Mystery in the Moonlight (22 page)

As she approached the small bunk room next to the galley, she could hear Lars’s low, off-key singing. Was there some way to sober him up? Was the captain going to be angry that the old man’s drinking had gotten out of hand?

“She was a lov-v-v-e-ly ladee! Ladee, matee, …”

Wow. The rum was even affecting the old Norwegian’s rhyming ability. Munching a burger she’d brought from the table and carrying a large mug of strong tea, Caitlin entered the cramped quarters to stare down at the sail maker. Humming the same tune he’d been singing before, he lay flat on his bunk, his sparse white hair sticking straight out around his head.

“Wouldn’t you like some tea, Lars?” asked Caitlin, offering him the mug. “It might help you feel better.”

“Tea, bee, sea… Don’t want any tea. Want Anna, my wife. Ingrid’s mother. Was our anniversary last week…or maybe the week before that. Just remembered. I’m sad, …”

When Caitlin crouched down beside the bunk, Lars took the proffered mug and surprised her by drinking its contents with one gulp. “Phooey! Nothing can take the place of rum,” he complained bitterly. “Though I’d rather have Anna.”

“You say you want your wife?” Caitlin asked curiously. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“She’s gone, that’s why.”

Feeling a wave of pity for the elderly man, Caitlin touched his arm comfortingly. “I’m sorry. When did she pass away?”

“Pass away? You mean, die?” Lars’s half closed eyes popped completely open with a startled look. “Anna’s not dead. Not the last I heard, anyway. Woman’s just stupid. Why else divorce me and run off with a landlubber? All because of those terrible suspicions of hers. I wasn’t chasing women in every port.”

“Oh. Well, a divorce sounds sad too.”

“Hmph. It was sad and bad and happened maybe thirty years ago, give or take a few.” Lars reached over to open the chest beside his bunk and pulled out a bottle of rum. “I really loved Anna. Almost as much as the sea. Told her so. She just wouldn’t believe I never chased around.”

“It’s sad to be misunderstood,” Caitlin agreed as she grabbed hold of the bottle before Lars could open it. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough of this stuff?”

“There’s never enough!” Lars wrenched the bottle away from her. “Though I guess you can have some, too, if you get yourself a glass, missy.”

“No thanks. Why don’t you hold off on the booze? Talk some more and try to relax. Maybe you’ll fall asleep.”

“And dream about Anna? Been sad enough awake. Know what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t believe what you-say? Thinks you’re a monster or a monstrous liar or some such thing? It’s a bad and awful tragedy.”

Remembering her various battles with Bryce, Caitlin nodded. “I can certainly relate to that. You’re not the only one who’s been misunderstood and hurt. I’ve had some problems too.”

“Oh, it’s bad, sad…terrible!” Forgoing another rhyme, Lars quickly opened the rum and took a swig out of the bottle. Before Caitlin had a chance to object, he poured a large dose in the empty mug and handed it to her. “Take that. Make you feel better about your hurts. At least the both of us still have the sea.” He took another swallow. “Can be thankful for that.”

But she didn’t feel thankful. Staring into the depths of the dark liquid in the mug, she continued brooding about Bryce. Lars told her, “In your case, missy, like I’ve said, you should run around with a nicer crowd.”

Caitlin’s head jerked up. Was the old man going to start lecturing again about his own ridiculous misunderstandings concerning her? She wasn’t in the mood for it.

Irritated, she snapped, “Once and for all, I wasn’t in with the wrong crowd: And your precious captain isn’t so perfect. Captain Winslow didn’t save me. Well, not exactly.”

Her harsh tone seemed to shock Lars, intoxicated though he was. Taking another swig of the rum, he turned his eyes away from her to gaze up at the ceiling and hum. Frustrated because she’d never been able to get anyone to believe her innocence in this situation, especially Bryce, Caitlin sipped from the mug. Though bitter, the liquor didn’t taste that bad. Unthinkingly she took a huge gulp and gasped when the fiery liquid burned all the way down her throat. Her eyes filled with sudden tears.

“Don’t cry, missy. Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Lars murmured contritely, raising himself up to pour more liquor into her mug. “Have some more Captain Rum here.”

