Maybe he was in a car. He might have gotten his car, and he could be following her in it now.
No. Why on earth would he do that?
To harass her.
He was a creep.
She cut into a yard and crawled through palms and crotons that grew heavily there. She looked at the street. No car.
She started to turn around, aware of a sound behind her.
She wasnt able to turn. Something came over her head. A plastic bag. She grabbed at it, incredulous. Hands wound around her neck. The world began to grow black.
It couldnt be happening
She was vaguely aware of sirens. She tried to fight; to live. Help was coming. The sirens came closer, closer
And the sound moved away. Help might be coming for someone, but not for her.
And the blackness swamped over her.
Youre falling apart-you are simply falling apart, Bartholomew said. Id slap you across the cheek to wake you up and make you see clearly-if I could, he added sternly.
They were just inside the house, and he was clearly agitated.
All this time, I keep asking you about the lady in white. She ignores you, you ignore her. Now you have this new ghost appearing and disappearing, and youve gone straight to pieces.
Shes not just any ghost, Katie said. And you saw her last night.
I didnt see her today.
You werent with me down there when I was diving with David. Youre afraid of the water! Katie accused him.
Im not afraid of it. I can swim, he argued indignantly. I cant see why I should go down getting soaked and wet when theres no reason for it.
Would you really get wet? she asked. I mean, do ghosts get wet?
Its the thought and the memory, he said, and shuddered. You swim when your boat sinks, when youre under attack, when its your only recourse. Not for the pleasure of it!
Wow. How dirty and icky were you? Katie asked.
I bathed! he protested. When possible. I wasnt repulsive in the least. I had amazing hygiene habits for my day and you are getting completely off the subject here. Katie, you must stop being so hypnotized by this ghost!
You dont understand. Its a true pity that you dont go into water for the pleasure of it, and you didnt follow David and me down on that dive. Then youd understand. The ghost is Tanya. Shes trying to communicate with me-she just doesnt know how. Its very bizarre, really. Shes trying so hard to reach out. ButI understand her a bit becausetheres something in her eyes. She can materialize, but she fades so quickly. I can see her try to whisper, but shes so hard to hear. Maybe she hasnt been a ghost long enough-
Ten years, Bartholomew noted.
And the lady in white, the one who fascinates you? She doesnt know how to communicate and shes been a ghost for nearly two hundred years, Id reckon.
Bartholomew plopped down on the sofa in the parlor. You be careful, or they will lock you up. I dont enjoy jails-modern or otherwise-and I know that I wouldnt at all enjoy a mental hospital.
Oh, thats just great-coming from you. Bartholomew, Tanya was in my bed this morning.
Very rude, he said. I would never dream of disturbing the sanctity of your private quarters!
Katie ignored his words. She hurried on. And then in the water. Bartholomew, I told you, you had to have been there. She appeared slowly in the sea dust, as if she gained her image from the particles of plankton and microscopic debris She formed right behind him, and she looked so, so sad, and she touched his shoulder and his cheek. I could have sworn that there were tears in her eyes.
In the water? Bartholomew mocked.
She looked sad, as if she was crying-yes, in the water! She wants me to know, even if she cant tell me who did do it, that he didnt.
Thats ridiculous. She was murdered. If she knows who did do it, she needs to tell you.
Maybe she doesnt know. Her attacker might have struck from the back.
Then if she doesnt know who did do it, how does she know that it wasnt David Beckett? Bartholomew demanded.
She might have known where he was at the time of her death-and if he was nowhere near her, it couldnt have been him.
Well, you do need to stop running about in a trance. He will think that youre as daft as a loon!
I will. I have it under control. Now.
I certainly hope so, he said. He looked at his pocket watch. Times a-wasting, my dear.
She spun on him and started up the stairs.
David washed down his equipment, rinsed himself off and headed back to the house for a real shower. After that, he went out to find Danny Zigler.
He was serving ice cream. He grinned at David. Hey.
Hey.
Ice cream?
You know what, Ill take a shake. Vanilla.
Cool.
David paid him, adding a handsome tip.
Hey, thanks, David, you dont have to go overboard. Im not a charity case, you know. I keep working.
Yeah, I see that. I was so surprised to see you at OHaras last night. I thought you were doing the ghost tours. And, hell, the crowds on weekends are huge. Didnt think you could take time off like that.
Yeah, I miss doing the weekend tours. Thing is, all the companies out there have hired on too many people. Most can work weekends, around their other jobs, you know? I can work weeknights, and to be honest, I dont like an overcrowded tour. I like to be able to tell the stories good, you know? And when there are too many people, half of em dont hear you, and when you repeat all kinds of stuff, you lose the whole effect, Danny said.
