Bone Island 03 - Ghost Moon (6 page)

I
t was good—and strange—to see Kelsey after so many years. The promise of great beauty that she’d always shown had come to full fruition, and the awkward, embarrassed smile she was giving Liam was nothing short of pure charm.

Kelsey had grown up. She was in a pair of rolled-up capri jeans, a soft cotton V-necked T-shirt and sneakers—she seemed as elegant as a swan. A little tremor ripped through him. Time could wash away so easily. Once, she had been the love of his young life, the seductress of an adolescent’s libido and the object of many a dream.

And she was home.

“Liam!” she said again, and laughed. “Oh, Lord, I am so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry—I tackled you,” he told her. “I heard you were coming. I just never expected you to arrive so quickly.”

“So, what were you doing here?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “Folks have been breaking in,” he said.

“Oh, yes, I heard—Joe Richter, told me. He said the
police suggested that the locks be changed and—oh!” She stared at him, her brows arching. “Liam—okay, I guess that you
are
the police officer who told him to get the locks changed?”

He nodded. “Guilty as charged. I’m with the criminal investigation unit. Seems a lot of crime down here has to do with brawls on Duval and drugs but we’ve also had our share of serious crime lately.”

Kelsey nodded in agreement. “I read about your cousin being cleared in Tanya Barnard’s death and the awful things that happened.” She grimaced sheepishly. “I was happy—David is a great guy. Just because I haven’t been here doesn’t mean that I don’t read. And I read a really bizarre story about murders that took place near here—out on the islands. Sean O’Hara was involved, right?”

“Sean and David were filming a documentary. They meant to go through our history of oddities and wound up following the minds of the mad. But it’s over. They finished up the filming a few weeks ago and are thinking about their next project. David has moved back—he’s living at our grandfather’s place. He and Katie O’Hara are planning their wedding now.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Katie—so, what is Katie doing these days? Cutter told me that she went up north to college, but came home.”

“She’s home. She runs Katie-oke at O’Hara’s.”

“I can’t wait to see her,” Kelsey said. “Katie was younger, of course, but we took a sailing class together, and I knew Sean fairly well. She was such a cute little ragamuffin, running around with him all the time!”

“Actually,” Liam said, glancing at his watch, “you can see her right now, if you’d like. Have you eaten? I can take you to O’Hara’s for some dinner and old-home night.”

She hesitated. Liam wondered if her current life involved a boyfriend, a lover or even a husband. She wasn’t wearing a ring but still he wondered if there had been a husband who was gone now. Maybe he was pushing too far too fast. It just seemed so normal and right that she was here.

“Sorry, no pressure,” he told her.

She shook her head. “No, no…I was just looking around—before I panicked when I heard you at the door. This house is going to take…wow. A lot!”

“Were you really going to do much tonight?” he asked.

“Probably not. Um, why not? I had a sandwich, but I’d love to see O’Hara’s.” She smiled again. There were the dimples he remembered.

“Hey, by the way, how did you get here?” he asked her.

“I have a rental car. I drove down from Miami,” she said. “The car is around on the side—that’s where we always parked. I guess Cutter hasn’t had a car for a while?”

“Not in years. He never left the house.”

“How odd—he traveled the globe, and then he became a hermit,” she said.

“He was a fascinating old fellow,” Liam said. “Brilliant. A real-life Indiana Jones.”

“Hmm. I think most of my friends thought of him
more as Uncle Fester, I’m afraid. Or Dr. Frankenstein, creating monsters out of his collections of strange things,” Kelsey said.

“Well, you have friends here who cared about him. Shall we go?”

She hesitated, frowning. “Liam—you said you were in the criminal investigation unit. Why was Cutter’s death investigated as a crime?”

“It wasn’t. I chose to come out—old times,” he said with a shrug.

“I see. Thanks.”

When they left the house, she turned one key in its lock. “I think you ought to be locking both locks,” he said. “In fact, I don’t think you should actually be staying here.”

She looked at him with amusement. “I grew up in the house. I’m not afraid of the mummy or the coffin—or even the shrunken head.”

