Bone Island 03 - Ghost Moon (21 page)

“Did he have a library card? Did he take out a lot of books?”

She frowned, pursing her lips. “No. I told him he could get one. He didn’t want one. He just came and read all the time.”

“Did he ever go into the rare-book room?”

“Yes, I believe he did.”

“His name isn’t on the list of those who entered,” Liam said.

“Oh, it must be!” Matilda protested. “I brought him back there myself.”

“Matilda, I need you to show me the list.”

She nodded, rose and started off straight for the rare-book room. He followed behind her. She keyed open the door and showed him the book on the pedestal.

She frowned after a moment. “Well, I’m sure he signed in. I might have been a bit distracted, but I saw him at the book.”

“Matilda, I need to take this book. Can you bring out a new register for people to sign in?” Liam asked.

“Well, of course. Do you think it can help solve the mystery of his murder?” she asked. “Oh, Liam, this is so frightening!”

“Matilda, I don’t think you need to be afraid.”

She shivered. “But I heard the missing book is all about Satanism.”

“I haven’t read the book, but it’s not really about Satanism, Matilda. It’s about people who thought they could use it, and how they connected with Key West. I’m sure you’re safe. Carry on with the usual, Matilda. Lock your doors, don’t walk around in the dark…. You know all about being smart and safe.” He offered her a reassuring smile. “You taught us all about it. Now, if you don’t mind, will you help me again? Did Gary talk about any of his friends, or his work, or anything else he might have been doing or anywhere he was attempting to go or anything at all that might help me?”

She frowned again, pursing her lips. It seemed to be her mode for thinking.

She shook her head. “We didn’t have long conversations. We talked about books, and his guitar. Oh!”

“Oh?”

“Yes, yes, the last time I saw him—a week or so ago—he was in a bit of a hurry. He was about to go and do a few odd jobs for Jonas Weston at the bed-and-breakfast. Maybe Jonas could help you?” she suggested hopefully.

He smiled. “Thank you. I’ll check into that.”

He took the book and left.

“Avery, he knew,” Kelsey whispered.

“Hmm?” Avery looked up, and then came over to her. “Who knew what, honey?”

“Look at this, read this.”

Avery bent over her and read the notes. “Oh, Lord.
This is frightening, Kelsey, really frightening. Your grandfather thought that—despite the fact that she fell down a staircase—your mom was murdered. But you were there, weren’t you? Wasn’t your father right in the living room?”

Kelsey closed her eyes and thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. When I came running out of my room, my mom was already in my father’s arms, and rescue was on the way. But I’m pretty sure that my dad and Cutter had been right where you and I are now.” She shook her head, trying to conjure up a clear picture of the day she had long ago tried so very hard to forget. “My dad ran out to California. He was trying to get as far as he could from the site of my mom’s death without leaving the States, I’m certain.”

“I’m glad he picked California!” Avery said.

“And that explains so much!” Kelsey said excitedly. “My dad never hated my grandfather, but he wanted me away from him. He thought that Cutter might risk too much in order to find the person he was convinced had killed my mother. I know that my father believed that it was a tragic accident, and he spent the rest of his life brokenhearted. He didn’t want to risk keeping me in Cutter’s house.”

“So sad,” Avery said.

“So sad, yes. But here it is. Cutter owned a reliquary that was worth a million dollars. He also came into ownership of the copy. I don’t know which he owned first. But someone else out there knew that he had it. Cutter believed that people were breaking in. He believed one of those people managed to kill my mom, though I still
don’t understand how or why. My father took me away, knowing that Cutter would spend the rest of his days obsessed with finding a murderer. Cutter died of a heart attack, with a shotgun, the fake reliquary and a book in his arms.”

“Then, within a week, Gary White is murdered on the property,” Avery said. He pulled a piece of Cutter’s monogrammed paper from beneath the heavy jade paperweight that held it down. “List it all out. God knows, it might help.”

She did so. When she was done, he took her by the hand, making her get up. “Come on, we’ll get back to this, but let’s take a break. Come on out—we’ll see if the dolphin is still hanging out by your docks.”

Her back was cramped. Her muscles were tense. She smiled. “Okay.” They walked through the house and out the back together.

He waited. He waited until he was certain that they were gone.

He reminded himself that he was powerful and invisible.

He came to the desk, and he read the sheet that lay there, not touching it. He was tempted to rip it to pieces. He didn’t. He didn’t need anyone suspecting that he was invisible, and that he could come and go at will.

