Bone Island 01 - Ghost Shadow (8 page)

“I think God is busy, Sean. The world is a mess, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t think that he’s coming down to talk to me,” she said.

“Katie, please. I know you…think you see things,” Sean said. “I’m just…”

“Sean, you think that whoever killed Tanya Barnard is still around? It’s been ten years.”

“David has come home to find the killer, Katie. I’m willing to bet that he’s making that pretty clear. And if he’s right, the killer is going to be afraid. Please, Katie…listen to me?”

“Love you to death, big brother,” she said. “And I’m listening. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t see things.”

“That’s what I need to hear, kid,” Sean said. He was quiet for a minute. “And be careful.”

“Of what?”

He was silent, but it was as if she could hear a single name in the silence between them.

David.

“Big brother, you either believe he’s guilty, or you don’t.”

“I don’t.”

“Then?” she asked.

“It’s-sad, sometimes…”

“You believe in a person or you don’t.”

“I do,” he said.

“Then?”

“All right, let’s say I believe in him. Belief isn’t all black-and-white. And not only that, but what if someone had been after him? What if that person is still around? Just watch out for yourself. Careful on getting too friendly.”

“I’m thrilled I’m going to get to see you,” she said, ignoring the warning.

“Yeah. See you soon! And behave until then, huh?”

“I’m just a regular angel, Sean.”

His snort was loud and clear. “Love you, Katie. And behave, I mean it.”

“Oh! We’re going in circles here, dear boy! I thought David was your friend, Sean.”

“He was. He is, I assume,” Sean said. “But…”

“Oh, my God! You are such a liar. You suspected him, too!”

“No. I never did. All right, that’s a lie. I don’t want to believe that David could have been guilty. I mean, I don’t think he could have been guilty. But the thing is, no matter how mature a man he might have been trying to be, Tanya did hurt him. I understand that people think that she might have found him that night, that he might have been angry. I don’t believe it, it’s just…she is dead. David was a big strong kid from the time he was ten. But he was always-sane. Craig taught him to be respectful at all times. He didn’t have a maniacal or crazy temper. So, I really believe he was innocent. Except, inside me somewhere, I suppose, I couldn’t help but let some of the theories and rumors get to me.”

“But now-you don’t believe it was David? Or you don’t want to believe it was David?”

Sean was quiet a moment. “Yes.”

“To which?”

“To both.”

“Okay, I’m saying that it wasn’t David. Then who?”

“I don’t know, Katie.”

“The police questioned you. I read it in a book.”

“They questioned everyone. I had been hanging at Uncle Jamie’s place that night-O’Hara’s. I saw Tanya there. I told them the truth.”

“Do you remember who left the bar?” Katie asked.

“If I do, kid, I’m not telling you.”

“What?”

“Stay out of it, do you hear me?”

“Love you, big bro. Losing the connection,” Katie said. “See you when you get here.”

She cut off the conversation before her brother could give her more instructions.

She looked back to her paper. Her brother’s name was the last thing she had written down. She scratched through his name. Sean certainly never hurt anyone. And neither did her uncle. She scratched through his name, as well. She looked at the list, shaking her head. It couldn’t have been Liam, or Pete Dryer, or…

Lord! No wonder the police had never discovered the truth. No matter what they thought, the murderer had to have been a passerby in the Keys. Had to have been!

She heard a soft sound at the door and looked up. Bartholomew was back; he hadn’t opened and closed the door, but he did make a strange noise as he came through it.

“Where have you been?” she asked him.

“Eavesdropping,” he said.

“On who?”

He pulled out his pocket watch, which couldn’t possibly work, but it seemed to, at least for Bartholomew. “You’d better get going. You’re going to be late for work. Not to mention that your uncle owns the place and you should be keeping an eye on it.”

She frowned and jumped up, realizing the time. She swore softly, gathered her purse and her keys and headed out. She closed the door; Bartholomew stepped through.

“Where were you eavesdropping?” she demanded.

“The police station,” Bartholomew informed her.

