Hed heard once that ghosts remained on earth for a reason. They wanted to avenge their unjust deaths, they needed to help an ancestor or they were searching for truth. There were supposedly ghosts who were caught in time, reenacting the last moments of their lives. But that was considered residual haunting, while Bartholomews determination to remain on earth in a spectral form was known as active or intelligent haunting.
Bartholomew had been around for a reasonhe had been unjustly killed. But Sean couldnt figure out why he remained now. His past had been aligned with David Beckett and his family, and Sean had to admit that Bartholomew had been helpful in solving the Effigy Murders, all connected to the Becketts.
Maybe he had stayed because of the injustice done to him and because he still felt that he owed something to the Becketts. All Sean knew was that he had been Katies ghostif there was such a thingand now he seemed to be with him all the time.
Sean liked Bartholomew. He had a great deal of wit and he knew his history. He was loyal and might well have contributed to saving their lives.
But it was unnerving from the get-go to realize that you were seeing a ghost. It was worse realizing that the ghost was no longer determined to stick to Katie like glue, but had moved on to him. He was a good conversationalistand thus the problem. Sean was far too tempted to talk to him, reply in public and definitely appear stark, raving mad upon occasion.
Ghosts were all over the place, Bartholomew had informed him. Most people felt a whisper in the breeze, sometimes a little pang of sorrow, and if the ghost was intelligent and active, it might enjoy a bit of fun now and then, creating a breeze, causing a bang in the dark of night, and so on. Katie had real vision for the souls lurking this side of the veil. So far, thank God, hed seen only Bartholomew, and maybe a mist of others in the shadows now and then.
Sean had been damned happy before hed seen a ghost at all.
Pirate Cut, he noted mentally. A good place to begin shooting. They hadnt known in Bartholomews day that the reefs needed to be protected. They had brought their ships to the deep-water plunge just off the reef many times. Bartholomew knew for a fact that the legend about the area was trueships of many nations had foundered here in storms, been cut up on the reefs and left to the destruction of time and the elements. But there was treasure scattered here, treasure and history, even if it had been picked over in the many years since.
It would also make for beautiful underwater footage. The colors were brilliant; the light was excellent. And it was near the area where Bartholomew had allegedly chased and gunned down a ship and murdered those aboard. Falsely accused, in the days after David Porters Pirate Squadron had been established, he had been hanged quickly, and it had been only after his unjust death that his innocence had been proven.
It was a good story for a documentary. Especially considering the events of the recent past, when a madman had decided that it was his ancestor who had been wronged and that the Becketts were to pay.
The whole story needed to be told, and it would.
And perhaps, if he managed to get Bartholomews story out there, with any luck Bartholomew might see the light and move on to the better world he believed he would find.
It was true that Bartholomew was not a bad guy and that, if he were flesh and blood, hed be great to hang out with. But with Katie engaged to David Beckett now and basically living at the Beckett house, it seemed that Bartholomew was really all his.
And no way out of itit was awkward. Disconcerting. And he was starting to look as if he walked around talking to himself. So much for an intelligent and manly image, Sean thought dryly.
Bartholomew, please, stop talking to me. Youre well aware that I look crazy as all hell when people see me talking to you, right? Sean demanded.
I keep telling you, youre an artist. And a true conch, Bartholomew said. Born and bred on the island. Tall, with that great red hair, good and bronzedhey, fellow, a mans man as they say, Bartholomew told him, waving a ringed hand in the air. Trust meyoure masculine, virile, beloved andan artist. Youre allowed to be crazy. And, good God, manthis is Key West!
Right. Then the tourists will have me arrested, Sean said.
Theyd reached OHaras, toward the southern end of Duval. Sean cast Bartholomew a warning glare. Bartholomew shrugged and followed Sean in.
Sean walked straight up to the bar. Jamie OHara himself was working his taps that day.
Hey, whats up? Sean asked, setting his hands on the bar and looking at Jamie, who was busy drying a beer glass.
