The Secret of Rosalita Flats by Tim W. Jackson

Author:Tim W. Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: travel guide, travel humor, scuba diving, cosy mystery, mystery comedy, sea adenture, expat american, caribbean and latin america, cayman islands travel, scuba mystery
Publisher: Tim W. Jackson

10

The rising sun tinted the bluff a dull orange when Cal stepped outside the next morning. As ever, he checked the ground around the house for footprints and scuffed dirt. There had been the usual scuffling outside during the night, and near dawn, some kind of howling from the bluff. It was past time to explore up there. After he made the house look unattended, he made a show of putting a box of papers in the Thing’s back seat, then drove north, as if headed to the resort strip.

Two hundred yards up the road, Cal pulled into a cleared spot at the bluff’s base. He would climb up, double back and see what hiding places there were, if anyone was hiding there, watch the house for a while. With any luck, he might catch the vandal breaking in.

He found a likely route and clambered up the rock face. The jagged rock bit into his hands and knees and through the soles of his sneakers. Cal hadn’t expected that. He was scraped and bleeding when he reached the top ten minutes later.

There, too, the ground was rougher than Cal had expected. No trails led through the underbrush, and the pocked limestone rose like rotted fangs ready to shred him if he fell. He picked his way along the cliff’s edge, taking small steps to make sure he didn’t trip, gripping a branch in each hand to steady himself before each step. It was slow going, but soon he was looking down at Batten’s Down.

Waves crashed against the headland, sending sprays of white foam into the air behind the house. The house looked small from here. Isolated. And ratty, as messy on the outside as it was on the inside. The roof needed painting more than the rest of the place. The rain gutters were crooked. The corrugated-tin laces were corroding in the salt air. The place needed major repair. By the next owner. The house would soon be someone else’s problem.

There was nothing among the rocks or underbrush to hint anyone had been here. Several openings gave way to narrow caves leading down into the bluff, some big enough for a person to crawl into. Was it possible for someone to use the caves as a way to get near Batten’s Down from another part of the island without being seen? Or for a quick getaway when Cal appeared unexpectedly? That could explain a lot.

The morning breeze moaned faint through the openings. The higher wind overnight, blowing through the rocks, could have made the howling sounds.

Two of the lines on Rhodes’ map intersected inland, if the map was accurate, and another was south of that, even with the Maples’ house. He needed sturdier shoes, and long pants, to explore any farther, though. But he could spy on the house from here.

Cal climbed part way down the cliff face, wedged himself into a crevice and settled in to watch until Rosie arrived.

The island had grown on him. If the house wasn’t such a mess, and constantly being ransacked, he would almost enjoy staying there.

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