Ghost Shadow

5

Dying Love, Dead Loss was the name of the most popular book that had been written on the subject of Tanya Barnard’s murder. Naturally, there had been dozens of newspaper reports and the sensationalism of the way she had been left had drawn coverage from across the country.

Katie had never purchased the book. She didn’t feel that anyone should make a profit off such a contemporary tragedy.

That day, however, on her way back from the cemetery, she stopped by a store to purchase the book. She bought it in one of the tourist shops on Duval that sold sandals, clothing, souvenirs and about ten titles that were pertinent to the Keys. Two of the books held maps and histories, two were on water sports on the island, another was on housing styles. There was a book on Carl Tanzler, one on Key West ghost stories and one on the murder of Tanya Barnard. The shop was owned and operated by Eastern Europeans new to the area, but it was still a small world. It wouldn’t be any secret that she had bought the book.

She picked up a tuna croissant sandwich from one of her favorite restaurants and headed home with her book. She had several hours before she had to return to work.

Saturday night.

It was going to be busy.

Friday nights started the craziness of weekend revelers, bachelor parties, bachelorette parties and general let’s-drive-down-to-Key-West-and-get-plastered celebrations. Also, Fantasy Fest would be starting the next week, so many people who intended to enjoy that week of bacchanalia would start filtering in.

As she walked to her house, lunch and reading material in hand, she suddenly felt an odd sense of apprehension.

It was broad daylight. Tourists were everywhere, walking, on bikes, in rental minicars. Music was blaring from a dozen clubs. She wondered at first if she was being followed by a ghost who had suddenly discovered the need to talk.

Tanya. Maybe Tanya Barnard was walking around Key West, and she had seen her brother and her onetime fiancé again, and discovered the need to try to help them find the truth.

But looking around, she saw no one, not even the usual crowd she sometimes saw, all from their different eras, sometimes seeing one another and sometimes not. There were a few Spanish conquistadors who hung out near the wharf fairly frequently, and many of the seafarers seemed to see one another and gather near the docks, almost as if they could taste the beer and grog being served by the waterside restaurants now. An early-nineteenth-century pirate seemed to look around Captain Tony’s now and then, and rumor had it that he’d been seen by a number of people.

But the dead were quiet this afternoon. She had no idea why she’d felt the chilling sensation, as if she had been watched.

She felt it again when she reached her house and turned the key in the lock, so much so that she turned around to assure herself that she hadn’t been followed. “Bartholomew?” she muttered, turning one last time before releasing the knob. Her ethereal houseguest might be feeling that she needed to be more careful than she was. But, apparently, Bartholomew was still hanging around the cemetery. Every now and then, he got a kick out of trying to breathe down someone’s neck and give them a chill or a scare. He could also make leaves rustle, and sometimes, tap on glass or some other hard surface. He loved seeing pretty young women squeal with fear.

Sometimes, he followed the ghost tours around. He’d stand next to the guides, and blow out their lanterns now and then. She didn’t really blame him. Surely, after nearly two hundred years of hanging around, he needed a form of entertainment. But Bartholomew didn’t seem to be playing jokes-not on her-at the moment.

She stepped inside and quickly closed the door behind her, locking it. Once inside, she felt somewhat silly, but she still checked the locks anyway. With her sandwich, a cold glass of tea and the book, she curled up on the sofa in the parlor and started to read.

The author first painted a picture of Key West at the time of the murder; then she told the Carl Tanzler story, and gave a history of the Beckett family. Their history was similar to that of her own family. David Beckett-the original David Beckett-had been a pirate who had claimed that he had actually been a privateer, attacking only Spanish ships in the name of Great Britain. The Becketts purchased lands, probably with ill-gotten gains, became wreckers and salvage divers, supported sponging and, by the eighteen hundreds, had become rich. They were able to shift with the winds of time, owning tourist businesses as the days of wrecking became bygone, investing in a number of different ventures. Into the mid-nineteen hundreds, the family was still hanging on, but with their worth more in property than bank accounts. Few families were more respected. Her own family was named along with the Barnards. They weren’t the earliest, like the Whiteheads and Simontons, but they had family members who had remained through the decades.

