The Naked Truth; A nautical murder mystery

By Daria Blackwell

Jessica and Xander sailed off in search of adventure. Sailing across oceans on their own boat was exactly the kind of restorative voyage the Lynches craved. They quit their high powered jobs, sold their house, and cast off the lines.
When Jessica witnesses a series of murders in exotic settings they embark on a convoluted course to uncover the naked truth. On finding no evidence – no bodies, no signs of struggles – their quest to answer unasked questions begins.
Tormented by helplessness, Jessica experiences bizarre dreams within which lay the clues that evaded the professionals.

The Naked Truth is set in the Atlantic Islands and the Caribbean. The description of crossing oceans as a lifestyle is based on the author’s experience. Everything else is fiction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: White Seahorse Publishing
• Release date: Feb 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370890828

Daria Blackwell

Daria Blackwell is a USCG-licensed captain who, together with her husband, has crossed the Atlantic three times in their 57-foot ketch. This was after a longstanding career in the United States during which she was a scientist, scientific writer, creative copywriter, then strategic planner and top level executive in marketing and communications firms. Daria is co-author of non-fiction books Happy Hooking. The Art of Anchoring, Cruising the Wild Atlantic Way and Onyx The Cruising Kitty. The Naked Truth is her debut novel.

Book preview

Please Note:

This is a work of fiction. The characters in it are imaginary. If certain characters resemble people in real life, it is because people in real life often resemble characters from a novel.

Key Words

Mystery

Sailing, cruising, yachting, boating

Europe

Caribbean Islands

Travelogue

Fiction novel

Suspense

Crime, murder

Adventure

Ocean, blue water, sea

Copyright ©2017 Daria Blackwell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

White Seahorse Publishing, a Division of Knowledge Clinic, Ltd., Kilmeena, Westport, Co. Mayo, Ireland, Reg. No. 499215.

With thanks and love to Alex who inspired me

to write my own stories

and to live the life that creates them.

And with remembrance of my sister, Oksana, who taught me to love books.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1. The Canary Blues

Chapter 2. Rising Tide

Chapter 3. Ocean Calling

Chapter 4. Land Ho!

Chapter 5. Island Time

Chapter 6. Truth or Consequences

Chapter 7. Going Home

Post Script

Chapter 1.

The Canary Blues

Hey, hand me those binoculars. Something looks strange over there. I think the rocks are moving. Did we have a lot to drink last night?

No more than usual, darling, remarked Xander.

Holy crapola, cried Jessica, those rocks are covered in naked human bodies. It looks like they’re all men. They look like lizards sunning on the hot rocks. Hot bodies, actually. How interesting!

Hey, let me have a look. What are you talking about? asked Xander as he snatched the binoculars out of her grasp.

You’re right. Those rocks are covered with naked bodies. You think it’s a nudist colony? asked Xander.

I don’t know. But why just men? Do you see any women?

Yeah, there’s one. Holy moly, what a body, exclaimed Xander as he let out a whistle.

Hey, those are my binoculars give them back, Jessica proclaimed as she grabbed them to get back to the spy task at hand. It was hard to focus in the rolly anchorage.

As she adjusted the binoculars to her setting, she saw the woman Xander had remarked on running casually down the beach along the edge of the rocks. She had to keep to the edge of the water and Jessica couldn’t help noticing that the waves washed each of her footsteps away behind her, almost like she’d never stepped down.

There was a commotion behind the rocks. She couldn’t quite see what was going on, but the naked woman went to investigate. The next thing Jessica saw ruined her day, most likely her week, and possibly her life. A man grabbed the naked woman from behind and stabbed her. Jessica screamed but, after pulling back involuntarily, put the binoculars back to her eyes.

What? What??? Xander asked.

I, I, I think I just witnessed a murder, whispered Jessica. I just saw a man stab that woman in the chest and pull her back behind some rocks. There was bright red blood streaming down her body, she screamed.

