Two Down by Nero Blanc Page A

prowling around outside.
    “Okay,” she announced. “Enough is enough!”
    She marched through the living room and yanked open the front door, intending to storm outside and berate this unseen and unnerving presence. But a piece of paper stopped her in her tracks. Tucked under a corner of the doormat was a hand-drawn crossword puzzle. Still standing in the entry, Belle quickly scanned several of the clues: Hunter  . . . Call to Aladdin’s lamp?  . . . “Evil in the Deep”  . . .
    ORION, she silently ticked off, GENIE . . . She was in her office with her trusty red Bic pen in hand before she knew it.



PUZZLE 1

9
    B elle’s pen almost flew from her hand as she inked in the puzzle’s final clue. To her mind, the cryptic screamed complicity in the mystery surrounding the Orion ’s fire. JAMAICA, she recited silently, BOAT; YAWL; WAVE. Who wouldn’t immediately recognize the value of this piece of evidence? Her hand was on the phone and punching in Rosco’s number before another second had passed.
    “They’ve been murdered,” she announced the moment he answered. “. . . Or maybe kidnapped.”
    “Whoa . . . whoa . . . I take it you’re referring to Genie Pepper and Jamaica Nevisson?”
    Belle, in her office, stared dumbfounded into space. “Of course I am.”
    “And, what might you be basing this theory on, if I may be so bold as to ask?” Amusement crackled through the telephone line.
    “Very funny, Rosco . . . Obviously, I’m talking about the puzzle in my hand.” Belle waved the cryptic in the air, although Rosco, of course, didn’t observe the gesture. “14-Across: the answer is ORION; the clue is Hunter . That was the type of boat the women chartered, wasn’t it? A Hunter 380, or something? And named Orion ? Could anything be more plain—”
    “Mind if I interrupt for a moment?”
    “Be my guest.”
    Rosco heard more than a hint of irritation in Belle’s tone. It was difficult for her to understand thought processes more methodical than her own. “Can we go back to the beginning?”
    A brief but tolerant sigh greeted the suggestion. “There was a puzzle on my front porch . . . under the doormat . . . No, wait . . . There’s more to the story . . . I was working on Whither Flora? ”
    “ Whither Flora? ”
    “Never mind . . . And I thought I was being watched . . . But when I went to the door to chase whoever it was away, I found the puzzle.”
    This time it was Rosco’s turn to groan. “Belle, if you believe you have a prowler, you don’t personally try to scare that individual away . . . I think we discussed this situation a couple of months ago?”
    “But that was a murder case—”
    “Didn’t you just use that term in reference to the Orion fire?”
    Rosco heard a mumbled, “Well, yes, but—” Belle hated to admit that she was often a rash and reckless human being.
    “Look, Belle, I’m not saying the disappearance of two women is analogous to the Briephs murder—”
    “But it might be, Rosco. That’s just the point. This puzzle has crime written all over it—and Jamaica’s and Genie’s names!”
    A mechanical click interrupted them. Rosco said, “Hold on a sec. I’ve got another call,” then disappeared while Belle thrummed impatient fingers on her desktop. When his voice returned, she opened her mouth to resume her tirade, but Rosco beat her to the punch. “It’s the Coast Guard,” he stated. “They have a ‘priority situation’. . . Look, let’s have supper tonight . . . We’ll discuss your theory then. In the meantime I want you to be careful, okay?”
    “I am careful.”
    “I’m serious about this, Belle.”
    “I’ll see you tonight,” was all she answered before ringing off.
    Rosco tapped his phone pad, putting the Coast Guard on speaker. “Rosco Polycrates,” he said.
    “Sir, this is Chief Warrant Officer Osborne, assigned with Lieutenant Evans. I’m over at the Green Point