Then-the murder.

Everyone involved with the museum had been questioned. Pete Dryer, a uniformed cop at the time, had been at the museum during the discovery, and he had perfectly preserved the crime scene-except that the murder hadn’t taken place in the museum, according to the medical examiner’s report. Where she met her fate, no one knew. No one had broken into the museum, and there were no security cameras at the time. Crime-scene units had not been able to find hairs, fibers or any other microcosm of evidence. David Beckett had naturally fallen under suspicion; Key West was a small place. Though extremely improbable, it was possible that he had slipped out-and come upon Tanya.

Katie scrambled over to the kitchen counter for a notepad. The police were convinced that the murderer was someone who had lived on the island and knew their way around. They also thought that the murderer was probably a very strong man. She listed the people who had been on the tour: four female college students; Molly and Turk Kenward from Portland, Oregon; Pete Dryer; his sister, Sally; her husband, Gerry Matthews; and the Matthewses’ children, Suzie and Whelan.

She scratched out the names of the female college students, then the two Matthews children. She was about to scratch out the names of Pete Dryer and his sister and brother-in-law, but she didn’t. Nor did she scratch out David Beckett’s name. She did scratch out Molly and Turk. Not only were they not local, but they were also listed as “senior citizens.” It was possible, of course, that they had been a pair of homicidal octogenarians. It simply wasn’t probable.

She leafed through more pages, searching for the names of locals who had been questioned. Lily and Gunn Barnard, Tanya’s parents, were dead; Sam Barnard, Tanya’s brother, was alive and well and in Key West now. Danny Zigler had been questioned, and all the Becketts living in the Keys had been questioned, including Liam, who now worked investigation in Key West. Her own brother, Sean, had been questioned, along with many of those who had gone to high school with Tanya.

Katie frowned, seeing Sean’s name. She had never realized that the police had questioned him.

Bartenders up and down Duval had been questioned. Once again, Katie was surprised when she saw where Tanya Barnard had last been seen.

O’Hara’s Pub.

Her uncle Jamie had been questioned! Jamie, and Sean. She hesitated and wrote down their names.

She was still so stunned by what she read that she jumped a mile when her cell phone started to ring. She frowned, looking at all the numbers on the caller ID.

“Hello?” she said, feeling a strange sense of trepidation.

“Katie, it’s Sean,” her brother’s voice said.

“I was home because it was summer,” Sam Barnard said to David as they sat in the sidewalk bar. “I’d gone to college for a straight business degree, then decided I wanted a minor in marine sciences. It was going to take me five years to get my degree. I never went back for the last year. Doesn’t matter-I never wanted to breed trout anyway. I have a good business-I learned enough to keep up five charter boats and a Gulf-side house right on the water up in Key Largo. I was fishing with my dad during the day, and I saw Tanya around four when we came in. I think I told her she was a jerk. Because of the Ohio State guy. I was on your side, though, of course, now I know that none of us can ever tell anyone else what to do. But like I said, she didn’t tell me to fly a kite, kiss my ass or any other such thing. She said she knew she had messed up, but that if you didn’t want her, she was leaving. She asked me if I thought she was a bad person, not knowing until you were back-all in one piece-before thinking that she’d made a mistake. I told her, yeah, she’d kind of been a selfish bitch. She’d wanted everything-the parties, the good times and then the guy she’d cheated on. She didn’t even get mad. I was a jerk, and it was the last time I ever saw my sister alive.”

“So she left the house after four that afternoon?” David said after a moment.

Sam nodded.

“Danny Zigler saw her at five at O’Hara’s Pub. In the police reports, Jamie O’Hara said that he served her a pint of Guinness, and that she was nervous. She smiled at him, and told him to wish her luck, stayed until around seven-and then she left, and no one saw her alive again,” David said.

“You’ve seen the police reports?” Sam asked, curious and surprised.

“My cousin is working it as a cold case,” David said.

Sam pointed a finger at him. “I remember something. Your cousin, Liam, was one of the people who saw her at O’Hara’s.”