Xander grabbed the binoculars back again and focused on the spot he last saw the beautiful naked woman, I don’t see anything now. She’s vanished. And there’s no sign of anyone else in the vicinity either.

You saw her, Xander, and I saw her get stabbed and pulled behind the rocks.

Jessica caught her breath and said, Xander, what are we going to do? We have to go ashore and see if we can help her.

They rushed to the stern of their sailboat. Most conveniently, the stern design for Arcadia, the Lynch’s Oyster 47, had a bathing platform trimmed with teak slats and stainless steel steps for easy access to the stern deck where their dinghy was tied up. They had left the dinghy in the water, thinking that they might want to go exploring ashore later on. The anchorage was behind a tiny rock island and seemed snug as long as the wind didn’t shift. It was the only anchorage in Gran Canaria and the Lynches had had their fill of marina life. It was looking like the anchorage was proving far more exciting than any of the marinas. Maybe too much so.

They boarded the dinghy as fast as humanly possible, grabbing life jackets along the way. They had a hard and fast rule not to break any rules, and one of those was always wearing life jackets. Having oars as back up in the dinghy was another. It wouldn’t be sensible to put themselves at risk along with anyone else already at risk.

They had anchored fairly close in to avoid the swell and they found a tiny beach on which to get onto the shore. It was a fair distance from the ‘rock lounge’. They secured the dinghy and made their way quickly down the beach trying not to look at the bodies stretched out on the rocks, now all moving in unison to peer at the couple disturbing their peace.

We’re getting close, I think, said Jessica. I see the rock formation where the woman disappeared just ahead.

Xander shook his head, I don’t know, it’s all looking different from here and one rock formation looks a lot like the next.

Jessica’s scientific training had taken over while she had trained her binoculars on the shore. She had noted the shapes and numbers of rocks in the vicinity of the crime scene, vegetation that was remarkable, how far away other people were reclining, and any other distinguishing features. She had noted that the rocks in question lined up with a tower in the distance, and if she could line up the boat with the tower, she’d know exactly which set of rocks to explore first.

Over here, I remember that cactus beside the rock. And you see it all lines up with the tower in the background, Jessica said. This is where she was grabbed.

She couldn’t help looking at the sand where the water had retreated just a few inches. She saw no sign of footsteps, just as she had noted through the binoculars. Their footsteps in contrast, now as the tide went out, were readily visible and showed the track all the way back to their dinghy.

Jessica made her way between the rocks to an area just inside. It formed a cove shielded from outside view. There was nothing there. No blood, no victim, no body, no signs of a struggle, no perpetrator, and certainly nothing else that might suggest a crime scene.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking? broached Xander first, but he already knew the answer.

He could hear Jessica’s thoughts in his head loud and clear. She had always said she was a ‘sender’ and an empath; he knew it was true. How many times had he gotten up to do something when Jessica was already there doing it? How many times did he decide to order some exotic dish in a restaurant only to get the complaint that that had been her choice? They had tried to prove it many times, just sitting and ‘thinking’ to each other to see if they could communicate without speaking. It never worked when they tried, only when they didn’t try. But they knew they had an unusual connection that others just wouldn’t understand.

I’m thinking I don’t get it. I know what I saw, and I know you saw the girl in question. She was here. But now there’s no sign of her, no sign of a struggle and no sign that she was ever even here, summed up Jessica, totally perplexed.

Let’s look around some more, maybe this is the wrong set of rocks, maybe we’ll find some clues, suggested Xander.

They continued searching in both directions along the beach and up from the rocks where they started with no luck. There were no tracks, no bodies, no spilled blood, no murder weapons and surprisingly not even a piece of trash. Sensing frustration setting in, they sat down on a nice flat warm rock to think.

So here it is. You saw a beautiful young woman running down the beach. You whistled. I then took a look and saw her get stabbed and dragged behind the rocks. You then looked again and saw no woman on the beach where there had been one before. Right?

Right.

