Murder in the Cayman Islands by Harman Dianne

Author:Harman, Dianne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2018-12-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

The Blackwood residence wasn’t that hard to find. Teddy had sat at the kitchen island preparing a map of the route in painstaking detail. The finished result was a page containing lots of squiggly lines, annotated with undecipherable writing. Teddy talked Jake through the directions before he set off.

“This is the best way to get there,” Teddy had said, tracing his finger along the handmade map. “See? You can take this short cut to get there quicker.” He’d given Jake a beaming smile, handing over his artwork.

“How will I know which house it is?” Jake had asked him, confused. There were so many arrows on the page, it looked more like a meteorological report rather than a document explaining how to get somewhere that Teddy had assured him was only a few miles away.

“You’ll know when you see it,” Teddy said with a wise nod. “Mr. Jake not stupid.”

The morning after Nicky’s body had been discovered on the jetty, Jake set off in Al’s Lamborghini roadster, hoping Teddy was right. If he couldn’t follow the map, he figured he could always stop and ask for directions. The top was down, and the wind blew Jake’s hair back as he sped along the island roads, slowing for pedestrians in vibrant George Town, and once for a chicken meandering across the street in a village near Bodden Bay.

Little children waved at him, and he honked the horn and waved back. The coastal route was stunning, a rainbow of colorful houses on one side of the road, and the light aqua blue of the shallow reef waters on the other. Swimmers and snorkelers bobbed in the water near the shore. Further out in the water, jet skis zipped across the sea.

Jake squinted at Teddy’s map. All the arrows were pointing in the direction of Pease Bay on the south side of the island. The pale waters of the shallow reef on the western shores had given way to crystal blue and crashing waves. Jake cruised past residential developments that looked like they belonged to permanent residents, rather than the glitzy holiday rentals that were in abundance in the tourist area of Seven Mile Beach.

When he saw the imposing manor house from a distance, he smiled. Teddy was right. That had to be it. It looked like an English stately home right out of an historical movie. He turned in through the open front gates and followed a winding driveway leading to a pillared entrance with steps up to a grand door with a golden lion’s head attached to it for a door knocker.

Like the grounds, which were impressive but not manicured, Jake noticed the house was more tired-looking up close than upon first impressions from afar. Two cars were parked out front, a Bentley and a Jaguar, both several years old.

The lion’s head made a resounding thump when Jake knocked it twice against the door, whose paint was cracked and starting to peel away in places. He heard footsteps coming towards the

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