Bone Island 03 - Ghost Moon (25 page)

“Sorry, sorry!” Kelsey said, opening her eyes and sitting up straight. “I shouldn’t have spoken while you were driving. I can see and hear Bartholomew just fine, thank you very much.”

Katie’s jaw dropped.

“Katie, it’s fine. I’m glad that Bartholomew is such a wonderful ghost, that he’s so watchful. I’m thrilled to know that ghosts exist. I have to believe in a concept of heaven—it’s the only way I can live with everything that has happened in my life. I’m sure many people feel that way, and some scholars say that’s why we invented religions. But Bartholomew is great, he gives me faith and hope and all kinds of good thoughts,” Kelsey said.

“Bravo,” Bartholomew murmured.

Katie still couldn’t find her voice.

“It would be lovely if he had come across my mom, though,” Kelsey said.

“I’m so sorry,” Bartholomew said.

Katie gazed over at Kelsey. She started to speak, then stopped. “Wait! Tell me again—there was a dolphin at your docks. One that watched you. One that seemed intelligent and interested in people?”

“Yes,” Kelsey said slowly.

“Kelsey…oh, never mind! Wait! We’re almost there. You’ll remember when we get there. Never mind,” she repeated excitedly. “Kelsey, your mom was always watching out for injured sea creatures. She helped save all kinds of animals, and instigate legislation, but…I think that dolphin does know you.”

Kelsey frowned. She and her mom had been in a group that had gone out and saved a beached dolphin off of Smathers Beach years ago, and they’d gone north in the state once to help rescue a stranded manatee, too.

Katie turned on her blinker, and they turned off into the parking lot of one of the Keys’s dolphin research establishments, a nonprofit organization that did swims and interaction with the creatures and worked with them on intelligence levels. They also took in old animals that were no longer working at various theme parks across the country.

“You remember this place, don’t you?” Katie asked.

“Yes, of course. We came several times.” She gasped. “Oh, they took in the dolphin we rescued that time! And it somehow made it back to our docks…and came back here on its own. Yes, yes, I do remember! Its name was Morgan. The guys were all drinking Captain Morgan rum after the rescue, and he became known as Captain Morgan!”

“Morgan, for short. They like to work with quick, short names,” Katie said.

She set the car into Park and headed across the stone parking area to the front door. A woman at the counter told them that Betty Garcia, director of animal
management, was in, and she would call and see if she was available.

While they waited, Kelsey bought Avery several T-shirts with dolphin emblems and sayings. She smiled as she did so.

Bartholomew groaned softly at a few of her choices, but she ignored him.

Betty Garcia appeared to be about sixty; she had a sprightly step, a beautiful smile and sparkling blue eyes. Kelsey didn’t remember her.

She remembered Kelsey.

“How lovely to see you, Kelsey! You’ve grown up just beautifully. Your mother would be so very proud of you!” She held Kelsey’s hands for a moment, and then turned to Katie, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad you drove up. Of course, I heard about Cutter, dear. Were you able to see him at all before he died?”

Kelsey swallowed and shook her head.

“Well, well, he led a good life. So, how can I help you?”

“Betty, I think that Captain Morgan might be down by Kelsey’s place again,” Katie said.

Betty smiled. “I think you might be right. He is out. But we don’t worry about him. He’s one of the dolphins we let swim when a storm is approaching, and he always comes back. And once every two or three years, he takes an outing.” Her beautiful smile faded. “He’s all right?”

“Oh, yes,” Kelsey said quickly. “My friend is convinced that a dolphin saved his life.”

“He fell into the water with a conk on his head,” Katie explained briefly.

“Well, look who you’re giving this information!” Betty said. “Are you asking me if I think it’s possible? Yes. Dolphins have been known to go so far as to push drowning victims to shore. They’ve been trained for the military, which, of course, doesn’t thrill me. I always try to weigh human life against animal life, but…well! There are those who think we’re wrong to keep dolphins in captivity, but we have all manner of animals in captivity, don’t we? Many of ours wouldn’t survive in the wild, but to some, that’s not the point. In my mind, God gave the world to all creatures. Man rose above the rest. He eats cows, makes glue from horses’ hooves and does many a deed far more evil than rescuing and learning about wonderful mammals like dolphins.” She laughed softly. “Did you two want a tour? I’ll send someone down in a few days if Morgan doesn’t come back up. I’m not surprised that he’s at your place, though, Kelsey. That animal loved your mother. He was in your little lagoon there right after he was rescued. Don’t you remember?”