We have no evidence that she was ever here, or that anyone else was ever here. Right?

Right.

Okay, so we have to go to the police with our story, concluded Jessica.

Right. We tell them you think you saw a beautiful naked woman stabbed on a nudist beach but there is no blood, no body, no perpetrator and no other witnesses, summarized Xander.

Hold on. There might be other witnesses. Let’s talk to some of these guys here. Maybe someone saw something, suggested Jessica.

Yeah, right! Neither one of us speaks Spanish, but you and I are going to interview a bunch of naked guys sunning like lizards on a beach in the Canary Islands, to which we just cleared in as transient guests. And what are we going to ask them? posed Xander.

We’re going to ask them if they saw a beautiful girl running down the beach and if they saw anything that happened to her after that. We can describe her, right?

Oh yes, I can describe her, said Xander a little too enthusiastically. But I don’t see any of these guys having any interest in answering any questions from strangers. And if we find out anything, what then? Do we go to the police? What do we tell them? We were spying on a nudist colony with binoculars like peeping Toms and think we saw a gorgeous female get stabbed and abducted, but when we went to help her there was no one there? They’ll think we have a stash of ganja on board. They’ll probably take the boat apart or put us in jail or, worse, in a psyche ward. I don’t think I want to go there, darling.

Why do you always have to be so logical? said Jessica exasperated.

Look, I was all for helping the poor defenseless drop-dead gorgeous – er, I didn’t mean it that way – woman, but now that there’s no crime, there’s no one to help, is there?

I guess you’re right, Xander, but I just don’t feel right about letting this go, said Jessica feeling dejected.

Let’s get back to the boat. Maybe relaxing will help us come up with something, okay?

Okay. But I want to keep a watch out in case anyone makes a move, said Jessica as they turned back toward the dinghy. She noted any suspicious thing on the beach as they walked. She especially noticed their second set of tracks and no others. Had she made this all up?

They had to drag the dinghy a short distance as the tide had gone out a bit since they arrived. The tidal variation was only about four feet. Luckily, the dinghy with its engine was not too heavy to drag.

They got back to Arcadia just as the afternoon sun started to sink closer to the horizon. Perfect timing for sundowners, and Lord knows, they could use one today. They settled into the cockpit in silence with their drinks and their binoculars keeping a vigil for as long as the light allowed. One by one, the rock lizards departed, donning street clothes before heading out to the mainstream world beyond the rocks.

Jessica wondered if one of them was the man she saw.

Xander wondered what happened to the drop-dead gorgeous woman, if indeed he had seen her at all or if Jessica had just given him the suggestion.

Arcadia, Xander and Jessica’s comfortable condo on the water, was a 1990 Oyster 47 center cockpit two-masted ketch. They had bought her six years earlier while wrapping up their intense marketing careers in the United States.

They had always known that eventually they’d go sailing. The two-year plan turned into the five-year plan which turned into the ten-year plan, until 9/11 got them back on an accelerated track. One day, Jessica had announced in public that they had plans for sailing off. They had started looking for a blue water boat to replace their Frers 41 racer cruiser almost immediately.

They had loved the Frers. She was fast, comfortable and beautiful to look at. They could pick her out in any harbor. But she just wasn’t right for crossing oceans. They had thought about modifying her, but the modifications would run the risk of changing her sailing characteristics and that would be unfair. She was too good for that. So finally they had decided they would find a nice new home for her and find a new chariot for their own next phase.

Ideally, they had wanted the flexible sail plan of a ketch. And they had wanted the waterline but not the beam – Jessica had thought it would be hard to negotiate through the cabin while heeling in one of those modern wide beam designs. She also hadn’t liked the way the plumb bows looked and Xander wasn’t keen on how the flat sterns pounded in rough seas. They wondered what had happened to those sleek boat designs. You know, the boat-shaped boats of the olden times? They were beautiful to look at and a joy to sail.

