Mystery in the Moonlight by Lynn Patrick

dresser.
    What was this? As the island’s sole guest at the moment, was she being treated to special service? Looking around the room as she entered and finding herself alone, she examined the bottle and its attached note. A chill of apprehension swept through her as she read the words it contained.
     
    My sweet dove,
    You will be so happy I have returned early. To celebrate, I have sent you a special treat. I will be busy at my house until late, but then I plan to share the wine with you in the moonlight. As promised, I have brought you something lovely and special, my cherie, to flatter the pretty face I hope to kiss. I wait impatiently these few hours longer until we can be closely together.
    Jean.
     
    Now what was she going to do? Caitlin wondered, reading the note once again. Although she wasn’t afraid of Jean, she didn’t want an unpleasant confrontation with him. Why had he returned so soon? When she was all alone? She had no desire to fend off his amorous advances tonight, Caitlin thought as she refolded the note and thrust it into the pocket of her full-skirted dress.
    Thinking rapidly, Caitlin settled on a hasty escape plan. There wouldn’t be an unpleasant encounter if she could help it. If Jean planned to meet her at the bungalow, she intentionally would be somewhere else. Why not go for that long walk and explore the other side of Hibiscus like she’d always wanted? After waiting hours for her, Jean would be discouraged from pursuing her further.
    And tomorrow, Caitlin told herself, she wouldn’t be so alone. Surely Bryce or new guests would arrive.
    So, all she had to do was stay away from her room until daylight. Leaving the bungalow hurriedly, walking in the opposite direction of the Beach Bar, Caitlin headed toward the sugarloaf hill. Would she have trouble finding some kind of path up its side? Would there be snake holes? At the moment, searching for paths in the dark and avoiding snakes seemed a lot less unpleasant than keeping Jean Moreau at bay.
    Happily there was a trail up the side of the sugarloaf. As she made her way through the brush and fought for traction on the slippery, beaten earth, however, Caitlin wished she’d taken the time to change her clothes before she set out on the reckless journey. Her frilly white sundress, delicate shawl, and leather-soled sandals were hardly appropriate for an uphill hike in the dark. Startled when some small creature made rustling sounds in the undergrowth, she groped around and found a stout, dead branch to use as a weapon.
    Although no danger appeared, Caitlin found that the club made a practical climbing aid.
    A few minutes later, breathing hard, her skirt torn in one place, suffering from thorn scratches on her legs and arms, she reached the end of the uphill path as the moon slid out from behind some ragged clouds. Steadying herself against a large boulder, Caitlin rested and gazed down the opposite, even steeper incline. Far below she saw the sheen of water as moonbeams played on the waves of the ocean.
    The cool white light revealed the clear outlines of the huge rocks that lined the shore. Taking in their jagged edges, Caitlin thought about the reefs Jean had mentioned, the barriers that made this side of Hibiscus dangerous for boats that approached too closely.
    She looked farther out to sea, gasping when she saw a ship gliding through the waters—a fully rigged ship with black sails! Was it the ship Basil had told her about? Staring for several seconds, Caitlin tried to inch her way around the boulder for a better look but was so distracted that she almost fell as her foot slipped on loose gravel.
    When she managed to look up again, the clouds had cloaked the moon and the ship was gone. If it had ever been there in the first place, she thought.
    Could she have been imagining things? Had she conjured moonlight and shadows into a ghostly pirate ship? The vessel had seemed so surreal and spectral, moving dark and silent over the water.
    Shivering