“Oh?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you,” Bartholomew said slowly.

“You wretched pirate-”

“Privateer!”

“I’m going to call for an exorcist and send you downward with your scalawag friends!” she threatened.

He laughed, but then saw her eyes. “All right, all right. I was at the police station, and the officers have been warned to keep an eye on David Beckett,” he told her. “See, I shouldn’t have said anything. They weren’t sure what had happened because there was no evidence. There’s some discussion about the fact that David is still obsessed with Tanya and her murder. Evidence! Like that mattered in my day. They just hanged us right and left, right and left!”

She paused, looking at him. “So you were hanged? You never told me that you were hanged!”

In his astral form, he puffed up, shoulders back, head high. “I was a victim of false arrest, Miss O’Hara. And my end was untimely and unjust!” He appeared to let out his breath. “But that doesn’t matter now, Katie. What does matter is that you seem to be getting chummy with a murderer.”

She shook her head, thinking she might be crazy. “He’s not a murderer, Bartholomew. He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know. I just-know.”

“You must keep your distance,” Bartholomew said.

“Don’t worry-my brother’s on his way here. And, supposedly, Liam Beckett has the files now and they’re working the murder as a cold case.”

“I don’t like it, not one bit,” Bartholomew said.

“Well, I’m sorry. And please hush up and mind yourself. My uncle may own O’Hara’s, but I’d just as soon his customers don’t all insist to him that I’m crazy and talk to myself!”

What seemed to lurk in the human soul was odd, David decided. Being in Key West didn’t bother him. Being in his grandparents’ home didn’t disturb him, either; it was actually good. The old place spoke of conch chowder on nights when the temperature dipped to forty, lemonade and good seafood. Some aspects of the house needed updating, and some remained cozy and warm. His grandmother had knitted throws for the furniture, and they were as neat and tidy as the day she had died. Her tea service remained on a small Duncan Fife table by the kitchen. His room had changed little-his rock band and Sports Illustrated posters were still on the wall. Okay, so that needed updating.

Being here, however, was not painful.

The museum was painful.

And when he walked into O’Hara’s Pub with Liam, it was painful, as well.

It was the last place anyone admitted to seeing Tanya alive.

O’Hara’s hadn’t changed. The bar was well-crafted mahogany, and there were a number of booths with deep cushions and high wooden backs. Wooden double doors opened to the sidewalk. Air-conditioning slipped out, but that happened with most establishments on Duval Street. O’Hara’s served typical Irish fare, fish and chips, shepherd’s pie and a choice of corned beef or Canadian bacon and cabbage. “Leprechauns” were thin-sliced beef rolled in pastry and “banshees” were drink concoctions that seemed to mix every alcohol known to man.

The stage offered Irish music during the week, and now, karaoke some nights. It was apparently a popular notion because the place was packed when he entered with Liam. It seemed, however, that unlike many places on Duval, the music was kept at a nondeafening level, and at the back tables, it would actually be possible to carry on a conversation. Closer to the stage, it was louder, but not so painful that your head pounded or you felt the need to escape.

Katie was at her computer, listening to a group of girls, smiling and suggesting something, as they seemed perplexed over their choices. They all smiled and stepped back. Katie looked up at him suddenly, almost as if someone had tapped her on the shoulder and pointed out that he was there. She didn’t smile, she just stared at him. Then again, he told himself, at least she didn’t appear to be angry.

He noticed that a lot of locals still came to O’Hara’s. It was a little closer to the southern side of the island than some of the other popular and must-see haunts, such as Sloppy Joe’s or Captain Tony’s. Many of the bars didn’t sell food, either, especially after a certain time. O’Hara’s served until 1:00 a.m., and when Jamie O’Hara was home, it might serve as late as 5:00 a.m., depending on Jamie’s mood and who was in the place. That wasn’t written on any of the brochures given out by the Chamber of Commerce.

“What would you like?”

He turned. Liam was smiling at the waitress, calling her by name. Obviously, he knew her. Clarinda.