“Vaguely,” Kelsey said. “I—I’ve been away a long time. A really long time. I forget.”

“Well, your mother loved that dolphin, and that dolphin loved your mother. If you go in the water, he’ll swim alongside you. He’s very friendly. I just worry about him because he is so friendly. We’ll take a drive down soon.”

“That’s great. Thank you, Betty,” Kelsey said.

“Now, really, how about a tour? It’s been so long since you’ve been here,” Betty said.

“We’ll come back,” Katie promised. “I just wanted…I just wanted Kelsey to have a chance to see you and ask about Captain Morgan.”

“Anytime, girls. And we’d love to have you back as volunteers.”

“I actually live in California now,” Kelsey said.

“Ah, well, this will always be home though, won’t it?” Betty asked. She gave them a wave. “I’ve got to get back to work! Therapy session with some of my best girls and some autistic children this afternoon. Now, that’s something so enjoyable! If everyone just saw those children with the dolphins… Ah, well, it takes all kinds to make a world, right?”

Back in the car, Katie smiled at Kelsey. “Okay, so I couldn’t give you the ghost of your mom, but…I don’t know. Maybe Captain Morgan came back as her representative?”

Kelsey felt Bartholomew’s hand on the back of her head, a gentle stroke.

“Love never dies, Kelsey. Maybe that is her way.”

“And that from a ghost,” Kelsey said. “I’ll take it. Thank you. Thank you both.”

Liam took the short drive to Stock Island by himself.

The last key before Key West, it had been so named because, for years, it was where all the stock had been kept.

Now, of course, it still had much more land for animal
facilities, but it also had its own share of bars and restaurants and hotels, a theater and much more.

He was at the third farm that sold goats when he met with success.

“Yes, we sold a goat just yesterday,” the clerk in the farm’s office told them. “Henry. He was a three-year-old, sold to a man with a preserve up in the middle Keys.”

“How do you know that?” Liam asked.

“Because the man told me!” she said.

“Please tell me that it was a credit-card sale,” Liam said.

“Oh, no. The man paid cash!”

Liam winced. “You wouldn’t still have any of those bills in the register, would you?”

“No, I’m afraid we deposit every night.”

“You have a bill of sale?” he asked.

“Of course!” she said.

“May I see it?”

“Of course,” she said again, eager to be helpful.

“What did this man look like?” Liam asked.

“Oh, um, regular height. He had a beard, a mustache…and he was regular build. You know, not skinny, not heavy.”

“What was he wearing?”

“A sweatshirt with a hood. It has been cool a few of the days lately.”

She was describing anyone, he thought.

She handed him the bill of sale.

He wasn’t surprised to see the name of the purchaser. Bel Arcowley.

“Go to the cemetery,” Bartholomew said.

Kelsey turned back to look at him. “You think that…we might find my mom?” she asked. “Or Cutter?”

“I haven’t seen them yet,” Bartholomew said patiently. “But I thought you might like to meet Pete Edwards.”

“Will I be able to see him?” Kelsey asked.

“I don’t know,” Bartholomew said. “But Katie will.”

That seemed good enough.

Katie drove to the Key West cemetery, parking as close as she could to the open gate.

They had been there just a few days ago, Kelsey thought.

Burying Cutter.

They walked down Passover Lane, moving slowly.

“Where does he usually hang out?” Katie asked.

“By the Confederate Navy section,” Bartholomew told her.

Kelsey glanced over at Katie, wondering what she was seeing.

“Anyone?” she whispered.

Katie glanced at her. “Several people,” she said softly. “I don’t know how to tell people to see ghosts. Just…I guess just knowing that they may exist is the best way.”

“Open yourself up,” Bartholomew told her.

