To the left of the promontory, a pebble-strewn beach stretched toward what had once been the inn's cabanas and oceanside restaurant-also vivid pink. To the right was a wide green cliff grown wild and woolly with tangled brush, bittersweet, and desiccated honeysuckle vines. Belle gazed at the scene. She was totally alone.

She circ.u.mnavigated the main building, looking at it, and then away. She wasn't certain what she'd expected, but decided the spot was a rendezvous. COME ALONE; the implication was that someone else would arrive.

Finished with one pa.s.s of the inn, Belle began a second loop. She slowed her pace, walking methodically as if her body language could transmit an appropriate solitude to a distant observer. She had the definite sensation of being watched.

With her second tour of the building finished, she began a third, this time walking in the opposite direction, as if the choice might send another signal. No one appeared; the only sound was that of the surf crashing against the promontory, and of seagulls wheeling boisterously in the sky. Belle noticed that the sun was almost directly overhead. Eleven A A.M. had come and gone.

Perhaps she'd been mistaken about human contact, she decided; maybe a message had been attached to the building. She approached the porch; leaves and brush flung there by countless storms lay in deep eddies beside the doors and under the windows. More than a few floorboards had rotted away. She carefully kicked aside the refuse to continue her inspection. What a sad place, she thought; the utter abandonment of the building made her suddenly want to cry.

It was the slamming of a car door that made Belle snap to attention. She spun toward the sound. A woman dressed in jogging tights, a gray sweatshirt, white socks bunched at her ankles, and black running shoes was walking to the rear of an obscenely large sport utility vehicle. Her hair was blond-or wanted to be blond; long, dark roots spiked through an unruly mop that was tied in an elasticized terry band as if she'd just finished an arduous aerobics cla.s.s. She glanced apprehensively at the figure on the porch through the lenses of large dark gla.s.ses.

Belle nodded encouragement and gestured toward the inn's facade as if she were no more than a curious hiker. But the woman only scowled, opened the rear gate of her car, and allowed a s.h.a.ggy black dog to amble down. "Come on, boy," she ordered. The dog paid little heed; instead, his fur bristled and he loped toward Belle. "Come on, boy!" The woman shouted again. This time the tone was more urgent, even angry. "Come on! Come here, dammit!"

Belle detected fear in the voice. Apprehensively, she backed into a protective corner, but the dog suddenly stopped, arrested by some compelling scent in the unkempt lawn. When it finally looked up, it turned its head from Belle toward its frustrated owner, then slowly sauntered back to her side. Belle peered at the cracked and grimy window behind her head. In the dim reflection, she saw the muzzy outline of the rebellious dog and its owner running toward the beach.

When they were out of sight, she continued her inspection of the inn's porch. No sign of human intrusion was evident, although several windowpanes were missing-victims of wind-borne debris. Belle peered inside at the chilly, vacant reception rooms. Again, a sense of ineffable sorrow swept over her.

She shook off the feeling and retrieved the folded crossword from her purse, searching for clues she might have missed or misconstrued. 7-Down: Actress admirer Actress admirer; 16-Down: Bribes Bribes. The answer to 39-Across-Why?-was: AN ENDGAME. What did it mean? Surely whoever had called her to this spot possessed some answers.

The door closest to the promontory was slightly ajar. Belle pushed, but couldn't move it. She leaned her weight against it; the door reluctantly gave way, and she forced her way inside. Several chairs and tables littered the interior, which was overhung with a pall of dust and gritty sand. Cobwebs obscured many of the windows; nesting material from birds or rodents lay festering on the grimy sills.

Belle studied the floor; there didn't seem to be any trace of previous footsteps. Briefly, she wondered if the s.p.a.ce was safe to walk across, then began gingerly edging her way across the room. She'd been summoned to the inn, there had to be a message somewhere.

In a blind corridor between rooms, she heard the thud of feet on the porch. Her heart pounded within her chest; she felt her mouth go dry. She waited, only able to half see the area she was approaching; the one she'd left behind was now invisible-as was the building's exterior. The footsteps continued, navigating the porch's rotten flooring and piles of castaway branches and leaves. It became obvious that her unseen visitor was seeking an entrance.

Slowly, she turned and began retracing her steps. Fear caused her ears to ring; she was aware of staring without seeing. She clutched the crossword in her hand as if its presence could ensure her safe pa.s.sage. Bizarrely, she felt as though she were entering some grade-school test for which she'd memorized all the answers. DEW DROP INN, she wanted to say, AT ELEVEN AM.

Suddenly a gust of wind billowed through the dust-filled air; Belle realized that the door she'd entered had been pushed wide open and closed.

She froze. She simply could not force herself to move. Then she heard a dog barking; it was very near. No human voice responded, and the animal continued yapping. Belle drew a breath and walked toward the entry.

"Hey..." It was the woman in the jogging clothes. She shifted forward on her toes as if Belle's appearance had badly frightened her. Then she stared disbelieving at the puzzle in Belle's hand.