“Shepherd’s pie and a Guinness,” he said. “Thank you.”

At first, it appeared that the girl was trying not to look at him, then she stared him in the eyes and cleared her throat. “Welcome back, David,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“I’m Clarinda. I’m a conch, too,” she said.

“Nice to meet you, Clarinda,” he said.

She blushed. “You spoke to my class when I was in grade school. You talked to us about being a soldier.”

“I hope I said all the right things,” he said.

She smiled. “You did. Well, um. Well. Welcome back.”

She went off to get their order. A group of young people in Florida State T-shirts were singing a Kiss song. They weren’t bad.

“You know, I don’t mind being here-but what are we doing here?” Liam asked him.

“Having dinner?”

“There are lots of restaurants here,” Liam said.

“Retracing the past,” David said.

“The last place she was seen,” Liam said. “God, David, you know I want to help you. I just don’t see what being here is going to do for us.”

David lifted his hands. “I don’t know, but doesn’t it seem odd that the principals are reappearing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Liam, you’re the detective,” David said. “All right-so I can’t help but see things that may not be here on this. But look who just got a job busing the place.”

Liam turned around as David suggested, and saw that Danny Zigler was cleaning tables in the back.

“He wasn’t working here when I talked to him this morning,” David pointed out. “And let’s see if I’m right… Yes, yes, I am. There’s Sam Barnard at the bar.”

The FSU kids left the stage; a group of balding businessmen went up to butcher Billy Joel, but they seemed to have a good time doing it.

“Sam is here because you’re here,” Liam said flatly. “David, I pulled the files, I supported you in there today, I’m on it. I intend to give it my all. But locals have been coming to O’Hara’s forever. It’s a hot spot for those who live on the island.”

“All right, Sam is in town because I’m in town-I spent some time with him today. And I’m sure Sam is in O’Hara’s tonight for the same reason I am-it was the last place Tanya was seen. But what about Danny Zigler?”

“Zigler is always looking for work. He lost out when the museum closed,” Liam pointed out.

Clarinda came with their stouts. “Food will be right up, gentlemen,” she said.

“Thanks,” Liam told her. “How’s Jonas?”

“Doing well, thanks. He’s still doing dive tours. He’ll be by later.”

“Great, we’ll see him then. Hey, Clarinda, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. You’re not walking home alone after your shift ends are you?” Liam said.

“I never do. Yell at Katie, though. She’s terrible. I’ll be right back,” she said, and hurried over to another table to take an order.

A man David vaguely remembered as being Marty… Something went up to sing. He was good. He had a deep baritone and did a sea ditty.

Katie announced that they were gearing up in Key West for Fantasy Fest, and then Pirates in Paradise. Any folks who returned for the party days would see Marty Jenkins performing.

People started clanging beer mugs on the tables. They were chanting something. Katie stood up and beckoned to Clarinda.

The girls did a Broadway number. It was actually very funny, and David discovered that it wasn’t exactly Broadway, but rather Off-Broadway. The language was fast and furious, and both girls, though laughing, excelled with it. The audience went wild with clapping, but Katie quickly moved on, announcing an Elvis number by a fellow who would also be performing at Fantasy Fest.

Elvis announced that during Fantasy Fest, he painted on his show duds. He sang, and again, he was someone who did a really nice rendition of “Blue Suede Shoes.”

Their meals arrived. David had his fork halfway to his mouth when he noted that Katie was staring out the door. When Elvis finished, the place clapped enthusiastically. Katie didn’t seem to notice. She seemed unaware of anything; she stared at the open doors as if the bright lights of heaven had suddenly exploded there.

As if she had seen a ghost.

To his incredulity, she stood, totally heedless of Elvis leaving and her empty stage. She raced to the doors and straight through them.

He leapt to his feet, and followed.

H e was stunned to see Katie O’Hara suddenly on the street. She was staring after someone-as if she had just seen a long-dead relative.

And she was making her way down Duval. The crowd had thinned, but she was oblivious of the people who remained out.

She was chasing someone.

