Bone Island 01 - Ghost Shadow (24 page)

“Ghosts don’t really have that kind of strength,” she said.

“What? Katie, these murders are being committed by someone who is flesh and blood, whatever may have gone on in the past.”

“Of course,” she said. “But I do think that the key lies in the past.”

“Absolutely. I’ll get the books tomorrow-we’ll spend all the time before you have to go to work reading through them.”

She smiled and nodded, and then her smile faded. “Any word on Danny Zigler?”

“I thought that you believed that he was dead.”

“I know that he’s dead. I was wondering if they had found him.”

“How do you know for certain?” David asked her.

Sean came to the doorway. “She saw it in a dream. Come on, Katie, you don’t want to get started late tonight. The flaming temper of the Irish-American Jamie O’Hara is a terrible thing to behold.”

“Yep, let’s go,” Katie agreed, anxious to be out.

When they walked in, David found himself instantly welcomed by Jamie O’Hara-who had shirt and frock coat waiting for him. “Arrrrr!” Jamie said. “Pirate night! They’re closing the street off-there’s going to be a parade happening in a few minutes. Katie, the place is hopping. Start them off with something pirate-y, will you?”

“Sure-can I boot up the computer and set the microphones and the amps?” Katie asked.

“Arrrr!” Jamie said in good humor.

“Hey!” Sean nudged David. “Head on back and change into that pirate garb, my good fellow.”

David was about to protest; he didn’t. Why not? He wanted to blend into the crowd. He wanted to watch. Years had gone by now, and he had no intention of leaving until the whole thing was solved. He couldn’t explain it but he felt as if some pieces of the puzzle were coming together. He’d watch until, eventually, the killer made a mistake.

He headed back to the men’s restroom to change. The acoustics and sound system in the place were good. He could hear Katie, welcoming everyone to Key West, Fantasy Fest and O’Hara’s Pub. She pointed out her request slips and her songbooks, and said that anyone was welcome to ask her about a song not in the books, as well-some could be found on the computer. She opened the evening with a charming rendition of a Disney pirate song-one that every pirate in the place sang along with her.

He headed out, appropriately attired then in his huge blousy shirt, frock coat, swashbuckling hat-and Levi’s jeans and Nike sneakers. As he headed around the bar to the stage area, he saw that Katie had stopped singing.

The pirates in the place assumed it was their job to keep going, and they were all certainly rowdy enough-and drunk enough-to do so.

Katie set down her microphone-and headed out the door.

“Katie!” He shouted her name and went running after her.

She was out in the middle of the street. The parade had begun, and chanting pirates, wenches, fire-eaters, flag wavers, small floats-even costumed dogs-were marching along, and sidestepping Katie. There was a figure running north down Duval.

Someone dressed as Robert the Doll!

Katie was chasing him.

David chased Katie.

Suddenly she stopped, and stared across the street at oversize Robert the Doll. Held in spot by a weight at the bottom by the feet, the figure seemed to move back and forth.

The huge effigy remained. The costumed Robert the Doll had disappeared.

“Katie!” David cried.

She seemed completely oblivious to him.

He rushed after her, but he was captured by a pirate wench, and spun around the street.

As politely and firmly as he could, he extricated himself.

He turned around, seeking Katie. She was across the street, wrenching at the effigy.

“Katie!”

Suddenly, he knew.

He knew the smell in the street.

And he knew what was going to happen.

Katie was tugging with a vengeance at the straw arms of the effigy. He reached her just in time to wrest her away as one of the arms came free.

As straw spilled out onto the street…

The thing crumbled, falling apart around the bottom weight.

Exposing the decomposing corpse of Danny Zigler.

It took forever for the sounds of sirens to cut through the revelry of the crowd, or so it seemed. It seemed forever that Katie stood there, staring at Danny.

The stench that rose from him was horrible. Even when the dead heat of summer ebbed and fall began to arrive in South Florida, the sun was viciously hot. Encased in the effigy, Danny had been held in something like an oven.

