, eliminated. Or perhaps they just had their fill of white men shooting at each other and decided to hit the road … Or in this case, sail off into the sunset.”

“Maybe if I pushed this one toward the banana a little?”

“The island changed hands a total of fourteen times in a hundred and fifty years. Can you believe that?”

“This is a real Mexican standoff …”

“Statio baud malefidia carinis!”

Belle turned away from the lizards and faced Rosco. “What did you say?”

“I thought that might get your attention.
A safe haven for ships;
it's Saint Lucia's motto. I'll bet it came in handy for the corsair types. You know, throw around a little Latin? Impress the ladies? Make folks think you've got an education? Then go and plunder their vessels?”

Rosco turned to the last page of the tourist publication. His eyes widened slightly, and his brow pinched. Then he closed the newspaper, and slid it to the bottom of a stack of magazines sitting under the side table. The maneuver was more obvious than he'd intended, and Belle immediately recognized its deviousness.

“How about some dinner?” he said in an attempt to cover his activity.

“Rosco?” Belle looked at her watch. “It's not even six-thirty.”

“Right.”

“What's going on? What's in the newspaper?”

“Oh … nothing really … skimpy swimsuit ad. Far too revealing, if you ask me. Nothing that would interest you.”

She laughed. “I don't believe you for a second.” Belle walked over to the stack of magazines, but he stopped her.

“It's only that we're on vacation … and … well, there's a crossword in the paper, and I thought you'd like to stay away from that while we're away. No W-O-R-K for the W-E-E-K.”

“Just because I see a puzzle doesn't mean I have to drop everything I'm doing just to fill it in. I'm not that much of a fanatic.”

He glanced down at the stack of newsprint. “You haven't seen this puzzle.”

She bent down and retrieved the paper. Realizing it was hopeless, Rosco made no attempt to stop her. On the back page, Belle found the crossword. She opened her eyes wide.
“Digger's Challenge
… Let me get my pen.”

“I wouldn't want you to ‘drop
everything
you're doing just to …' Hey! It looks like these lizards are just about ready to go at it, big time.”

Digger's Challenge

ACROSS

1.  Spark

4.  A developing area?

8.  Perrault villain

10.  Flat fish

11.  Tony winner, Arthur

12.  Nuclear watchdog; abbr.

14.  Baum's land

15.  Hosp. rooms

16.  LTD & Inc. relative

17.  Cab in Cremona

20. “The Hurricane” star

23.  Skipper of the Adventure Galley

25.  Hire again

26.  Mr. Mineo

27.  Old salt

28.  Right-rain link

30. “Treasure Island” author's monogram

32.  Buccaneer's crew, usually

33.  “Murder___Death”

35.  Latin thing?

37.  Pipes down?

39.  “___No Evil”

40.  Charts

42.  Part of AT&T

43.  Oafs

44.  W. C. Fields', “___a Gift”

46.  John Q. to John

47.  Barrie villain

48.  “The Beggar's___”

50.  McQueen or Reeves

53.  Snake sound

54.  SNAFU

55.  “Tell___a Riddle”

56.  Bond doctor

DOWN

1.  Commonplace

2.  Hot coal

3.  Enjoyable

4.  Price-y insect?

5.  Kokomo campus; abbr.

6.  Penlight battery

7.  Half a suit?

8.  Island market places

9.  Unscrambler

10.  Officer's course; abbr.

13.  Line

18.  Asparagus unit

19.  Moonshine makers

21.  Harding or Hamilton

22.  Two-stage rocket

24.  “This___Your Life”

28.  Distribute cutlasses

29.  “The___Hawk”; Flynn role

31.  Ready-go link

32.  Mr. Brooks

33.  Plead

34.  “Sure!”

36.  Caribbean specialty

38.  You & me

39.  Treasure, often

41.  Navigational aids

43.  Pirates

45.  Retreat

46.  “Mayday!”

48.  Resistance unit

49.  “Easy as___”

51.  Panel truck

52.  Self

To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit
openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords

I
T
took Belle a little over ten minutes to complete the crossword, which she then handed to Rosco. “What do you think?” He shrugged. “Nicely done. No errors.” He checked his watch. “Ten minutes and eighteen seconds; not a record, but … I'm happy to see that you brought your red pen with you—one never knows when an emergency like this might pop up.”

Belle grabbed the paper from him. “That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it! I'm talking about the design, and the
title, Digger's Challenge
. What do you think
that
refers to? Definitely, not a clam digger, which means—” Her words were flying out of her mouth so fast she didn't have time to finish one thought before embarking on another. “Because given the skull and crossbones pattern … and the clear references to pirates … Well, it's obvious there's a secret ‘challenge' the solvers are supposed to take.”

Rosco retrieved the newspaper. “Do you think you might be reading more into this than there is?” he asked. “Nowhere does the crossword suggest a contest of some sort. Besides, Digger Bonnet is long dead. He couldn't have constructed—”

“Then who did create it?” she demanded. Belle could be stubborn; this was one of those times. She squared her shoulders; her jaw was set. “Okay, if not Bonnet, then—”

“Belle, this is just a little island entertainment in a local handout.”