David Beckett was on the street, too, searching for Katie, then following her.

She seemed to be in some kind of a daze, intent on nothing but her purpose.

“Katie!” Beckett called, seeing her, racing after her. He reached Katie. Caught her by her shoulders and spun her around with surprise.

He couldn’t have known her, couldn’t have really known her, she’d been a kid back then.

But he’d known her brother, of course. Sean. Who had gotten out of town when it all broke, as well.

Beckett shook her gently, saying her name again, and then once again.

It was bizarre. She snapped out of whatever spell had gripped her. She seemed surprised to be in the street, there, with him. He was touching her. And her eyes met his. There was no hostility in them, just curiosity.

She shook her head then. Beckett was still concerned. Katie seemed to be determined to assure him that everything was all right. What was she saying to him?

He could tell…

There was just something about the two.

There was tenderness in Beckett’s eyes. It wasn’t the same kind of tenderness a man might show the younger sibling of an old friend.

And his hands. The way that he touched her…

The way that they stood. Why not? She was a stunning young woman. And Beckett…ah, Beckett. He played the part. The sterling son of a sterling family. Tall and handsome, a vet, an educated man, a famed photographer…

He felt his fists tensing into knots at his side.

Yes, there was something there.

Regrettable. Katie was a good kid. She didn’t sleep around, she didn’t drink herself silly. But it looked as if Katie was going to be the one. Maybe not first…maybe that would be too obvious far too quickly. But Katie would be the one who mattered.

Katie wasn’t as alarmed by what had happened as she was by the fact that David Beckett had followed her, that he had seen her.

And she couldn’t even try to explain.

I finally saw a ghost who might be Tanya. No, she probably is Tanya. She was in the cemetery today. I think she’s trying to reach me. I thought there was something familiar about her, and, of course, there was. I’ve seen her picture, I saw it years ago.

“I could have sworn I saw an old friend,” she lied. “I mean, I could have sworn it, but…I guess I was wrong. I thought it was…Janis Seacloud,” she said. She’d had to search her mind swiftly for the name of anyone she had gone to school with whom she was certain had left town years ago and not returned. He wouldn’t know her friends, of course. Still, a lie had to be as close to the truth as possible.

Bartholomew was beside her, as well.

“Oh, good save, young lady,” he told her. “I mean, seriously, what was that? I thought you’d lost your mind. And you say I’m going to make you look crazy! You’re doing just fine on that all by yourself.”

“Stop!” she murmured.

“Pardon?” David asked, frowning. He still had his hands on her shoulders. She liked the feel of them.

But they were still standing in the street, and she was looking more unbalanced every second.

“Oh, God, I ran out in the middle of a song!” she said. She turned, escaping his hold, and hurried back.

She paused at the door, looking back at David. “Um, thank you. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to alarm anyone… I’m… Thanks!”

She hurried back to the microphone at her station, and called up the group of partying girls she’d helped choose a song. It was an old Madonna song, and the group had a lot of fun doing it. She felt unnerved, and prayed for the business of the place and the music to calm her sense of unease.

For God’s sake, she’d seen ghosts forever. Sometimes they approached her-most often they didn’t. Only Bartholomew had ever decided that he needed a best friend among the living!

“Steady, kid, steady,” Bartholomew whispered to her.

“Did you see her?” Katie asked.

“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re a ghost.”

“Right! And do you know every tourist walking down the street? Tourists are living, you’re living. Does it mean that you know everyone? No! Just hold it together, Katie O’Hara. And stay away from this whole thing. I know you’re thinking that girl was Tanya. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t. Doesn’t matter-you need to stay out of it and away from David.”

Katie ignored him. She needed to get through the night.

“Katie?” he persisted.

“Bartholomew, you need to make up your mind. You said that you liked David, but you keep suggesting that he might be a murderer.”

“I do like him.”

“Okay, so?”

“He still may be a murderer.”

She groaned and turned her attention to her computer.

“What the hell happened?” Liam asked David as he took his chair next to his cousin.