She wasn’t sure how one “opened” themselves up, but she tried to concentrate on the cemetery. It was peaceful, eclectic and beautiful in an odd way. A glorious angel
rose above one tomb, and she appreciated the beauty of the funerary art.

“I believe I see one of the Curry women,” Katie said. “She’s mourning the death of her husband. She might not know that she has joined him.”

Kelsey looked. The air seemed to ripple.

“She’s a lovely woman in a draping dress, short bobbed hair,” Katie said. In the same tone, she continued, “Do you think I’ve had too many island drinks?” she asked Kelsey.

Kelsey smiled. “I know that we’re walking with a handsome man in a hat and elegant brocade coat who is manly in tights,” she said lightly.

“Hose, my dear girl. Hose. I do not wear tights,” Bartholomew said.

The woman to whom Katie had been referring suddenly began to become a form before Kelsey’s eyes. First there just seemed to be an outline of a figure, and then Kelsey saw her.

Katie gripped her by the arm. “Don’t stop and gape.”

“Very rude, I’m afraid,” Bartholomew said.

“I’m so sorry!” Kelsey said.

“Leave her to her thoughts,” Bartholomew said.

The Beckett family vault was ahead to their left, while the O’Haras had their small mausoleum farther on, toward the monument to the sailors of the
Maine.
Kelsey’s family members were in a vault in the back section. The cemetery also had avenues, but she wasn’t sure where everything was, so Kelsey simply followed Bartholomew and Katie.

As she did so, shapes and figures slowly began to form here and there before her. She saw at least ten spirits walking in the graveyard.

She couldn’t help scanning the specters or spirits before her, hoping against hope.

“There,” Bartholomew said.

She saw the man. He was old, perhaps eighty or ninety. His clothing had something of an Edwardian appearance to it, and he knelt down in prayer.

“Slowly,” Bartholomew said.

They walked behind him.

“Peter,” Bartholomew said.

The man looked up. He saw Katie and Kelsey. He stared at them both. He seemed to want to struggle to his feet. Bartholomew reached down to help him up.

“You see me,” he said. Kelsey was surprised that he addressed her, rather than Katie.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Why? Why are you here?”

“People are dying, Peter,” Bartholomew said. “Someone is copying your rituals.”

The ghost shook his head slowly. “I tried to atone. I knew that the hatred in my heart was so deep that it was the evil itself. I did not make things happen. I made people believe that they could happen. I had the book, the book of goodness against evil.”

“In Defense from Dark Magick,”
Kelsey said softly.

He nodded. “I prayed with it. I prayed for those I hated, and those who were betrayed. And I prayed for
forgiveness, for the war took so many souls, and I added to the misery.”

Kelsey moved closer to him. “What about a man named Abel Crowley, Mr. Edwards?”

He waved a hand impatiently in the air. “A fake, a fraud! A man who had heard of me and my supposed powers during the war. He came wanting to know about my rites and my sacrifices. He wanted to be known as a wicked man, a Satanist. He came to me as a friend, and I told him of many of my sins.”

“What did you sacrifice?” Katie asked.

“Goats, roosters, on the beach. But they became dead goats and roosters, and no more,” Peter told them. “Crowley was a fool—I doubt he had any relationship with Aleister Crowley. He wanted to be revered and feared. He opened his house to the desperate, and he told them he could help them through secret arts. Only fools believed him. He worked as many a voodoo priest or priestess or fortune hunter has worked. He would gather information and pretend to
see
it, and then he would sell that information in his work. He gathered together the very rich for a coven, and he took their money and caused them to do the evil deeds he wanted done.” He stared at Kelsey again. “I’m sorry. I’m very sorry for whatever is happening. But I have nothing to do with it now. I learned. Evil people will use fear and awe to make others do their bidding. Know that, and don’t be afraid, and you will find the truth.” He waved a hand in the air. “There’s nothing else I can tell you,” he said. He turned.

Bartholomew helped him back to his knees. “Thank you, Peter,” he said.

They walked slowly out of the cemetery.

Kelsey kept looking.

She didn’t see her mother.

And she didn’t see Cutter.

She couldn’t sense or feel them, either.

She did feel a sense of overwhelming sadness.