When they found Arcadia, she was in great condition. She had been recently equipped for extended blue water cruising and was listed for quick sale by an owner with more money than time. They jumped at the chance to own this beauty. It fit their check list perfectly. She was outfitted for short-handed sailing, which the Lynches figured they would be doing most of the time. Cutter-rigged, and unusually a ketch, she sailed like a charm. She had a high performance bulb keel and a fully protected skeg hung rudder for safety. This little girl would take them anywhere they wanted to go. She was also comfortable at anchor.

When they had looked up what Arcadia meant, they were hooked. Arcadia was the Greek name for Utopia, meaning ‘a vision of harmony with nature’. A good dose of nature was something they were desperately in need of after their intense lives in the concrete battlegrounds of Manhattan and New Jersey.

So they had bought her and sold everything else. They sailed off across the Atlantic to a new life on the other side. They had sailed from Nova Scotia to Ireland, where they had built a lovely cottage by the sea. Now they were underway again. This time they were heading to the Caribbean for a few months of warm sun as a reward for all those years of hard work. They had sailed down from Ireland to Spain where they had enjoyed poking into the Rias and eating tapas for several weeks.

Then they had moved on to Portugal where they had spent another several weeks in Lisbon, riding their folding Montague bikes all over the cosmopolitan city. They had loved everything about Portugal: the climate, the multicultural population, the friendly people, the excellent food and wines, the history, and the very affordable cost of living. They had thought for certain they’d be coming back this way.

From there they had sailed to the Madeira Islands, painting their boat logo on the wall at Porto Santo, then hopping on to Madeira itself. What a beautiful place that was: the lovely ancient city of Funchal, amazing walking along the hills, and the impressive mountains.

They would have liked to have stayed there a lot longer, but the seasons don’t wait and one has to keep going when one gets into the passage route mode. They pledged to make a circuit of the Atlantic islands another time.

Finally, they had made it as far as the Canaries, the staging area for people waiting for the right time to cross the Atlantic to the Caribbean. They made landfall at Tenerife. It was a lovely lush island and they had enjoyed hiking up to Mount Teide.

They were having a wonderful adventure, and this was just the beginning.

Good morning, my love, said Xander as he caressed Jessica’s glistening skin. Did you sleep well?

"Uh, no, first, I had an impossible time falling asleep. That murder scene kept going through my head. Then the wind shifted and the rocking motion kept me awake. I was glad I’d applied the Transderm Scop patch earlier or I might have gotten really seasick, too.

When I did fall asleep, I kept having these wacky short dreams like cartoons. In one, there was a WC Fields-like character who walked up to me and said, ‘Say, did you know the nudist was acquitted of murder? Yes, wellllllllll, they couldn’t pin the wrap on him.’ It was so bad, I wanted to laugh out loud in my dream but I couldn’t do anything. Then Mae West pushed him out of the way and said ‘It's not the men in your life that count, it's the life in your women.’ What did I do to deserve this? It’s not a laughing matter. What if this woman really was killed?

Whoa, darling, don’t go getting all upset. It’s not your fault that someone out there may have come to harm. You didn’t harm her. You don’t even know if there is a ‘her’. And you don’t know who, or even if there is a ‘he’, who done it. Come on, let’s get some breakfast and decide what we’re going to do, Xander said soothingly as he brushed Jessica’s hair from her face.

Okay, what’s for breakfast? I’m starving, announced Jessica jumping out of the aft berth with sudden energy. I think I’ll go for a swim before breakfast.

Good idea. I think we have some ham. I’ll make scrambled ham and eggs. Uh, that’s scrambled eggs and ham. I’ll get the coffee and tea going. Xander went off to get breakfast started, adding, Make sure the swim ladder is down before you jump in.

Jessica brushed her teeth then donned her swimsuit before taking her daily medications. Getting older meant things didn’t quite work as well as they used to. She checked that the patch she wore for seasickness was still in place. Jessica suffered from terrible seasickness and since the anchorage was exposed to swell, she had thought it best to prevent the mal de mer.