“Beats me. I’ve never seen anyone with a look like that… She said she saw an old friend.”

“It’s still bizarre,” Liam noted. “I guess I’ll hang around and walk her home. I’ve never seen Katie behave so oddly. And it looks like she’s talking to herself.”

Clarinda swept over to the table; she had heard Liam. “Anything else for the moment, fellows? Oh, and she isn’t talking to herself-she sings along with the music.”

“Of course,” Liam said.

“How late does she keep the music going?” David asked.

“It’s Saturday night; she’ll go to three,” Clarinda said. “Jamie O’Hara says that three is just right. By then, folks are in, and the place stays open, so people will stay. And hard-core karaoke folks can go down the street to Rick’s. Share the wealth, so he says.”

She smiled, arched a brow, saw they wanted nothing else at the moment and moved on to check on other tables.

“Don’t worry about hanging around,” David told Liam. “I’ll stay.”

“No, I’ve known Katie a long time now. And…there’s an interesting, rowdy crew in here tonight.”

“Liam, I don’t work in the morning. You do.”

“All right. You stay. But don’t decide she’s all right, okay? Make sure you see her all the way home.”

“I will,” David promised.

Soon after Liam left, Sam walked over to his table. “How’s it going?”

“Slowly.”

Sam nodded and lifted his beer, indicating Danny Zigler, who was busing a table nearby. “There’s a suspicious character for you,” he said.

“Danny?”

“Scrawny little fellow just making his way.”

“Right. Which makes you wonder if such a scrawny little fellow just making his way would have the capability of planning out such a murder,” David said.

“I wouldn’t count him out,” Sam said morosely.

Katie announced the last singer of the evening and Marty went up to do a Jimmy Buffett song. When he was done, Katie started closing down the equipment. She announced that if anyone wanted to keep on singing, they could head down Duval to Rick’s.

A few moments later, Katie joined them at the table. She seemed pleased to meet Sam, told him that it was good to see him. “You were in the other night, weren’t you?” she asked him. “But you’ve shaved since then.”

“Observant girl!” Sam noted.

“Well, it was quite a beard!”

Sam seemed to like Katie, which seemed equally natural. She spoke softly with a sweet voice, her eyes were like crystal and her scent was definitely compelling. She was a beautiful young woman.

If a little strange! She had almost appeared to be in some kind of a trance when she had walked out so suddenly.

Katie frowned, listening, and turned toward the doors. David realized there was some kind of disturbance going on in the street.

David didn’t say anything-he gave her a glance that told her he would check it out. He walked to the door. There was a bar fight going on. Pete Dryer was there, a big man, holding the battling drunks apart from one another. He saw David. “Get the little one, running down the street, David!”

David went after the man. He looked to be about twenty-one or twenty-two, and it wasn’t any problem getting him-he ducked and shrank, putting his hands up. “Hey, you got me, you got me, don’t hurt me!”

“I’m not going to hurt you. The cop down the street wants to talk to you, that’s all,” David said. “Turn around, and head on back.”

The kid did so. He looked younger, and terrified.

Two bigger fellows had been cowed. They stood on either side of Pete. “All right, what the hell is going on here?” Pete demanded.

“That little shit robbed me!” one fellow said.

“That’s my brother. He didn’t rob you,” the other big guy said.

Pete looked at the kid. “Did you rob him?”

“Hell, no! That stripper came out and started busing him all up-I didn’t take anything from him. Check my pockets!” the younger kid said.

Pete arched a brow. The kid pulled out his pockets. He had only his own wallet, which contained his ID. He was Lewis Agaro, age twenty-one, and he had ten bucks, an ATM card and one credit card, in his name.

“What are you three doing together?” Pete asked.

“We’re not together. That thug just suddenly started going after my little brother!” one man said explosively.

“Hey, sorry, man! So, now, come on, let’s go after the stripper!” the other man said.

“What stripper?” Pete asked.

“Well, what the hell, she’s gone now, what do you think?” the apparent robbery victim asked.