It was time to get back to the Merlin house.

And time to find the reliquary.

“I
’ve got it, I’ve got the book!” Jaden said, the excitement in her voice radiant through Liam’s cell phone.

“Already?” he asked.

“FedEx—and you owe me,” she assured him. “I put a rush order out, and it was a rare-book shop in upstate New York. Oh, and you owe me for the book, too. It isn’t a first edition—but it wasn’t a megaseller by any means, so each new print run was fairly small. It’s a fourth edition, and it was still two hundred dollars, so you can head over and pay me and pick it up anytime you like.”

“Thanks, Jaden. I’m on Stock Island. I just brought a sketch artist out here, so I’ll be about another half an hour.”

“Why don’t you meet us at O’Hara’s?”

“All right—be careful with the book, huh?”

“I need to be worried about an old book most people would pay me not to take?” she asked.

“Hey, who knew a goat needed to be worried on Smathers Beach last night?”

“I heard about that. What the hell happened?” she asked.

“That’s what I’m investigating now.”

“The murder of a goat?”

“The
sacrifice
of a goat,” he said.

He rang off from Jaden and watched as the clerk gave one of the station’s forensic artists a description of the man who had purchased the goat, watching as the face took on life. There was something about the eyes that seemed familiar, but in the end, Liam was disappointed.

The sketch looked like a drawing of the Unabomber.

But it might help.

He was still waiting for the artist to finish with the last details when his phone rang.

“Liam?” It was Kelsey.

“Hey, how is Avery?”

“Doing really well. We had to force him to stay in the hospital,” she said.

“We?” he asked.

“Katie, Vanessa and I. Vanessa is staying with him tonight. I’m back at the house. Don’t worry, I’m not alone—Katie is with me.”

He frowned. He’d had an alarm company over there during the day; she hadn’t known about it. “Kelsey, how—”

“Katie knew the two men setting up the system. We all met, chatted and had tea before they left. I came home, Liam, because I had to. I have to figure out where that reliquary is. And, thank you. The alarm system should have been a given. Anyway, Katie and I are here, we’re
reading and sorting, and looking through everything we can find.”

He wasn’t sure why he felt so worried.

“They finished setting the alarm system?” he asked.

“Yes, and I have the secret codes down pat and all that. I’ll show you when you come home.”

When you come home.
The words were sweet.

“I have a better idea. I’m just finishing up on Stock Island, and Jaden got the copy of the book that was taken from the library. The book about Abel Crowley and Pete Edwards. I’m going to meet her at O’Hara’s. Come on up with Katie, and we’ll head back to the house together.”

She agreed, and they hung up.

He looked at the sketch again. He wondered if the goat purchaser and ritual sacrifice slayer had worn fake eyebrows to match his beard and mustache.

When she hung up from Liam, Kelsey thought that he had called her right back. Her phone rang, and she answered it.

“Hello?”

At first, she heard nothing.

Then, she heard breathing.

“Liam?”

There was no answer.

She hung up and looked at the number on her caller ID. It was listed as Private.

Thinking little of it, she shoved her phone back into her pocket.

“Ah, another one!” Bartholomew said. He was sitting behind the desk in Cutter’s office, reading from
In Defense from Dark Magick.
He seemed to have the art of turning pages down quite well, but he looked at her. “Sorry, I’m not talented enough to unfold the paper. It’s parchment thin.”

“Thanks, I’ve got it,” she said.

Katie had been going through the bookshelves one by one, picking up, dusting off and returning books and objects, and making sure that nothing was hidden behind any of the books. She walked over as Kelsey took the little parchment from Bartholomew and carefully opened it. She read aloud.

“Kelsey was always my little wonder child. She was fascinated with history. Her friends’ parents sometimes thought I must be very odd, even scary, because of the objects I collected. But Kelsey knew and understood peoples and cultures, and as we often discussed, there are so many paths to God. Kelsey knew that the true path to God only came through great sacrifice. She knew this even as a child.”

“What a fascinating fellow. I’m so sorry that I did not know him,” Bartholomew said.

“But what does it mean?” Katie asked.