Belle found her own glance descending to the crossword. She realized how stupid she looked-trespa.s.sing in a derelict building with a sheet of graph paper clenched in her fist.

"You'd better be careful that your dog doesn't fall into one of those holes on the porch," she said, attempting a nonchalant smile.

"I tied him up," the woman said. She didn't move, and didn't smile. In fact, her body language seemed downright challenging.

"Are you... are you one of the owners of the building?" Belle asked.

The dog started another spate of barking, and Belle remembered her mission. COME ALONE, the crossword had warned, but here she was talking to some disagreeable female while her equally contentious pet announced to the world that the Dew Drop Inn was less than deserted. Belle walked past the woman and yanked open the door. Annoyance at herself and this unwanted visitor made her shoulders rigid.

"What are you doing in here?" the woman demanded.

"Looking around," Belle answered without turning to face her. "That's not a crime, is it? Besides, unless you're an owner, you have no more right to be here than I do." She looked at her watch. It was one o'clock. The person or persons attempting to contact her had obviously decided against it.

"Those word games are a big waste of time," the woman announced to Belle's retreating back.

"To each his own." The answer was frosty; Belle added an equally irritable, "Your dog doesn't seem too happy."

"My dog's fine."

Belle didn't answer. If the woman wanted to pick a fight, she'd have to look elsewhere.

"Don't you worry about my dog!" she called out. "Animals have as much right to run around free as humans do. It's people like you who make their lives miserable, not the folks who own them!"

Amid this tirade, Belle marched to her car, slid into the driver's seat, and locked the doors. A subcontractor for the Polycrates Agency, she told herself. What a joke! If Genie and Jamaica are are alive, I've probably done them more harm than good. alive, I've probably done them more harm than good.

21.

Rosco hit the roof-as Belle had antic.i.p.ated he would. "What do you mean you went out to Allyn's Point? Alone?" his voice demanded through the telephone line. Fear for her safety magnified the outrage in his tone.

"If someone actually kidnapped those two women, Belle, that person is playing for keeps. And if if-as you suggested in another scenario-this is an extortion scheme targeting Pepper and his millions, and the women are already dead... Then you're still dealing with a hardened criminal... and a s.a.d.i.s.tic one, to boot..." He waited a second or two, then added, "Belle, are you listening to me... ?"

"I am, yes." She stared out her office window. She knew he was right, but that didn't make the dressing-down any easier to take. In fact, her own criticism of herself made his more difficult to accept. Besides, she hadn't even told him about the threatening phone call. Not that she was about to share that that piece of information posthaste. piece of information posthaste.

"You should have called me, Belle," Rosco concluded. His anger had given way to old-fashioned worry.

"The puzzle read, 'Tell no one.'"

Rosco sighed. "Belle, you're a word person-some might say an egghead... but you're not a cop."

In spite of herself, Belle bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you should have basic training in law enforcement before dealing with criminals."

"Tom Pepper told you he didn't want the police brought in on this-and you listened to him."

"That's because I used to be a cop. I know what I'm doing."

"As opposed to me? The egghead egghead?" Belle's question was delivered in the flat, challenging tone of a statement.

Rosco paused. Belle could hear him breathing slowly and deliberately. "Look, you're a very smart person, that's all I meant," he said. "I can't quote Shakespeare. You can. French and Latin phrases don't roll off my tongue. You can jump hoops between languages. On the other hand, I've been through the police academy, and I've been out on the streets... I've learned to antic.i.p.ate problem situations." The particular stress he put on "problem" painted a vivid picture of just what those times entailed. "I also know when to carry a gun, and how to use it if I have to."

Belle didn't speak immediately. Instead, she continued gazing through the window. Midafternoon was giving way to dusk. The sky was still blue, but the color looked heavier and darker, as if the panes of intervening gla.s.s had been tinted an amber brown. "Rosco, I may not have sufficient experience with criminal investigations, but everything in that crossword indicated that I'd been designated as a liaison. If I hadn't gone alone-"

"Why you, Belle?" Although Rosco's tone was gentle, Belle found herself growing irritable again.

"Why not me? You're working for Pepper. Most folks consider us to be... to be..." Annoyance at the situation wouldn't permit her to say the word "couple" instead she opted for a noncommittal "involved."

"Only people we know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're presupposing this kidnapper-or extortionist-is a local who's attuned to the personal relationships of every citizen of Newcastle."

Belle could see Rosco's point, but her stubborn streak refused to concede the argument. "Then why were those first two crosswords sent to me, the third to Tom, and the fourth delivered to me again?"

Rosco's response was a weary: "Those are questions we don't have answers for yet."

"But I do! The first puzzle comes to me; I answer the clues, but fail to respond-or so the constructor a.s.sumes... Ditto with the second crossword... although, meanwhile I decide to publish it-and talk to Bartholomew Kerr... The puzzle's printed version and his gossip column don't appear until yesterday-Friday... But in the meantime the constructor becomes frustrated at my seeming inattention and targets Pepper, knowing he'll pa.s.s the puzzle along to me-"

"You're making a big a.s.sumption-"

"No, I'm not, Rosco! This is common sense. I know I'm right!"