“At least ten people saw her at O’Hara’s that night,” David pointed out.

“The question is, which of those ten people weren’t seen in the bar after? Or, oh, hell, that would be the point here, huh? No one knows who saw her once she left that pub. Somewhere, in the next hour, someone found her and killed her. That’s nothing new, not really. I’m sure the police must have narrowed down the timeline when it happened. And, of course, the problem around here isn’t that there was no one on the streets. There were hundreds of people on the streets. And it was a long, long time ago now,” Sam said. He hesitated. “She wasn’t raped. So it’s not as if they can suddenly find a miraculous match with honed DNA science.”

“No,” David agreed.

This time, Sam let out a long sigh. “They figured it was some kind of psycho who lived here and then moved on. Hell, he could have driven north that night, or taken a puddle jumper up the state. But you don’t think that a whacko killed my sister?”

“I don’t know anything. I just don’t think it was a psycho. I think it was someone who knew the area and had an agenda.”

“Like what?”

“That’s what I need to find out.”

“I still don’t understand. I mean, obviously, I really wish we knew what happened-who killed my baby sister. But, what’s different now? The cops swore they chased down every lead, no matter how small. What’s different now? How do you think you can solve anything?”

David stared at him and smiled tightly. “I’m different now. I’m not a kid. And I don’t intend to stop, or be stopped by anyone. I know that I had nothing to do with her death, and I know that someone did. Someone got away with murder, and I believe that we do know the person who killed her. The truth exists. And I want it.”

“Hey! Where are you?” Katie asked her brother. “Far away still, I take it. It’s great to hear from you.”

“We talked a week ago on Skype,” he reminded her.

“Skype is great-when you have a sibling halfway across the world.”

“I’m in Hawaii now. I’m coming home for a while, kid.”

“That’s wonderful! It will be like old-home week.”

“I know,” Sean said.

She frowned. “How do you know?”

“David Beckett left me a message about going back.”

“He left you a message?”

“E-mail,” Sean explained.

“But I thought-”

“I didn’t have access for a few days, but the filming project finished up. I’m in Hawaii, and I head back to California the day after tomorrow. Then Miami the following morning-”

“I’ll come pick you up.”

“No, no, I’m going to rent a car. I’ll be there sometime on Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“That’s wonderful, Sean! Oh, watch the traffic. The first events for Fantasy Fest are starting soon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the traffic. It will just be aggravating. I could hop a puddle jumper in Miami, but I kind of want to drive down. Even with the tourists clogging the road.”

“Okay. That’s super, Sean!”

He was quiet. She thought that she had lost the connection. “Katie?” he said then.

“What?”

“Don’t go telling anyone that…that you see things.”

It was her turn to be quiet. Sean had been amused the first time she had seen a ghost. She had been six, in first grade, and they’d been playing at the church. The ghost she had seen had been a nun. Sean had taken it all as a joke. Her feelings had been terribly hurt, but she had quickly realized that he had been trying to defend her. The other kids meant to torment her and laugh at her-which they did, until Sean turned it all around, laughing at them for falling for the joke.

Later, Katie had been alone at the playground. The nun had come to her, and spoken gently, assuring her that she had a gift, and that she must guard it carefully.

But when her grandfather had died, her mother’s tears had shaken her. She had seen her grandfather, trying to comfort her mother. She told her mother. Her mother believed she was just trying to comfort her-until she told her mother where Grandpa had left his old gold pocket watch, and that he wanted Katie’s father to have it.

Her mother had been looking everywhere for the pocket watch.

Katie was careful then. She didn’t tell anybody about the sailors, servicemen and pirates who roamed the docks.

She avoided eye contact with the ghosts. It hadn’t worked with Bartholomew.

She had thought that her brother had forgotten about her ghosts, because she never mentioned a ghost again. Sometimes, though, she had information or could tell him things because a ghost had pointed something out. She would remain stubbornly silent when he asked her how she knew something.

“Katie?”

“What?”

“Don’t go saying anything, anything at all-especially not to David. I know why he’s in town. If God himself comes down to speak to you, don’t say anything-do you understand?”

“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.