“It means that he was the rare fellow who respected all beliefs, no matter his own. Glorious, really. What a fine man,” Bartholomew said.

Kelsey shook her head. “Keep looking for more notes. If that’s the last, he was trying to tell me something—I just have to figure out what it is. Oh! I forgot. Liam
wants us to meet him at O’Hara’s,” she said. “Jaden got a copy of the book that was missing from the library.”

“Intriguing. Let’s go,” Katie said.

Kelsey picked up the book in front of Bartholomew. “I’m not leaving this anywhere,” she said.

“Good idea,” Katie said, nodding sagely. “Give me a minute just to finish this shelf—then I’ll know where I am when we start up again.”

“Okay. I want to run upstairs and just wash my face quickly, too, if that’s all right,” Kelsey said. “Dust in my eyes. I’ll be right back down.”

She headed out of the study and across the living room, but paused there. She took a good look around. There were still boxes and crates to be gone through, but she had the strange feeling that whoever had gotten into the house when Cutter died had already gone through them. After his death, Liam had caught kids in the house, and then Gary White and Chris Vargas.

But who else might have gotten in before the locks were changed?

And why was she too afraid to leave her own door unlocked at night?

She did a circle as she stood there, noting the mummy. The large outer sarcophagus stood with the head end against the wall to the right of the fireplace; the open inner coffin was braced against it, and the mummy, still completely wrapped, lay within the inner coffin. To the other side of the fireplace was the voodoo altar. She kept turning. The giant gargoyle looked at her benignly. Gargoyles kept away evil spirits, she reminded herself.
She liked the gargoyle. She’d called it Harry when she’d been a kid.

The animal heads looked down mournfully from the wall. The medieval suit of armor, standing near the staircase, stared blankly at her.

As she stood there, her cell phone started ringing again. Absently, she pulled it out and answered it, thinking it must be Liam to tell her something he had forgotten.

“Hello?”

Once again, she heard the breathing.

Impatiently, she hung up and started for the stairs.

In her room, she washed her face, felt a lot fresher and started back down again. As she did so, the phone started to ring.

She glanced at it. The caller ID once again said Private Number.

Irritated, she answered it. “What?”

She expected the breathing.

She didn’t get breathing.

A man’s voice, a whisper, spoke to her.

“I’m watching you. I’m watching your every move,” the voice said.

She felt as if the hair rose on her flesh, as if she were frozen in place. The voice sounded detached, and it sounded close. It was rough and husky, and menacing. It seemed to creep right into her body.

She fought the fear.

“Good for you, buddy,” she said and hung up.

She met Katie and Bartholomew in the living room.

“What’s wrong?” Katie asked her.

“Nothing—obscene phone call,” Kelsey said.

“Probably a prank, but let Liam know,” Katie advised her. “I hate that!”

She nodded, and they headed out. She carefully punched in the code for the alarm. As they walked down the porch steps, she suddenly paused.

“What?” Katie asked.

“I want to run around back to the docks for a minute. See if Captain Morgan is there. He may not understand, but I want to thank him. For Avery! Avery is convinced that the dolphin saved him,” Kelsey said.

“Sure,” Katie agreed.

Dusk was coming, and it was beautiful out. The colors of the sky were pastels, except where the sun sank in the west in a fiery ball that shot out streamers of gold.

When they came around the house, the docks, the trees—even the mangrove area where Gary White’s body had been found seemed mysterious and beautiful.

Katie and Kelsey walked down the dock. Bartholomew remained on shore, arms crossed, as if he guarded the dock.

“I don’t see Captain Morgan,” Kelsey said.

“I don’t, either,” Katie agreed.

Just as they spoke, water and air spurted from the surface just below them at the right edge of the dock. Kelsey went down on her knees.

The dolphin was there. He looked at her with dark eyes that gave away nothing.

“Captain Morgan, my friend. You are a marvelous creature. My friend thinks that you saved his life, and I hear it’s quite possible. Thank you,” Kelsey said.

“Hi, there, big fellow,” Katie said, hunkering down by her.

The dolphin let out shrill squeaking noises, and backed away, flapping its flippers.

“I think he’s answering us,” Katie said.