He felt a tic in his cheek. He was angry with what he was feeling. She was close, so close.

Oh, yes, close…close to everything but giving him the real reliquary.

Patience. He had to have patience.

He turned away. He’d had his chance to take the damned book, but he hadn’t. How the hell could he have known that Cutter kept notes in it? He knew that Cutter would find a way to tell Kelsey about the reliquary.

He slipped away, tamping down his fear. He had a real face when he wasn’t invisible. Maybe he could do more with his real face.

In this house, though, he had to take care. He had to remain invisible.

Until it was time. Until Kelsey Donovan had the reliquary.

And he had Kelsey Donovan.

“J
onas, hey,” Liam said. It was easy enough to park at the bed-and-breakfast—on a Tuesday, few places in town were full, and the bed-and-breakfast inns tended to fill up last simply because hotel chains were more readily visible on travel sites.

Jonas was sitting on his front porch, reading the paper, eating his lunch. When Jonas had been growing up, the place had been a single-family dwelling. It was a nice house, with its own little spit of beach, six bedrooms in the main house and, now, two in the old carriage house. He and Clarinda lived in the master on the ground floor of the first house. He was a good innkeeper, with many guests being people who were from the state and returned often during the year. His tiki bar was well-run; his breakfasts were known to be both inventive and very good.

It was impossible to think of him as a thief or a killer.

But, of course, Liam had learned the hard way that you seldom ever really knew another person.

“Liam, hey,” Jonas said. He started to stand. Liam
waved him back down. “Join me. Want some lunch? Clarinda is inside making herself a sandwich. At least have some iced tea or something,”

“I’m fine, really. I’ve got to get back to the station. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Jonas’s brows shot up. “Officially?”

“Casually. I’m hoping you can help me.”

“How?” Jonas looked baffled.

“Two things. I’m looking for a book,” Liam said.

“Um—have you tried the library or a bookstore?” Jonas asked.

Liam grinned. “No, I was at the library. I’m trying to find a book about Satanism in Key West.”

Jonas laughed. “Watch it! People will talk. You’re supposed to be one of the good guys.”

“No, I’m not planning on taking up the black arts,” Liam said. “I was trying to find this particular book. It’s missing from the rare-book room, and you were there. I don’t know, but it’s like I told Jaden and Ted—honest people have been known to slip rare books out of rare-book rooms and slip them back when they’re done with them. Saves a lot of trips to the library.”

“I was there, and I was in the rare-book room,” Jonas said. “But I wasn’t looking for a book on Satanism. I’m still Catholic. Well, my own form of Catholic.” He paused. “You’re not here to talk about religion. What’s the deal with the book?”

“I think it has something to do with Gary White’s murder,” Liam said.

“A book on Satanism?” Jonas asked.

“And the Key West connection,” Liam said.
“Apparently, there was a fellow here during the Civil War. He supposedly caught Southern blockade runners by practicing black magic. Later in life, he knew a fellow named Abel Crowley, who was related to or an admirer of the Aleister Crowley, who was known to be the ‘wickedest man alive.’ Gary, using the name Bel Arcowley, might have taken the book.”

Jonas nodded, and then shook his head. “So why did you think I had taken the book?”

“Gary might have taken the book, and he might not have done so. When he was in the library last, he told the librarian he was headed out here to do some work at the B and B. I don’t know—I thought you two might have talked about it.”

“I hired Gary to do some painting. Upstairs in the old carriage house,” Jonas said. “He wasn’t a bad guy.”

“You didn’t mention it,” Liam said.

“I didn’t think to mention it. We all knew him. Sort of—at least.”

Liam turned; the door to the house was open. Clarinda had come out, a plate with a sandwich in her hands.

“Liam, I don’t believe this! Are you accusing Jonas of something?” she demanded.

Liam sighed. “I’m not accusing. I’m hoping someone will be able to say something that will help me.”

“Well, I was the one who was here most when Gary was working. He came over a few mornings—he worked the streets at night, when he couldn’t get himself some kind of a gig. He’d play on a street corner or down at Mallory Square and hope to make his rent on tips. We
seldom got into any heavy conversations, though,” she said.

She set her plate down at the table and glared at Liam. “I don’t believe this! How long have we all known each other?”

“I’m looking for help, Clarinda,” he said. She was truly outraged. He was fairly certain that if Jonas was up to anything foul at all, Clarinda didn’t know.

“Right. What do you want? We’ll help you. Sure. It was me. I just decided that I didn’t like the guy and it would be fun to kill him and trap him in the tree roots at Kelsey’s place,” Clarinda said.