“All right, we’ll take a report from the robbery victim-the two of you need to get to your rooms for tonight, cause no more trouble, or I’ll see that you’re locked up for your vacation, and you’re not going to find any margaritas or hurricanes or any other such concoction when you’re in my custody!”

Pete looked at David. “Hell, I’m not even on duty!” he moaned. “I was going to join you guys for a drink. I got a car coming. I think I know which lovely little stripper is at her pocket-picking again. I’ll have to find her.”

David grinned. “Tomorrow, Pete,” he said. He had come halfway down the street. When he turned around and went back into the bar, Katie was gone.

He caught Clarinda by the arm, his touch far more forceful than he had intended. “Where’s Katie?”

“Gone, she went on home.”

There must have been a look of alarm on his face.

“I tell her all the time not to go alone!” Clarinda said.

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” David said. “Which way does she go?”

“Down Simonton,” Clarinda said. “Make her call me!”

David turned and headed out, running around the corner to the back. Almost two blocks ahead, he could see Katie.

Between them, he could see Sam Barnard. His heart leapt to his throat. Sam had to be watching out for her.

Why was Sam following her late at night, though?

“Katie!” He shouted her name.

Both Katie and Sam stopped, and turned back. Katie seemed surprised to see him; so did Sam.

“Sam, where are you heading?” he asked, moving up.

“My B and B is down the street,” Sam said. He blushed. “I’m staying at Artist House. We don’t have a place anymore.”

“Oh, well, it’s a beautiful place,” David said. They walked together on down to Katie where she waited.

“A couple of drunks got rowdy?” she asked.

“Yeah, Pete was there.”

She laughed. “Pete doesn’t have to deal with the drunks much these days. He must have been ticked that they acted up right in front of him.”

“Yep,” David said.

“Hey, a cop is a cop,” Sam said. He stood awkwardly for a moment. “Well, good night. See you all. Tomorrow, I imagine. Hey, Katie, you got your act up tomorrow night, too, right?”

“Sunday, yes,” she said. “Good night, Sam.”

Sam walked on. The streets were quiet. Katie waited, looking at David. “I was trying to walk you home,” he told her.

She smiled. “That’s nice.”

“Let me see you in.”

“Okay.”

They walked in silence for a minute. They reached her house and she opened the door. She seemed to hesitate, as if she was about to ask him in, but wasn’t sure.

He waited.

She didn’t.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded. “Well, keep your door locked, all right?” he asked.

Her smile deepened. In the muted light her eyes were truly a crystal that seemed hypnotic. He reminded himself that she was Sean’s little sister.

But Sean’s little sister had grown up.

“Well, good night,” he told her.

“Good night.”

She closed the door; he heard her lock it. He turned and walked slowly back to the Beckett house.

He paused on the street. He loved the house but tonight, it seemed cold, empty and forlorn.

And down the street, he could see the museum. He wasn’t given to anything illogical, but it seemed that night that the museum had a life of its own. It looked large in the shadows, dark and evil.

Irritated, he let himself into the house he now owned. He went to bed, and lay awake a long time, staring up at the ceiling.

Katie was exhausted, but the events of the past few days seemed to rush through her mind. She was restless, jumping at sounds. But then she grew angry with herself; she wasn’t easily scared. For God’s sake, it wasn’t as if she thought there was a ghost in her closet.

There might be a ghost in her closet, but if there was, she wasn’t afraid of it! Ghosts reached out. They needed help. They weren’t evil puffs of air or mist or…whatever. They were lost, and frequently, in pain.

She wondered then if there were evil ghosts. In her experience, no. For her, they were a part of life-just like allergies were to some people. Sometimes startling and annoying, and sometimes, like Bartholomew, they just seemed to hang around endlessly.

She was fond of Bartholomew. And he actually made her feel safe. In his odd, ghostly way, he was a very good friend. He was fond of her, as well.

She thought about David, and what he believed-that surely there was nothing in the world beyond the obvious. David wouldn’t be a big believer in ghosts.