When she had ripped up the effigy and he was exposed, the odor had risen like a miasma.

Katie imagined that the odor was actually what had finally alerted the revelers to the fact that there was something very serious, horrid and tragic going on. At first, people thought it was all part of a Key West game.

A game…

Key West loved her pirates.

She loved her ghost stories.

Her eccentrics…

She was a city that loved equality and fairness, a party, a good time, history, water and more.

This wasn’t customary.

Finally, though, the screams in the street became louder than the sounds of the sirens. The parade dispersed. Shopkeepers, innkeepers, costumed entertainers, bartenders-all came out to the streets, staring with horror. There was such a crowd that everyone had to whisper to everyone else, asking what had happened.

Uniformed officers on horseback were the first to arrive. The rescue vehicle was forced to park on a side road along with the detectives and crime-scene investigators.

Katie just stood, feeling it all, seeing all, sensing it all and feeling David’s supporting arms around her, for what seemed like forever.

Then Liam was there, the one to officially question her while they awaited Lieutenant Dryer’s arrival on the scene.

She heard snatches of conversation from the medical examiner and techs.

“Oh, Lord, he’s ripe!”

“Been in there at least a few days.”

“Must have been dead since he went missing.”

“Cause of death?”

“No way to know-he’s far too bloated. Got to get him to the morgue.”

“Katie,” Liam said. “What happened? Witnesses said that you just came to the effigy and started tearing at it. How did you know that Danny was in it?”

“What?” she asked, blinking.

“How did you know that Danny had been stuffed into the effigy?” Liam persisted.

“I-I, umm, well, I saw someone. Out the door-the doors at O’Hara’s are open, of course, you know. And I saw someone dressed in a Robert the Doll costume, and then the giant Robert the Doll effigy was right behind him, and I remembered the-the odor-and it seemed as if it was coming right in the bar and I…” She let her voice trail away. “I guess that I freaked out a bit, Liam. I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t take the smell and I suddenly realized it was coming from the effigy.”

“What about the manufacturer-how did Danny wind up in the doll?” David asked.

“The doll was up before Danny disappeared,” Liam said, glancing at his notes. “The manufacturer is local, just up on Stock Island. They’ve done these dozens of times. And the effigy was set up by the salsa club right there, and they’re baffled and mystified-again, they said that the doll was in perfect shape from the manufacturer when they assembled it.”

“So someone killed Danny Zigler and stuffed his body into a giant-size effigy of another Key West legend,” David said.

“That’s what it looks like so far,” Liam said.

The medical examiner and police photographers gave the word and the corpse was lifted into a body bag-oozing liquids-to be taken to the M.E.’s office.

The owners of the salsa bar argued with the police; that area of the street would have to remain cordoned off until it had been thoroughly inspected and cleared by crime scene. It was Fantasy Fest. What was the city going to do about the amount of money they were going to lose?

Katie had felt ridiculously frozen and weak. Paralyzed. Horrified.

But she was suddenly angry. It wasn’t a shock; she had seen Danny’s ghost. When she had looked out the door and seen him, then the costumed Robert the Doll performer, she had known. Danny had been showing her where he could be found. Poor Danny. He would have been so horrified. He loved Key West.

Now, he was part of Key West. Part of the stories and lore that would be told to generations from now until eternity.

“Am I free to go?” she asked Liam suddenly.

“Of course, Katie. But-” Liam began.

“Thank you,” she told him.

She made her way through the gaping crowd on the street and back to O’Hara’s. Her brother was there, looking aggravated, but managing to put up a stream of pirate songs with singers, music and words intact. He was startled when he saw her arrive.

“Katie, you just found the corpse of an old friend. Get David to take you home,” Sean said. “Or leave David. I’ll take you home. Hell, Jamie would close this place down and take you home.”

“No,” Katie said angrily. “No, everyone is acting like Danny is something disgusting in the street, as if he’s an annoyance, ruining a pirate parade.”