Despite the fact that there were nudists all over the beach where they were anchored, she didn’t feel comfortable going au naturelle herself. It was fine when they were alone, but she had always thought it would be impolite to behave in a way that might offend the local people. If a fisherman came by, for example, she wouldn’t want to be discussing today’s catch in the buff.

Jessica lowered the swim ladder and had a quick look around. Activity was just beginning on the beach as men walked down and shed their earthly disguises. She wondered if they each had their own favorite rock or if they chose a new one each day. Who were these people? She’d probably never know.

As Jessica dove into the sea, she thought about the woman she had seen on the beach. What if right now someone came along underwater and pulled her under? Would anyone see it happen? And if they did, would they be able to do anything?

As she swam laps around the boat, Jessica speculated that the man had wanted to dominate. That’s what sex crime was about. But just because she was naked doesn’t make it a sex crime; this was murder. What could be the motive for such a crime against a beautiful woman?

No, she didn’t think she was making any progress. She’d better let it go and chalk it up to an unsolved mystery, one that she’d be glad to leave behind. Xander was right. There was little they could do.

Jessica felt a little better. Not only did the swim bring her clarity of thought, it woke her up to a new day and a new goal. It was time to pull up anchor and move on to the next destination. But first, she’d have to partake of the luscious-smelling scrambled ham and eggs. Oops, that’s scrambled eggs and ham, she chuckled to herself.

One slice of bread or two? asked Xander as Jessica slinked below drying her hair with a towel.

Just one please. It smells divine. Did you do something special? she asked.

Yeah, I found some of those mixed herbs we had picked up in Lisbon and they came alive in the eggs. I’ve been trying not to slobber into the pan.

You know, I think it’s time to move on. I’ve been thinking about where to go from here. It’s not time to cross the Atlantic yet. Our insurance says we have to wait until December 1st. That’s the official end of hurricane season. So what do you say we pull up anchor and try La Gomera. The guidebook says the new marina there is really nice, Jessica suggested.

Sounds good to me. As long as they don’t have any nudist colonies on the beach there. I’ve had enough excitement for one trip, replied Xander. Let’s look at the charts and the weather reports after breakfast. It’s not very far.

Xander and Jessica prepared to weigh anchor and stowed all their gear before the short passage to La Gomera. Their trusted new scoop anchor had already held them tightly to the bottom through some very trying conditions. It had made the difference between feeling comfortable going ashore or passing on shore leave altogether. With the new anchor, they had even felt secure when they slept. The old CQR had caused some really uncomfortable nights at anchor. They had learned so much they could write a book about it all.

"Hmmm, what do you think about writing a book together, Xander? I was just thinking about how much we’ve learned since we went off cruising, especially about anchors and anchoring. Maybe we should write it all down and share it with everyone so they don’t have to do all the work we did? Huh, what do you think? We could give it a catchy title, like ‘Happy Hooking’. We could tell lots of stories to illustrate the points. It would be great fun to read, unlike some of those dry technical tomes. It would be a shame to waste all that research," said Jessica as she went about the business of removing sail covers.

That’s not a bad idea. The last book about boat anchoring was written eons ago and is totally out of date. There have been so many advances in gear that it’s a different world compared with even just ten years ago. And it’s totally confusing at first to read all those anchor comparison reports. They all say something different. We could analyze everything and present it in a really organized, rational and simple way. You may have hit on something. But are we really the experts? queried Xander.

One thing I learned in business is that if you say you’re the expert, then you become the expert. Hell, I can write about any subject after writing about diseases and treatments. You’re a bona fide double Master – Master Mariner with a Masters in Marine Biology. This is a piece of cake in comparison, answered Jessica authoritatively. And we’re both experienced speakers. We could go on the lecture circuit and teach people about anchoring effectively so they can sleep better at night.