“Kelsey, I came out here tonight because the house was broken into twice. The first time, a pack of kids came in. The second time, two local lowlifes were looking for something to steal. That’s why I told Joe Richter to get a locksmith out here and change the locks. The lowlifes said that the door was open when they got here, but I knew that it had been locked the night before. I’m not sure I feel good about this place,” Liam said carefully.

She offered him her dimpled smile once again. “Well, obviously, there had been a key out there somewhere. The locks are brand-new. Honestly, most thieves wouldn’t break into this place. It’s supposed to house evil spirits,
or something of the like. There’s so much to be done here. It’s ridiculous to own a house and go rent a room. Trust me, I’ll be fine. The house likes me, honest!” she said teasingly. “Actually, though, it was a long trip. I’d love a good Guinness—and my dad always said that O’Hara’s kept the cleanest taps in the state.”

She was a grown woman, and maybe, Liam thought, his unease was unfounded. “Okay, then. Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

He saw that Bartholomew was standing at the edge of the porch and seemed thoughtful. He prayed the ghost wouldn’t start talking to him, distract him and make him appear crazy.

No such luck.

As he walked to his car, slightly behind Kelsey, Bartholomew fell into step beside him.

“I don’t like it,” he said.

You don’t like what?

The words were on the tip of Liam’s tongue. Somehow, he refrained from saying them aloud.

Bartholomew followed them to the car. He’d known the ghost for some time now; it still unnerved Liam when he simply misted through doors. The physiology was intriguing. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t want to believe in ghosts. Bartholomew could
sit
on a chair, but he misted, blended, faded—whatever!—right through doors. He loved boats, hated the water. He’d been around nearly two hundred years, and he knew the answers to many questions, but he
didn’t
know a great deal that Liam felt a ghost should know. It was a different existence, Bartholomew believed. He didn’t know every
ghost—just as Liam didn’t know every living, breathing human. Ghosts were still the essence of people. They were good, bad, clever, dedicated, lost…greedy, generous, loyal, traitorous. That’s the way it was. But most of the time, they stayed behind because of a passion or a need. A passion for revenge, or justice—to save the life of a loved one or to right a terrible wrong.

Liam liked Bartholomew. But he wasn’t sure he wanted him around right now.

As he pulled the car around the circular drive, he caught a glimpse of the ghost in the rearview mirror.

Bartholomew was staring solemnly at the house, his gaze intent. He was searching for something.

Liam paused and stared up at the house himself.

He thought of the other night. The house seemed to have a life of its own. Beneath the moonlight, constantly shadowed by clouds, it seemed to breathe, and to watch, and to wait.

“What is it?” Kelsey asked him.

“Nothing.” He paused, his foot on the brake. “You’re sure you want to come back here, stay here alone?” he asked.

“It’s my house now,” she said quietly, staring at it. “With all that it holds!” she added, and smiled.

O’Hara’s was charming, and it hadn’t changed a bit—at least, not in Kelsey’s memory.

They entered a large open area with high-top tables scattered toward the rear; the space allowed for dancing and was right in front of a stage area that could be set for karaoke or live music. Tonight, rock music was playing,
but Kelsey saw a sign that advertised “Katie-oke” four nights a week. If “Katie-oke” was going on that night, it either hadn’t started or Katie was taking a break.

“There,” Liam said.

“I see.”

She had wondered if she would recognize anyone; in the time she had been gone, many people must have come through Key West—and possibly moved on. It could be a city that was warm, like a true neighborhood, yet it was also a city of transients. And most of her friends had been young when she had seen them last, and surely they had changed.

It was easy to see that David Beckett was there, seated at a far booth on the restaurant side, to the left of the dance area. He resembled Liam, or Liam resembled him. He was a tall man with a face made of rugged angles, striking eyes. Katie had grown up beautifully, her red hair having darkened to a gorgeous hue. Sean was easy to recognize, as well—he was a far more masculine version of Katie, and though Katie was definitely feminine, with fine features, they both resembled their uncle, Jamie O’Hara. Kelsey didn’t recognize the young woman with Sean, but they were obviously together. She thought she recognized the woman with a tray standing by the table, and even the others who were there: another young couple who looked like flower children. His hair was as curly and long as hers was, and they both wore wire-rimmed glasses.

As they neared the table, unseen, Kelsey heard the last man at the table talking. He was very long and lean, but had a rich voice.