She took the microphone. “Folks, everyone knows that something terrible just happened. Everyone tried to get close, to find out what happened. Well, I’ll tell you. A friend of ours disappeared a few days ago. People were mad at him-they thought that he’d sloughed off work. In fact, it was even suspected that he had killed a woman. But he didn’t. He was murdered himself. He wasn’t an odor in the street-he was a good guy, a true conch, a real part of Key West. His name was Danny Zigler. He didn’t need a lot of money. He loved Key West, and he loved the simple things in life. This is for him. Honor him with me, if you will.”

She went to the computer and set “Danny Boy” to play. There was a dead silence at first.

“Danny Zigler was Irish?” Someone asked with confusion.

“Everyone’s Irish on St. Patrick’s day,” a drunk sloshed out in reply.

“Sing along, a good fellow is gone and departed!” someone else said.

When it was over, she felt David at her side. “Katie, come on. We’re going.”

“We can’t go,” she said dully.

“We can. Sean and Clarinda can handle your system. And it will thin out early-even in the middle of Fantasy Fest, a dead man means something, Katie.”

She let him drag her away. She had known that Danny was dead. He hadn’t been her best friend, but he had been a fixture in her life. He had always been there.

David took her home. She wondered that he was with her, and she felt a little numb, and a little awed. He probably wanted to be haunting the police station. He’d want to know what happened to Danny Zigler. He had to be noting the fact that all the deaths were coupled with Key West legends.

At her house, she ran up and showered the minute they were inside. The smell of death had seemed to permeate her. She scrubbed her hair several times. At last she emerged and wrapped into her terry robe.

David had evidently decided to use her brother’s shower-the scent of decay and death had been too much for him, too. He was out of his pirate garb and in Sean’s clothing, something she was certain he would explain and Sean would understand. He had made her something hot.

“Tea-with a good dose of whiskey,” he told her, handing her the cup.

“I’m all right. I’m really all right. I knew that Danny was dead. It was just that it was so horrible-seeing him, like that. I’ve seen the dead before, I’ve been to funerals…but that!”

“Death is seldom gentle,” he told her.

She sipped the tea, and noted that it was very strongly laced with whiskey. She carried it out to the parlor and saw that Bartholomew was seated on the sofa, watching her with sorrowful eyes. “I wish I had realized, Katie. I can’t really…I don’t get scents and odors anymore. I would have stopped you. I tried to stop you, and you didn’t even see me.”

“It’s all right,” she murmured.

David had come behind her. He set his hands on her shoulders. “Go on up to bed, Katie. Try to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“You will. I’ll be here.”

She nodded after a moment, draining the tea. The whiskey washed through her, warm and soothing. “All right.”

She gave him the cup and headed for the stairs. She heard him make a startled sound. On the first step, she turned back.

David was still standing in the middle of the parlor, holding her cup.

He was staring at the table.

The ledger, the Beckett family ledger was moving.

Bartholomew was pushing it toward him, of course. He didn’t see Bartholomew.

But he had to see the ledger moving.

She went on up the stairs. As he had said, despite all that was haunting her mind-or perhaps because of it-she slept.

He’d had one beer. One damned beer.

And it seemed that the ledger on the table was moving. It was open.

He was tired. So damned tired. And more disturbed than ever. When Katie had gone on into the pub, Liam had told him that the police had gone into Danny Zigler’s house at last.

There had been no sign of books about the history of Key West.

There had been no money.

“You’re sure it’s what you saw, David?” Liam had asked him.

“Yes, I’m a photographer. I have pictures,” David told him.

“Then someone else let themselves into Danny’s apartment. Hell, David, I may have to let Pete know that you were in there.”

“Liam, don’t do anything just yet. Give me a little more time before I get arrested myself, thrown off the island, or until Pete decides he’s not letting me move out the door.”

“David, I’m feeling pretty damned slimy right now,” Liam told him.

“Pretend I never trusted you. Just give me a little more time. I don’t know why-I’m feeling that I can almost touch the last piece of the puzzle.”

He hated what he was asking Liam to do. But he also knew that someone out there was wearing a facade of complete normalcy-and killing people under that cover.