Xander went about securing the dinghy on deck and making sure the windlass was free to do its work. He listened to Jessica go on about how they already had so many pictures and it wouldn’t take long to get a draft together.

I’m glad I applied Transderm Scop the other night when the anchorage was rocky. It’s supposed to be a little boisterous out there today and I don’t want to get seasick even on a short passage, she said as she ducked down below.

When she came back up, Xander said, Okay, hon, I’m game. Let’s get it done. You do an outline draft, then I’ll take a crack at filling it in. The best thing about indie publishing is we can do it from anywhere. Paradise sure sounds like the right place to start.

Right, well, as soon as we get to La Gomera, I’ll draft an outline. I’ll start with a bit of history about anchors and how anchor design has evolved, then I’ll go into the characteristics of all the new anchors, I’ll cover how they compare in tests around the world, then I’ll leave the rodes to you, and the technique, too. We can actually write it in tandem in sections and then hook them together.

Yep, but you should include a chapter on anchorage etiquette. That’s always the best thread on the forums. We certainly have enough stories to go around on that subject.

Right, we have to start collecting pictures and stories to illustrate everything. We’ll start now. I’ll take pictures of you giving hand signals, Jessica said as she reached for her camera.

This is going to be fun. Okay, ready at the helm, she called out as she situated herself.

Xander activated the windlass while Jessica stood by the helm. She nudged Arcadia forward gently then stood by ready to boost the throttle as soon as the anchor left the bottom and they started drifting. Xander took up the slack then raised his hand to signal that the anchor chain was now straight up and the anchor was pulling out. Jessica snapped a few shots.

Xander raised his hand again with an okay to indicate the anchor was up and on the bow. Jessica snapped one more quick shot, then put the boat in gear. They had plenty of room for maneuvering as theirs was the only boat in the anchorage. That of course meant that they were the only witnesses to a crime that may or may not have been committed.

Jessica could not help taking one last look back to see if there was any indication that she wasn’t going crazy. Nope, there was none.

Chapter 2.

Rising Tide

They raised the mainsail, the mizzen, the yankee, and finally the staysail. Arcadia was in her element, happiest in this configuration. They were thrilled with the cutter ketch rig setup. Having two masts really afforded them as many options as they needed to suit any conditions they might encounter. Sometimes they got lazy and sailed with only the yankee and mizzen. Known among sailors as the ‘jib and jigger’ sail arrangement, it allowed them to sail comfortably in higher winds or on short jaunts without having to tackle the big main sail.

It was a glorious day, perfect for a swift passage. They kept a sharp lookout for pilot whales known to be resident in the area. This was one species of cetaceans they hadn’t seen yet. Not much bigger than dolphins, pilot whales were the smallest of the whale species. Jessica placed her identification chart under the spray hood for quick reference when the time came.

The conditions were good for sightings of wildlife, with a steady 20 knot breeze but not too much chop. Jessica went forward with binoculars as they rounded the tip of Tenerife and turned up toward La Gomera. The winds there were typically north-easterlies which could funnel between the mountainous islands creating ‘acceleration zones’. Xander stayed at the helm ready to spill wind out of the mainsail, not wanting to chance a knockdown.

It wasn’t long before Jessica called out, Thar she blows.

They still did that every time they spotted a whale. Actually, it was a whole pod of long finned pilot whales. The resident population was estimated to consist of around 300 whales that did not migrate but rather lived there year round. They saw a dozen or so in that particular pod travelling together between the islands. The 20-foot long whales could be identified by their rounded dorsal fin, their dark almost black coloring and their distinctive spout, which produces an impressive fountain of water.

Wow, look at that, shouted out Xander as one blew out forcefully. Hey, they’re coming our way.

You better keep your distance. Several of them appear to have young ones with them. We don’t want to get between a mother and her calf. I’ve heard of whales ramming boats to protect their young, cautioned Jessica.

The beautiful creatures swam alongside languorously, studying the humans aboard their craft with interest and