"No, Belle, you don't know know it. You it. You believe believe it... That's a whole different thing... I don't mean to lecture you, but it's important not to jump to conclusions here-" it... That's a whole different thing... I don't mean to lecture you, but it's important not to jump to conclusions here-"

"You play hunches all the time. You told me so yourself... Besides, Sara 'wholeheartedly' concurred that the crossword Pepper received had direct bearing on the case. 'Wholeheartedly' was her term, not mine."

"Tell me you didn't show that puzzle to Sara."

Belle remained silent, so Rosco pushed harder. "You showed that puzzle to Sara?" He could feel himself steaming up again. "When Pepper practically ordered ordered me not to inform the police!" me not to inform the police!"

Belle's tone-and verbiage-turned immediately defensive and grand. "As a subcontractor of the Polycrates Agency, I felt it within my jurisdiction, yes... Anyway, Sara-"

"Where did you get that high-flown term 'subcontractor'?"

"From you!"

Rosco's frustration echoed through the telephone wire. "And so this employee of mine takes it upon herself to investigate a situation without informing her boss-"

"Well, you're not my boss, for one thing. Let's not get carried away-"

"Aha!" Rosco almost shouted. "Now we're getting somewhere... So this non nonemployee decides to investigate a case in which she has no jurisdiction... not to mention authority-"

But Belle was not to be bested. "Rosco! Two women's lives are at stake!"

"We don't actually know that, Belle-"

"Yes, we do!"

"Belle-"

"Okay, okay... my a.s.sumption a.s.sumption is that this is a kidnapping... But isn't that the only way for us to proceed? By hoping that these crosswords lead us to Genie and Jamaica?" is that this is a kidnapping... But isn't that the only way for us to proceed? By hoping that these crosswords lead us to Genie and Jamaica?"

Rosco didn't answer, and both, in their separate rooms, backed off. Belle glared through the windows. Evening was now marching forward; soon the panes of gla.s.s would turn black and cold. She flicked on her desk lamp, but the circle of light did nothing to dispel the sense of hastening gloom.

"Listen," she said, "this latest cryptic arrived first thing this morning-today, Sat.u.r.day... After the threatening phone call last night, it made perfect sense that I-"

"What phone call?" Rosco's tone was again on edge.

Belle groaned. She couldn't think of an answer that would a.s.suage his fears. "I didn't mean to tell you," she said quietly.

"Well, that's just swell," was his exasperated response. "That's just terrific! You put yourself at severe risk, and you don't have the courtesy to tell me?"

"It had nothing to do with courtesy, Rosco. I knew you'd try to dissuade me from going."

"You're right! That's exactly what I would have done-dissuade. And with good reason."

"But I'm trying to tell you I had had to go out to Allyn's Point alone!" to go out to Allyn's Point alone!"

"Speaking of points, points, that's mine... Someone wanted you there alone-and that person is most probably a character you shouldn't meet face-to-face." that's mine... Someone wanted you there alone-and that person is most probably a character you shouldn't meet face-to-face."

"But he-" Belle began, but Rosco overrode her.

"Belle," he said, "If you love someone, don't you want to protect them? Whatever it takes?"

Belle was silent for a long time. How could you stand on principle when someone said they loved you? "Yes," she finally answered. "Yes, you do."

"You worry about me, right?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Well... ?" he asked.

In response, she frowned at her desk, and at a well-thumbed Oxford edition of Shakespeare's complete works lying open on its surface.

"What's good for the goose..." Rosco said gently.

"Is good for the gander," was her mumbled response. Then she added a quick: "'Young blood must have its course, lad, / And every dog his day.' It's from Water Babies Water Babies... Charles Kingsley... The poem has a goose in it. That's why it came to mind, I guess... although there was this dog out at Allyn's Point..."

"We need to talk about that, Belle," Rosco answered softly. "Listen, what do you say I take you out to dinner? We can hash over the entire situation then... parameters, safety, appropriate information-exchange policy, subcontractors subcontractors, the works..."

"Promise you'll never call me an egghead again."

"Only if you positively swear you'll start considering the consequences of your actions."

"I'm not sure I know how," was Belle's quiet response.

"That's why I worry about you." Rosco chuckled a little. The stalemate was broken. "Is half an hour okay? And maybe the Athena? Besides, I've got my own news to share. One item being that Genie Pepper's half brother-and no friend of Tom's-is the beneficiary of her generous generous life-insurance policy. The second being that he up and quit his job. No one in Boston has seen hide nor hair of him since last Sat.u.r.day." life-insurance policy. The second being that he up and quit his job. No one in Boston has seen hide nor hair of him since last Sat.u.r.day."

"Yikes!" was all Belle could think to say.