As warmth spread through her limbs Caitlin toppled gracefully from her crouch into a more relaxed, seated position on the floor. “Captain Rum? I don’t want anything to do with captains of any sort! Especially not that horrible Bryce.”

“Captain Winslow’s the best.”

“Please! No offense to you, but I’d rather not hear any more praise about your captain. He’s disgusting as far as I’m concerned.”

“Has the captain done something to hurt your feelings?”

“He’s beastly!” cried Caitlin, taking another gulp of the rum. The small room seemed to sway for a moment, until she leaned against the wall. Was she really getting tipsy? she wondered. She’d always had a low tolerance for alcohol.

“But the captain has his reasons. Poor dead Ned. His only brother and all,” stated Lars, obviously struggling to explain everything clearly to her. “That’s why we set out on this dangerous journey. Ned’s dead, or we’d be herding those vacationers in the Bahamas and I’d be sewing sails, not cooking.”

Despite the comforting, distracting haze that surrounded her, Caitlin was able to hone in on the old man’s words. “Bryce’s brother? Vacationers? What are you talking about?”

“Why, the Winslow brothers, missy,” said Lars, raising his arm to toast her with the rum bottle. “Let’s drink to foolish dead Ned. Skoal.”

When the young woman lifted her cup, Lars shakily leaned over to slosh some more liquor into it. “Don’t spill it,” cautioned Caitlin as a rivulet of rum ran down her arm. “Ned is Bryce’s brother?”

“Was. Always a little wild but not real bad…now he’s gone. The captain’s certain he’s dead, maybe murdered, but the rest of the family have their hopes. Good people. Always lived in the Bahamas. Known the captain’s father close to forty years and worked on his fleet of ships before the family went into the tourist trade. All going to be real broken up when the captain doesn’t find his younger brother.”

“Wait a minute,” said Caitlin, trying to get everything straight. “Bryce’s family lives in the Bahamas and owns ships? His brother was murdered? Is that why Bryce has turned to crime—because of his anguish over Ned?”

“Crime? No, no,” Lars said, shaking his head from side to side on the pillow. “Captain’s no criminal. Those boats we’ve sunk? Belonged to evil smugglers. We’ve been trying to find out how and why Ned was killed.”

Feeling expansive, Caitlin waved her mug aloft. “Ha! Only sunk a couple of boats, did you? And you think that’s no crime? Sinking boats is against the law. And you were flying the pirate flag. I saw the skull and cutlasses the night I was kidnapped from Hibiscus.”

“Nice piece of sewing, eh?” bragged Lars, passing the bottle to Caitlin so she could refill her mug. “Made that flag and am proud of it. Captain doesn’t like it, but I put the thing up to scare the daylights out of those low-living mates we went after. None of
us
are criminals. Besides, only left the boats to wreck themselves on the reefs. No one was hurt. Authorities should be happy about those smugglers. They’re the bad lot being led by that Frenchman…what’s his name?”

“Jean Moreau?”

“That’s him. Frenchie isn’t going to call in any Coast Guards, missy. He’s plenty rich from his smuggling and thievery. Probably the one who got Ned killed too. Frenchie’s into things too deep and black to complain about us…black, rack, sack, pack…”

Taking another swig of her drink, Caitlin noticed that her lips felt a little numb, but she wasn’t particularly concerned. At least she didn’t feel depressed anymore. She smiled at Lars in friendly camaraderie.

“This is all very interesting,” she remarked, her speech slurring. “Jean Moreau sent me lovey-dovey notes, saying he wanted to kiss me. Didn’t like it, but didn’t think he was a murderer.”

“Rum, drum… Captain learned Ned got in with Frenchie. But he didn’t deserve to die,” Lars said morosely, then drank more rum. “We’ll take care of the black-hearted killers that did him in…”

“That’s why Bryce wanted to know so much about Moreau,” Caitlin said slowly, trying to get the name right. Then she hiccuped.

“Yes, yes,
him
. Shouldn’t run with that crowd. A pack of murderers!”

“I wasn’t running around with them,” objected Caitlin. “I’m one of the good guys and was kidnapped. What do I have to do…
hic
…to get you to believe me?”

“Never can be too many on the side of good. Captain took the most loyal. Only part of his regular crew. We made an oath before we left the Bahamas.”