It was early in the dayby Key West bar standards. Just after eleven. Jamie, when he was in town, usually opened the place around eleven-thirty, and whoever of his old friends, locals, or even tourists who wandered in for lunch early were served by Jamie himself. He cooked, bussed and made his drinks, poured his own Guinnessesseven minutes to properly fill a Guinness glassand he did so because he liked being a pub owner and he was the kind of employer who liked people, his employees and his establishment. He could handle the place in the early hourunless there was a festival in town. Which, quite often, there was. Starting at the end of this week, hed have double shifts going onPirates in Paradise was coming to town.
At this moment, though, OHaras was quiet. Just Jamie, behind the bar.
Jamie was the perfect Irish barkeepthough he had been born in Key West. He, like Seans dad, had spent a great deal of time in the old country visiting their mothers familyOCasey folkand he and Seans dad had both gone to college in Dublin. Jamie could put on a great brogue when he chose, but he could also slip into a laid-back Keys Southern drawl. Sean had always thought he should have been an actor. Jamie said that owning a pub was nearly the same thing. He had a rich head full of gray hair, a weather-worn but distinguished face, bright blue eyes and a fine-trimmed beard and mustache, both in that steel-gray that seemed to make him appear to be some kind of clan chieftain, or an old ard-ri, high king, of Ireland. He was well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a seamans muscles.
Jamie indicated the last booth in the bar area of the pub, which was now cast in shadow.
He realized that someone was sitting in the booth.
He couldnt help but grin at his uncle. Youre harboring a spy? A double agent? Someone from the CIA working the Keys connection?
Sean knew that bad thingsvery bad thingscould happen, even in Key West, Florida, island paradise though it might be. Hed seen them. But someone hiding in the shadows seemed a bit out of the ordinary.
Jamie shrugged and spoke softly. Who knows why shes sitting in the dark? Shes a nice kid. Came in here, I guess, cause the world seems to consider it neutral ground or something. She heard about you and David and the documentary you two are going to film together.
Sean frowned. Weve had ads in the papers for crews for the boats and the filming. David and I have been setting up for interviews at his place.
What do you want from me, son, eh? She came in here, knowing I was related to the OHara looking to film about Key West and her mysteries. I said yes, and she asked if there was any way she could speak to you alone.
Shes applying for a job? Then she should go about it just like all the others and ask for an interview, Sean said, annoyed. He couldnt really see the woman in the corner, but he thought she seemed young. Maybe she was trying to secure a position by coming through the back door, flirting, drawing on his uncles sympathies.
I dont think that its work shes looking for, but I dont know. Shes pretty tense. She wanted to know about the recent business down hereyou know, all the nasty stuff with the murdersand she was mainly wanting to know, so it seemed, how you all coped with the bad things going on. Like, frankly, were you a pack of cowards, was it really all solved by the police, did I think that you were capable peopleand did you really know the area.
Oh, great. She sounds like someone I really want to hire! Sean said.
Jamie laughed. Shes not that badshe was dead honest in the questions she asked me. She didnt use the word coward, that was mine. Theres something I like about her, Sean. Talk to her. She seems tense and nervousand somehow, the real deal. His uncle leaned closer to him. Theres some mystery about this girl, and yet something real. Talk to her. Oh, and by the way, she is really something. Shes got every diving certificate, advanced, teacher, you name it. Shes gotten awards for her writing, and ohhmm. She happens to have amazing blond hair, giant blue eyes and a shape to die for, nephew. Check it out. Go ahead. Whats the matter, boy, scared?
Sean looked at his uncle in surprise and laughed. Scared? No. He was at least intrigued. Couldnt hurt to talk to the woman. He and David were anxious to get started on their project because it was important to both of themand it was also what they were best known for in their separate careers. But they were discussing just what bits and pieces and stories they would use for their documentary. Bartholomews situation was a must, Robert the Doll was a must, and the bizarre, true and fairly recent history of Elena and Count von Cosel was also a must. It wouldnt be Key West if they didnt touch on Hemingway and the writing connection. And there had to be pirates, wreckers, sponge divers and cigar makers, and how the Conch Republic became the Conch Republic. But as to exactly what they were using and what they were concentrating on, they were still open. They hadnt made any hard-and-fast decisions yet, but since David was home and planning a wedding with Seans sister, they had decided that, at long last, they should work together. Friends in school who hadnt seen each other in a decade, they had both gone the same routefilm. Once the tension and terror of a murderer at work in Key West had died down, David had decided he was going to stay home awhile. That had a lot to do with the fact that he was in love with Seans sister, Katie OHara. But David was a conch, tooborn and bred in Key West from nearly two generations of conchs. David belonged here.