One that she thought she knew.

“They should really just bulldoze that house—let a major-league hotelier come in and put up one of the mega hotels—well, you know, a within-limits mega hotel,” he said, slipping an arm around the waitress who hovered by the table. “No more than two stories, of course—you can’t ruin the horizon.”

“Jonas,” Katie O’Hara argued, “don’t be silly. That’s an historic house. Why would anyone want to destroy it?”

“Well, please. Who would want to keep it?” Jonas asked.

Liam, his hand at the small of Kelsey’s back, cleared his throat.

“Actually, Kelsey hasn’t decided what she’s doing with it yet.”

It was almost funny, the way the eight people at or near the table swung around to stare at them.

It was Katie who gasped, then leaped off her bar stool with pleasure. “Kelsey! Oh, my God. You came home. How wonderful to see you!”

Her eyes were sparkling, and her words were sincere. She came forward, offering a hug, and Kelsey was glad to accept it. She drew away. “I’m Katie. I’m sorry—you might not have recognized me. Katie O’Hara.”

“Of course, Katie, I remember you well, and thank you for the greeting,” Kelsey said. By then, the men at the table were standing.

“Let’s see who you remember, and who you don’t,” Liam said. “My cousin, David. You can’t miss Sean O’Hara. And I don’t know if you ever met Vanessa,
though she’s been down now and again over the years. And these are our friends Ted and Jaden. And Clarinda, and Jonas.”

David and Sean greeted her like a long-lost kid sister, Vanessa was charming but reserved, and Jaden and Ted were as loving as any good flower children might be. Clarinda welcomed her, and Jonas quickly apologized. “Wow, I’m sorry. I mean, it is my opinion, but—” He broke off and grimaced. “You remember me, don’t you? We had a house just across from you near the wharf. I still have it. It’s called the Salvage Inn now. I run it as a bed-and-breakfast.”

Kelsey grinned. “Yes, of course I remember you. You groaned anytime I was over at your house with either of my folks.”

“Okay, well, I’m afraid I have a few years on you. You were a pest back then.”

“Not that much of a pest,” David Beckett said, “I remember really liking you. I can’t believe that you’re an adult now.”

Kelsey seldom flushed, but she did so. David Beckett had an amazing sense of class and kindness.

Like Liam.

But her mother had always said that their grandfather, Craig Beckett, was one of the most honorable men she had ever known. He had taught his progeny well, she thought.

She needed to take a step back; this did feel like old-home week. And she wasn’t staying. She had started life over again, and she was comfortable where she was. She loved her work, her neighborhood, and she wasn’t sure
why she had come, other than guilt and a sense of debt, and she was very afraid of falling back into…she didn’t know what. Maybe the
oddity
of belonging to the house and being Cutter Merlin’s granddaughter.

“Thank you, David. And Jonas, it’s really okay—I wasn’t so fond of you back then, either,” she said, and the group laughed.

“Have a seat—I’ll get you a Guinness,” Liam said.

“Oh, wait! I’m supposedly working,” Clarinda said.

“It’s all right—I know the owner,” Liam said laughing. He headed straight back behind the bar to pour the beer himself.

“We’re right across from you,” Clarinda told Kelsey. “I live with Jonas, and if you need anything at all, we’re really close.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, honest. Now I’ll be glad if you stop by,” Jonas said. He made a face. “And I’ve got rooms if you want out of the old place.”

“Actually, I loved living there,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Katie put in. “Liam said it’s in pretty bad shape. Although I’ll be happy to come over and help you put things in order, if you like.”

“That would be great,” Kelsey said. Could she really ask someone else to sweep up spiderwebs and dust with her?

“I would absolutely adore getting into that house!” Jaden said. “That’s what Ted and I do. Well, not exactly. We own a place called Sunken Treasures. Most of what we do is restoration of things that divers bring up. Salvage restoration. But I worked at an auction house for
a while before Ted and I opened our own place, so I’m pretty good at assessing the value of old treasures.”

“That’s great to know,” Kelsey said.

Liam returned with two pints of Guinness, setting one in front of her. She thanked him, and Ted said, “Well, you do have an army here for help, if you want it. I must admit, I’m fascinated by the prospect of getting into the house, too.”