“Well, all right,” she agreed easily. “I’ll swear myself in. Okay?
Hic
. Ooh, Moreau will be mad. Probably tell Babs and me to get off his island. But I guess I haven’t been there much lately, anyway. Hmm, I wonder how Babs is doing?” Suddenly thinking about her friend, Caitlin stared off into space. Her head felt so heavy, she let it rest against the wall.

“Have to remember a man’s been killed,” stated Lars vehemently.

“Did Ned look like Bryce?” Imagining a young man as handsome as the captain lying dead, Caitlin’s eyes filled with sympathetic tears.

“Don’t take it so hard,” said Lars. “We have to be brave and spirited. Maybe sing a courageous tune.”

“Courageous Caitlin is always brave.”

“Who?”

“Me!”

“Oh,” Lars muttered before breaking into song, “Yo ho ho and—”

But Caitlin interrupted him, objecting, “That’s not a brave song! Let’s sing. Anchors aweigh, my boys…” She tried to salute the old sail maker smartly, her hand slapping at her brow.

At the same time, outside the sail maker’s quarters, Bryce talked with Anselm as they entered the galley. “There’s something about that name,” .Bryce mused, searching his memory. “Eddie Teach. It sounds familiar.”

But the big man was staring around the room, a frown on his broad face. “Why is there such a mess down here? Where’s the cook? I was hoping to get something to eat. And who’s singing?”

Bryce’s attention was quickly drawn to the stack of dirty dishes on the table, then his eyes moved on to the stove and its greasy griddle. Both men followed the sound of singing voices to Lars’s quarters.

“Anchors aweigh! We’ll sail at dawn…” trilled Caitlin.

“And blow them all away…” warbled Lars.

“What’s going on here?” asked Bryce sternly, centering himself in the doorway of the small room.

Caitlin’s pretty, if slightly bleary, eyes blinked toward him. “Aye, aye, Captain.
Hic,”
she said with a salute and a lopsided smile.

“They’re both thoroughly soaked with rum,” said Anselm, laughing as he gazed over Bryce’s shoulder. “The old man’s been a bad influence on her.”

Bryce noted the liquor bottle beside the bunk. “Or vice versa. Why didn’t she take the bottle away from Lars instead of getting drunk with him?”

“You’ll have to ask her that tomorrow, my friend.” Still laughing, Anselm backed away, muttering that he was going to fix himself something to eat.

Bryce entered the old man’s quarters, first checking on Lars and picking up the nearly empty rum bottle to toss it in the galley’s garbage can. Then he helped Caitlin stand. She tottered unsteadily, leaning against him. The warmth and softness of her slender body made him catch his breath.

But the things she made Bryce want to do were not the right ways to deal with an intoxicated woman. Steeling himself against the feel of her, Bryce lifted Caitlin’s relaxed form, intending to carry her up to his cabin and deposit her there.

“I think I understand now,” she murmured against his chest as he navigated the galley stairs. “I didn’t really think you were a criminal.” Bryce was silent, not bothering to try to figure out what she was talking about.

“But I’m not a criminal, either. You should know that too.”

“Mm-hmm,” he muttered.

By the time he reached the captain’s cabin and swung the door open, she’d encircled his neck with soft clinging arms. He put her down on the bunk, but she insisted on hanging onto him.

“Kiss me?” Caitlin breathed sexily, her eyes dreamy. She raised her half open lips.

He was tempted until he smelled the rum. “Uh, maybe some other time,” Bryce managed to tell her, extricating himself from her hold and backing away from the tipsy woman.

“You aren’t gonna leave me here and lock the door, are you?”

“Somebody has to sail the ship.”

“Let Anselm do it. Stay here with me.”

Bryce backed away a little farther. “I’ll see you in the morning. You need to sleep off…your overindulgence.”

“Rather sleep with you.” She raised herself on her elbows and beckoned to him. “Won’t try to get away…I love you.”

“What?” he asked, startled.

But she didn’t repeat the amazing words. Instead she fell back on the bed with a moan. “Ooh, I’m dizzy.”

“Try to sleep.”

Bryce didn’t bother locking the cabin door as he had for the past couple of nights. He had done it to make sure his lovely prisoner was safe against her own foolish escape plans after that one attempt, but she wasn’t in any condition to try anything tonight.