I know what you mean. Too many in a group, and you just dont get the effect, David agreed. Well, thanks. See ya, Danny. Oh-you working at OHaras tonight?
I start at ten there. I am taking out an eight-oclock tour tonight.
Cool.
David waved, and headed down the street. He walked toward La Concha Hotel, and around to the stand where ghost-tour tickets were sold. A young girl was selling tickets. He asked her about Danny Zigler. Oh, yeah, hes working tonight. Eight oclock. Hes a good guide.
Yeah. It surprises me that you all dont use him all the time, David said.
She shrugged. Hey, Im not management. But I think that Danny likes his other jobs, too. Strange fellow, but a good storyteller!
David bought a ticket and moved out of the way for the couple who waited behind him. He glanced at his watch, and headed back home. He had left the police files on his grandfathers desk. He set an alarm to warn him when it would be nearing eight.
A long, hot shower and shampoo felt wonderful, rinsing away the cakey salt and effects of the sun and the sea. Katie lingered under the flow of water, then emerged regretfully at last, aware that she should be conserving water-and that she was pruning.
She slipped into a terry robe and towel-dried her hair, then studied her reflection in the mirror. Wet, she decided, was really not her look. But too bad-she loved the water too much.
She looked over at the bathroom cabinet, choosing a moisturizer.
When she looked back at the mirror, there was someone behind her.
It wasnt Tanya. It was a different entity. She had dark hair, too much makeup and her eyes were red and slightly bulging.
A tear slipped down her astral cheek.
No! Katie whispered. Please!
The girl remained, that tear sliding down her face.
Please! Katie whispered again. Im not nine-one-one for ghosts. I dont know how to help you. I dont know who you are! she whispered vehemently.
She closed her eyes, praying for the image to go away. She opened her eyes. It did.
Her hands were shaking when she reached for her cosmetic base and looked back to the mirror.
The image was back.
The girl was no longer crying. She was just standing there, staring at Katie, as if she were in shock. Her face was starkly white. Her features seemed to have shriveled. Her eyes were clouded with red dots.
I wish I could help you! Katie whispered. Please
The image faded.
Katie collected her makeup and went running down the stairs.
Bartholomew was perched at the kitchen counter. He stared at her, frowning. What now?
Another ghost, she said.
He looked annoyed. What is this-spirit central? he demanded. This is my house.
Its my house, she corrected.
He sighed. Actually, Katie, once upon a time, I lived in the upstairs bedroom. Well, I didnt live there, I spent a great deal of time there. Eighteen twenty-six, to be exact.
But this house-
Oh, the house has been rebuilt. It was just a tiny wooden structure at the time. The place was a shantytown, really, except for some of the places built by big money. Simontons and Whiteheads Anyway, I had a girl for a while. She wasnt the kind you brought home to mother. But she was one hell of a woman. Never mind, thats not the point. This is my haunt. Youre my mortal.
Youre being selfish, Katie said, feeling a new strength. They need help.
Everyone needs help.
She was murdered, Katie said suddenly.
Most ghosts were murdered.
No, Hemingway killed himself, and hes haunting this country, Spain and Cuba, so I understand, Katie argued.
Bartholomew sighed. Katie, dont let them in. Im afraid for you.
Bartholomew, Im not saying she was murdered this minute. It might have been years ago. LikeTanya. Maybe it was the same person.
He swung off the bar stool and came before her, planting his hands on his hips. Katie, I am very afraid for you.
Sean will be here in another day or two and then I wont be living alone. Ill be fine. And I know the cops- I know everyone on the street. Im from here, Bartholomew. Ill be fine.
Im sure thats what Tanya Barnard thought! he said dourly. Well, I wont be leaving you alone for a moment, he assured her. He looked her up and down in her terry robe, her makeup clustered in her hands. And you are afraid.
I was startled, thats all.
Well, that robe is going to make a lovely outfit when you go to work.
I was startled. Im not afraid.
Ill follow you and guard the hallway, if youd like to return to your bathroom and further prepare for the evening, he told her.
She lowered her head, smiling. He could trip people; he could now press the on button to start the coffee brewing. She still wasnt sure he could actually guard her. But he was quite the gentleman ghost.
Thanks, she told him.
But when she returned upstairs, no matter how many times she looked into the mirror and then away from it, no ghosts appeared.
The first ghost, she knew, was Tanya.
But who the hell was the dark-haired woman with the tear glistening on her cheek?
As David had expected, evenly dividing the crowd that night left about forty people in each tour group. He was tall, and he stayed toward the back.