“Clarinda,” Jonas said.

“Well, a friend we’ve known forever is accusing us of God knows what!” she said angrily.

“I don’t think he was accusing you,” Jonas said.

“Why not? We all know that women are capable of anger. Let’s see, Gary White was always so clean and fresh. I seduced him. And I shot him. Or stabbed him. Sorry, the papers and the news haven’t said just how he was killed,” Clarinda said.

“And he’s not going to tell us, Clarinda. This is his job,” Jonas told her.

“This is outrageous, is what it is,” Clarinda said.

“Clarinda, honestly, I’m hoping you two can help me. You can see the Merlin place from here. I need all the help I can get. I’m asking you both if you’ll keep an eye out, write down anything that you see. I’d greatly appreciate it,” Liam said.

Clarinda stared at him, looked away and sighed softly. “It’s just infuriating, Liam. How long have you known
us? Good God, I serve you dinner half the nights of every week. And Jonas is from here. He’s lived in the same house all his life!”

“Clarinda, I’m looking for answers. I need help.”

“Sure.” She was quiet a minute. “Do you want some iced tea? A sandwich?”

He stood. “No, but thank you. I’m going to head to the station, drop a few things off and start looking into some leads.” He almost said
other
leads. Luckily, the word didn’t slip out. He didn’t need to make her any more antagonistic toward him.

“You have to eat,” Clarinda said.

“I’ll grab something in an hour or so,” he assured her. “Thanks.”

He waved and left them on the porch. As he got back into his car, he noted that there was a telescope on the upstairs wraparound porch.

It was aimed at the Merlin estate.

“See?” Avery said. “It’s friendly. It wants to play.”

“It’s friendly, all right,” Kelsey agreed.

The dolphin, swimming up and down along her dock, watched them. It seemed pleased to entertain them and didn’t make any effort to disappear. Nor did it grow bored, but rather seemed to be listening to their conversation. It swam up and down and hovered, and then disappeared for a minute, only to reappear doing a majestic leap out in the deeper water.

“I wonder if Liam was right, and he’s lost from one of the dolphin facilities—there are several in the Keys,” Kelsey said.

“Do they ever act like this when they’re just wild?” Avery asked.

“Hmm. Honestly, I don’t know,” Kelsey said. “I mean, I’ve seen them swim alongside boats when we’ve gone out, and they leap as a natural behavior. He does seem to like human interaction. I’ll mention it to Liam again. Maybe he’s heard of a dolphin that was lost somehow. I get the feeling that they’re pretty good at knowing where they’re going, though. I don’t know. But he is fascinating.”

“He’s a nice diversion,” Avery said. “I think I’ll call him Jimmy. Is it a he?”

“I can’t tell you,” Kelsey said. “He’s looking at us and leaping around pretty quickly.”

“Ah, well, if it’s a girl, Jimmy can be short for Jimima. How’s that?”

“Sounds fine to me. I’m going to head back in.”

“I’m going to talk to Jimmy for a while longer,” Avery said.

“Okay.”

“But I’m here for the long run, Kelsey. I’ll be helping you from here on out.”

“It’s okay, spend some time with Jimmy.”

“Maybe I’ll get in the water later.”

“They can be aggressive,” Kelsey warned.

“I’ll watch myself.”

“The water is probably pretty cool. It wasn’t bad the other day, but it can be cool in winter.”

“Hey, I dive in the Pacific, Kelsey. I’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t you wait a bit? I want to keep looking through that book, find more of my grandfather’s notes,”
Kelsey said. “Later on, I’ll break for the day and we can go for a bit of a swim together.”

“All right. We’ll talk a bit—Jimmy and me—and then I’ll be in.”

Kelsey turned around and walked back into the house. When she entered the office, she held still, a scream caught in her throat.

She wasn’t alone.

Liam drove back up to the new side of the island, looking to see if Chris Vargas was out pounding the pavement again with a sign and a cup.

He didn’t see him.

He went to the station and dropped off the magic trick that had so badly scared Kelsey, and the rare-book room registration ledger, asking Ricky Long to get it to a handwriting expert. He wanted to know if Gary White had been the person who had signed in as Bel Arcowley.

Art Saunders had been with the officers who had gone through Gary White’s tiny efficiency studio on Petronia Street. Liam stopped to talk to him, and Art assured him that he hadn’t found a rare book.

In fact, he hadn’t found a book at all.