Sean had stayed away from home a lot, too. But now he was excited about the idea of working with Davidand working on a history about Key West and the surrounding area, bringing to light what truth they could discover that lay behind many of the legends. One thing had never been more truefact was far stranger than fiction. But as he knew from living here, fact could become distorted. Tourists often asked which form of a story told by a tour guide was the true one. He and David meant to explore many of the legends regarding Key Westand, through historical documents, letters and newspapers of each era, get to the heart of the truth. Fascinating work. He loved his home. Key West was the tail end of Florida, an oddity in time and place. An island accessible only by boat for much of its history. Southern in the Civil War by state, Union by military presence.
Bartholomew suddenly let out a soft, low whistle, almost making Sean jump. He gritted his teeth and refused to look at the ghost.
Pretty, pretty thing! Bartholomew said. Id have been over there by now, not wondering if there was some secret agenda behind it all!
Somehow, Sean refrained from replying. He even kept smiling and staring straight at his uncle.
Are you going to stare at the shadows? Or are you at least going to let the girl have her say? Jamie demanded. Ill bring coffee, he added.
I know where the coffee is, thanks, Uncle, Sean said. He came behind the bar to pour himself a cup, trying to get a better look at the woman at the booth.
She was waiting for him. There was no looking at her surreptitiouslyshe was staring back at him. She was still in the shadows, but his uncle seemed to be right about one thingshe was stunning. She had the kind of cheekbones that were pure, classic beautyat eighty, shed still be attractive with that bone structure. Her hair was golden and pale and simply long, with slightly rakish and overgrown bangs. He didnt think she spent a lot of money in a boutique salon; the shades of color had come from the sun and the overgrown, rakish look was probably because she didnt spend much time getting it cut.
She was dressed more like a native than a touristlight cotton dress with a little sweater over her shoulders. Down here, the days were often hot, tempered only by the ocean and gulf breezes that were usually present. But inside, it could be like the new ice age had comebecause of the heat, businesses were often freezing. Jamie kept his swinging doors to the outside open sometimesit was a Key thing. Trying to be somewhat conservative in the waste of energy, the air blasted in the back, not near the front.
Coffee in hand, he walked back to the booth at last. Hi. Im Sean OHara. Were doing interviews tomorrow and the next day at the old Beckett house, because, Im assuming you know, its a joint project between David Beckett and myself. He offered her his hand.
She accepted it. Her grip was firm. Her palms were slightly callused, but they were nice, tanned. Her fingers were long and she had neat nails, clipped at a reasonable length rather than grown out long.
Her eyes were steady on his.
Im Vanessa Loren, she said. I have real experience and sound credentials, but thats not exactly why Im here, or why I wanted to meet with you here.
He shrugged, taking a seat opposite her in the booth.
All right.
She suddenly lifted both hands and let them fall. Ive actually practiced this many times, but Im not sure where to begin.
Youvepracticed? Sean asked. Practiced an interview for a job?
She nodded. Ive practiced trying to explain. This is really important to me.
All right. Start anywhere, Sean said.
She lowered her head, breathing in deeply. Then she looked at him again. Unless youve been under a rock, you must have heard about the Haunt Island murders.
He blinked and tried to remember. Hed been filming in the Black Sea two years ago, but he had heard about the bizarre murders. Members of a film crew had been gruesomely slain on an island just southwest of South Bimini. Though uninhabited, the island belonged to the Bahamas.
He hadnt moved into the booth and hadnt left room for Bartholomew. However, the ghost had followed him to the booth, and leaned against the wall just across from them.
Yes, I heard something about the murders, he said carefully.
I was with the film crew, she said. One of my best childhood friends was the director, and I was the scriptwriter. We both put money into the venture, and we were doing double duty. When I say low budget, I mean low budget. But we had it togetherwe knew what we were doing, and we worked incredibly hard. The film wasnt going to win an Oscar, but we had hopes of having it picked up by a national distributor.