The ledger had been moving. In his mind’s eye, anyway. It was subconsciously telling him that the answers were right in front of him-he had to find them.

He set Katie’s empty teacup down and walked toward the ledger. It was open to a page filled with elaborate script that was somewhat difficult to read. But he knew the book; it had been in the family forever. Craig had told him that Alice and Esther had decided that their role in life was to preserve family history. They had recorded births and deaths, and events that had occurred in Key West during their lives.

Before Alice and Esther had recorded in the book, the task had been taken on by Josiah Beckett, his great-grandfather. Before that, it had been Helena, youngest daughter of the first Craig Beckett. And before that, it had been Beckett himself who had kept the records.

None of that mattered. The book was open to a page that recorded when the territory of Florida had become a state, and when David Porter had brought down his Mosquito Squadron, and piracy had been brought to an end.

He read over and over the part about the assault on the ship, the death of Victoria and the lynching of Bartholomew. He read about his ancestor’s fury and insistence that an innocent man had been hanged, and that a guilty man must be brought to justice. And how he had watched at the hanging tree himself while Smith had met with his end. Craig Beckett had stood there while Smith had cursed his family, something that hadn’t disturbed him in the least. He believed in men, in justice and in God-he did not believe in curses.

He definitely hadn’t been cursed, David thought. The first Craig Beckett had lived out a long and prosperous life.

The key turned in the outside lock and Sean O’Hara came in. David glanced at his watch. It was nearly 5:00 a.m. He should have been sleeping himself.

Sean came into the parlor. “Katie?” he asked.

“She went to bed several hours ago,” David said.

Sean nodded. “What a night, huh? Life is so-messed up, really. And then, maybe not. Maybe we all know that we’re mortal, and we live just like Poe suggested in ‘The Masque of the Red Death.’ Dance until we drop ourselves. A man was found dead-even the most dense person has to assume murdered, since it would have been impossible for him to stuff his own corpse in an effigy. The revelry continued though. Cities have lives of their own, I suppose. And since tourists didn’t know Danny Zigler…”

Sean left off. “Did you wonder why I came home, David?” he asked then.

“Because you knew I was coming here,” David answered.

Sean nodded. “Bizarre, really. I knew that you hadn’t killed Tanya. Or, should I say, I believed that you hadn’t killed Tanya. But there was just something about the fact that you were going to be here. I didn’t know that you were seeing Katie, but I knew she wanted to open the museum. Maybe I knew that you would try to stop her. God knows, you’re the only one not trying to make a buck off of tragedy! But something is going on. Something that started when we were kids just out of school and heading into college. It’s still going on.” He reached into his pocket. “I’ve made a list.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re on it, and I’m on it.”

“Naturally.”

Sean came in and sat down on the end of the sofa, spreading out his list, made on a cocktail napkin.

In a neat row Sean had lined up names.

Pete Dryer

Pete Dryer’s family

David Beckett

Liam Beckett

Mike Sanderson

Sam Barnard

Sean O’Hara

Jamie O’Hara

Danny Zigler

“I’ve made a similar list a dozen times in my mind,” David said. “We can scratch out Danny Zigler-Danny is dead. We can scratch out Dryer’s family. I don’t think they’ve ever come back, even though they don’t live far away. Oh, you can scratch out Mike Sanderson-he proved that he had an alibi this afternoon.”

“And I’m going to scratch out you and me.”

“You can scratch out Jamie, your uncle, too. A dozen witnesses knew that he never left O’Hara’s that night,” David said.

“Okay, so that leaves Tanya’s brother, Sam Barnard, my cousin and a cop, Liam Beckett, and Pete Dryer, a major-league cop,” David said.

“That’s right.”

“My cousin was nowhere near the museum that night,” David said. “Pete was.”

“Pete’s a police lieutenant. And who knows? Maybe Sam hated his sister. Maybe Liam has envied you his whole life. Hey, you were the apple of your grandfather’s eye. You were the star football hero.”