“Maybe. He does work with humans,” Kelsey said.

“It’s getting dark soon,” Bartholomew snapped from the beach end of the dock. “Let’s go.”

“Good night, Captain Morgan!” Kelsey called, and she and Katie turned and walked toward Bar tholomew.

As they started around the house to the road off the peninsula, Kelsey’s phone started to ring. She saw that it said Private Number, and she ignored it.

They had reached Front Street when her phone rang again. She was certain it was going to say Private Number.

It didn’t. It had a local phone exchange, 305.

She answered.

She heard breathing, laughter and the throaty whisper.

“Don’t get wet, Kelsey. Remember, I’m watching you.”

She didn’t have a chance to reply.

The line went dead.

Liam headed from Stock Island back to the station. The sketch artist was going to scan his drawing into his computer that night, and tomorrow they could play with the image, taking away hair, trying to remove anything that might have been costume or artificial.

Checking on the fingerprints, he found out that there
was only one set on the magic box with the floating silk forms Kelsey had given him.

The prints were hers. They were in the system because her parents had believed in fingerprinting children, should they tragically be kidnapped or find themselves lost.

“It was wiped clean,” the tech told Liam. “There are smudges, so I know that it was wiped down, and wiped well. If someone is pulling apart that house when no one knows it, that someone is wearing gloves.”

Liam wasn’t surprised.

He left the station, eager then to meet Jaden, Ted, Katie and Kelsey. He was anxious to see the book.

When he walked in, O’Hara’s was quiet. He didn’t see the others at first; Jamie was behind the bar, and he directed Liam out to the back patio.

Clarinda was there, working her evening shift as a server. She was seated with the others, taking a break, so it seemed.

Jonas wasn’t with her, he noted.

“Hey, all,” he said.

“Hey!” Kelsey said, rising to greet him.

He wanted to reach for her, enclose her in his arms and just hold on to her. He hated being away from her, and it hadn’t even been a full night.

He kissed her lightly on the lips, longing to linger and bask in the scent of her skin and her hair but aware of their audience. He crawled onto the bench by her side.

Bartholomew was there, seated at the far end of the table. Through some of the foliage, he had a view of Duval Street. He seemed to be brooding.

And watching.

“Voilà!” Jaden said, producing a copy of the book.
“Key West, Satanism, Peter Edwards, and the Abel and Aleister Crowley Connection!”

He took it from her. “Thank you, Jaden. Have you looked at it?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Well, yes, sorry, of course. Page two hundred twenty. You’ll love it.”

“Read it aloud,” Kelsey told him. “We just got here. We haven’t had a chance to get into it yet.”

He did so.

“In his golden years, Pete Edwards rued his sins, and made public much of what he had done. He said that he’d never committed murder, but that he had relied on rites learned from a Santeria priest on an excursion in the islands, and from a voodoo priestess in New Orleans. While neither religion worshipped Satan, voodoo practitioners were known for communication with unhappy spirits, and Santeria also recognized malignant beings in the underworld. He concocted his own formula, partially drawn from his affection for Dante’s
Inferno
as well—drawing a pentagram on the beach and placing lanterns at each point. Animal sacrifice was carried out in the center of the pentagram. Though he sought the help of Satan, it was for a godly reason, Pete Edwards believed. The South claimed the war was fought over state’s rights, but in Pete’s eyes, the Confederacy stood for slavery and nothing else. He was doing God’s work through the devil to end the war. In the end, he turned back to God, the Christian God, and did penance. The man calling himself Abel Crowley came to Key West at a
time when Pete was trying to atone. Crowley had heard about Pete’s exploits during the war, but was of the belief that Pete had downplayed his role. He was convinced that Pete’s mumbo jumbo of Satanism, voodoo and Santeria demanded blood, and that there was an incredible power in worshipping dark forces. From eyewitness accounts, it’s suspected that Abel Crowley was a magician and a hypnotist; he could use mind control to force what he desired.”

“Sick people,” Clarinda noted.

“Very, but it’s interesting to realize that people don’t really change, don’t you think?” Ted asked.

“Yes, but…,” Kelsey began.

“But what?” Liam asked her.