“I looked at his bills, found his checkbook, searched his drawers, his shelves—I didn’t find anything at all. He didn’t have a cell phone or a landline. There was nothing.”

“Thanks. I’ll probably do a double check,” Liam said.

Art nodded. He wasn’t offended. Another pair of eyes was never discounted.

Liam left instructions for Art to question a number of the bars where Gary had done his one-man song-and-guitar routine, and left. He drove up and down Duval looking for Chris Vargas again, and at last saw him with his rickshaw on Front Street.

Vargas saw him and flinched, but he didn’t try to move away from the corner where he’d been standing, calling out his services to passing tourists.

“What?” he groaned when Liam pulled his car over and came out to talk to him.

“What do you mean what?” Liam demanded. “A man is dead. A man who was supposedly your friend.”

“My friend, that’s the point, Lieutenant Beckett. Please…”

Vargas winced, looking down at the ground.

“I need to know what Gary White was doing before his death,” Liam said.

“Doing? The usual. He was playing his guitar. Trying to make ends meet. He bussed tables and washed dishes sometimes. When he was lucky, he played his guitar and sang. You know, neither one of us needs all that much, and so, even at what it was, his life was good the way he saw it. We’re not druggies. We know the cheap bars and the cheap eats. If anything is cheap down here. But we did well enough.”

“If you were so happy with the status quo, why were you in the Merlin house?” Liam asked.

Vargas groaned. “Can’t you figure that by now? Kids had broken in. It seemed like something easy to do. We weren’t going to steal anything big. We were just look
ing for an easy object to pawn and make enough to get ahead a bit, that’s all.”

“And that was the last time you saw him?”

“Yeah, that was the last time I saw him.”

“Do you know why he was going to the library, entering the rare-book room with an assumed name?” Liam asked.

“What?”

“Never mind. Let’s start over. Whose idea was it to break into the Merlin house?”

Vargas flushed, looking away. “Mine,” he admitted.

“Have you been visiting the library?” Liam asked him.

Vargas’s face twisted in a frown. “The library? No. I’m not much of a reader. Neither was Gary. I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“There’s a book missing from the rare-book room.”

“I didn’t steal any book,” Vargas said. “Look, I’ve been telling you the truth. I knew about the kids breaking into the house. I thought we could slip in, find some little thing and slip back out. I admitted it that night. I did not steal a book. I’m not a library kind of guy.”

“Who else was Gary hanging around with?” Liam asked.

Vargas shrugged. “I don’t know. Gary just hangs around. Look, can I go back to work now?”

“It didn’t really look like you were working,” Liam commented.

“I was trying to work. And a cop hanging around me doesn’t help bring in the inebriated tourist who may need a little help getting back to his hotel room.”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” Liam said, frustrated.

Vargas stared at him.

“Go on.”

“I need you to leave. This is my corner,” Vargas told him.

One of Key West’s innumerable roosters crowed off-hour and went walking by them. “Watch yourself, Vargas,” he warned.

“I will. Swear it,” Vargas said.

Liam returned to his car. He sat there a minute, wishing that he wasn’t grasping at straws.

“You see me,” the apparition said quietly.

It was the pirate. The outline she had seen walking behind Liam. She was either falling under too much pressure, or she was staring at the ghost of a long-gone swain, a handsome man, perhaps thirty, decked out in the fashion of his day.

He might have been flesh and blood as he stood there. He had been staring broodingly out the study window, until she had opened the door.

And seen him.

“I see…” she whispered, “something.”

She blinked. He didn’t disappear.

It was still broad daylight. She was wide awake, not dreaming.

“Well, you’re not screaming or running,” he said, moving away from the window to come to the center of the room.

He still looked real. So damned real. And his voice.
She could see him speaking just as if he were Liam or Avery or any other living man.

“May I introduce myself?” he asked, sweeping off his hat in a broad and elegant gesture, bending low in a bow. “Captain Bartholomew, privateer, unjustly led to the gallows, though that travesty has since been righted. And still I remain. The Becketts and I are connected, you see.”

She was silent, staring at him, trying to determine if she could possibly be seeing—and hearing—a ghost.

Ghosts. Apparitions. Spirits. They were supposed to be nothing but mist. They roamed the fields of Gettysburg and such places as the Vatican or Westminster Abbey, Notre Dame, the Lizzie Borden house. They went about their spectral existences without stopping to talk to people, for God’s sake, and a man such as Liam, a cop, for God’s sake, did not walk around with a ghost for a friend.