She sighed. “You're right, I guess …” Her shoulders hunched in thought. “A little island entertainment, because Roger said Saint Lucia has plenty of crossworders …”

“You can find out Monday. The newspaper's office will be closed by now, and tomorrow's Sunday …”

Belle squinted her gray eyes and furrowed her brow. It was an expression Rosco had seen many, many times before. He laughed. “I guess the mystery of the constructor
won't
keep until Monday—”

“We can call Roger Conner. He may have some ‘insight' on the situation—and even if he doesn't …”

Rosco chuckled and walked into the bungalow. Belle followed, and watched her husband chat on the phone for all of thirty seconds.

“Well?” she asked the moment he hung up.

“He was on his way out the door—heading home after ‘Happy Hour' and letting the late shift take over. Apparently, Jimmy Bungs gets cranky if he stays at the bar past seven.”

“Not a night owl, huh?”

Rosco raised an eyebrow. “I guess not. Roger suggested we stop by his house, since we're in the market for chat and not rum. We take the ferry across the bay, and walk up the hill. His place is on the first dirt road to the right.”

They strolled out of their bungalow and headed down the walkway hand in hand. A series of lights bordered the path on either side and shone upon groupings of bird of paradise, hibiscus, and bougainvillea while the stars and a three-quarter moon cast silvery blue shadows among the nodding palm fronds and giant ferns. The tree frogs were beginning their evening ritual; their flutey chirps and whistles floated effortlessly into the night air.

Before leaving the trail, Belle and Rosco stopped, faced each other, and exchanged a long kiss. “This is an awfully romantic spot,” she said as they pulled apart.

“Does this mean you want to put this puzzle thing on the back burner?” Rosco asked hopefully. She didn't answer, so he added, “I didn't think so.”

The couple retraced their steps to the Pirate's Cove Bar then crossed the beach to the ferry—a minibarge that traversed Marigot Bay at all hours of the day and night. The trip to the far shore took a brief minute of putt-putting among fishing skiffs now deserted until morning.

Once again on shore, they passed the marina's general store and the sleepy police station, and began climbing the hill, turning at the crossroads as per Roger's instructions. After a few hundred yards, Rosco stopped. “This should be his place.”

The house didn't appear much larger than the bungalow Belle and Rosco had rented. It had the same style of windows—
sans
glass panes—a tin roof, and a wraparound veranda, and was surrounded by dense vegetation. However, it was considerably older than their cottage, and time and innumerable tropical storms had left a mark, making the structure look like a fisherman's shack rather than a residence. The door had been left open, but Rosco knocked twice before they stepped inside.

The interior had been decorated à la
Thirties Caribbean Nautical
. Torn fishnets had been slung from the rafters, each adorned with glass and cork floaters, and an assortment of seashells, starfish, and coral fans. The furniture was rattan, and once had been brushed with bright tropical colors, but the paint was now faded to pastel shades, as were the thin and lumpy cushions on the couch and armchairs. Conner was sitting on the couch reading a battered paperback. He didn't appear to have heard their knock, but Jimmy Bungs squawked his habitual “Bottoms up, maties” as the couple passed through the entryway.

Conner glanced up from his book. “Ahhh, there they are! Good old Jimmy; better than a watch dog, he is.” He stood and crossed to his guests, extending his hand to Rosco. “Welcome to my humble abode … So, you've found the puzzle from the summer issue?”

Belle glanced at the newspaper in her hand. “Gosh! I didn't even notice it was from July … I guess the situation wasn't as pressing as I thought.”

“And you call yourself a sleuth? Although it doesn't surprise me that you managed to sniff out a five-month-old crossword. Where in the name of Beelzebub did you find it?” Conner took the paper from her and smiled. “And completed without a single error, and with the infamous Belle Graham red pen … May I keep this as a souvenir?”

“So, you've heard of my wife?” Rosco asked.

“Oh, indeed.” Conner motioned toward a table and chairs by the window. “Please sit … Our island may be far away from New England, but we
puzzle people
are well aware of your reputation … And the numerous mysterious outrages you've managed to solve, or shall we say resolve?”

Rosco found Jolly Roger's semiserious tone curious. It made him suspect that there was a good deal more to Roger Conner than he'd first surmised. “What surprises me,” he said, “is not so much that you're aware of my wife's ‘reputation,' as you put it, but the fact that you mentioned none of this earlier. It makes me wonder if—”

Conner held up his large hand. “I can explain this very simply.”

Rosco gave him a slight shrug that said,
I'm all ears
, and Conner handed the puzzle back to Belle.

“I guess I'll start at the beginning. It was Digger Bonnet's idea, really. It's just that the poor old guy kicked the bucket before we could get the game off the ground.”

“Cheerio, dumbbell,” Jimmy Bungs squawked from the far corner of the room. He then flew over to the table and landed on Belle's shoulder.

“Huh,” Conner exclaimed, “I haven't seen him fly in years. Not since Digger owned this house. I think Mr. Jimmy Bungs must be in love. He's certainly very fond of you—”

“Digger Bonnet?” Rosco prompted.

“Right. It was Digger's idea to have a contest. Everyone puts ten bucks into a hat. I'm talking U.S., not Eastern Caribbean Dollars … And fifteen years ago ten bucks really meant something—meaning the pot was well worth competing for.”

Belle and Rosco merely nodded.