Heather Graham - Ghost Shadow

Another favorite stop was an abandoned theater near Duval that was supposedly haunted by the souls of sixteen children who had burned to death there in the midst of a marital scandal-a spurned husband had meant to kill his wife, so people suspected. Instead, he had killed the children. Some of their little bones remained in St. Paul’s Church yard, where the children were still heard to sigh with the breeze on a quiet night. Visitors standing beneath the theater overhang heard the soft cries as well-and the scent of smoke was still on the air, all these long years later.

Artist House was on every tour. The Victorian mansion was stunning, of course, but the real draw was what happened in that house years ago. The story went that a servant of the owners of the house, the Otto family, had given their young son, Robert, a doll. The servant had come from the islands and practiced some kind of magic or voodoo.

Of course, since it was a hideous doll, many people had been convinced that the servant really hated the family. Robert stood about three feet tall, stuffed with straw, and wore a white sailor suit and hat. He had beady little eyes, and the kind of fabric face that was just creepy from the get-go. Having grown up with the story, David was truly amazed that someone in young Robert Eugene Otto’s life hadn’t gotten rid of the damned thing. Instead, the doll had stayed, Robert and his wife had been given the house and they had moved in. The doll spent years playing evil pranks.

But Robert loved the doll throughout his life. When his wife thought that he was preparing a nursery, it was really just a special room for Robert. Robert the Doll tormented Robert’s wife-slowly driving her crazy. Although many believed that it was Robert who abused her and blamed the attacks on Robert the Doll. She outlived her husband and left Artist House, but allowed it to be rented-with the stipulation that Robert the Doll’s room be kept and that he remain closed away in his special place.

Robert the Doll supposedly moved. He looked down at people on the sidewalk. He went from window to window.

Eventually, new owners took over-the doll was given to the East Martello Museum, and was still known, according to popular legend, to escape from his chamber. He was supposed to wreck film, or replace rolls of family film with pictures of himself.

Danny Zigler was an excellent guide and told all of these stories well. David could see the fear and awe he evoked in his listeners.

They walked toward the Beckett museum.

David thought that Danny told this particular story with relish, describing the dead Tanya with amazing detail. And though Danny never used his name, he suggested that someone prestigious had gotten away with murder, and that it had been a case of unrequited love.

Tanya, of course, according to Danny, roamed the now-defunct museum, crying out night after night, shrieking for justice.

David slipped away from the tour. He realized that his hands were clenched into fists at his side.

He’d be damned sure to stay away from Danny until he’d cooled down.

O’Hara’s was quieter than usual that night. Katie did a duet with Marty Jenkins to get it all started-a song from South Pacific, as Marty didn’t seem to care much for any song that didn’t have something to do with ships or the water-and then a soprano down from her job as a character in an Orlando theme-park musical came on and awed them all with a number from Chicago.

There weren’t nearly as many inebriated people as on a Saturday night, but there was a group of ten students with the soprano who didn’t have classes again until Tuesday, so Katie was kept busy. At eleven she decided that she needed a break, and she set the students up to do a six-minute version of “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

David seemed to have chosen his table at O’Hara’s; he was there with Liam, Sam Barnard and Pete Dryer.

“Katie, girl, lovely night, you keep it moving,” Pete applauded.

“It’s a nice crowd,” she said. “So how about you, Pete? Sunday a better day?”

“Sunday is usually a better day-except folks are moving in big-time now. Fantasy Fest is in the works,” he reminded her. “It officially starts next Friday.”

“Oh, right. It will be super-busy,” she said. She noted that David was barely listening to her; he was watching Danny Zigler.

He didn’t look happy.

“Anyway, I’m going to have a busy week no matter what,” Pete said. “I think I have a runaway stripper, and I’m pretty sure she’s the one who took off with that man’s wallet last night.”

Liam laughed. “A runaway stripper? Is there such a thing? I mean, a stripper is free to come and go as she chooses, right?”

“Unless she’s wanted by the law for being a pickpocket,” Pete said grimly.

“But did you see her?” Liam asked, frowning.

“No, I didn’t see her. But lately, we’ve only had one girl in trouble for helping herself to gents’ wallets, instead of waiting for the bills in the garter-or whatever,” Pete said.

“How do you know she’s missing?” David asked, suddenly turning his attention to Pete.

“She works at the Top-O-The-Top, and when I went to try to talk to her-warn her that I’m on to her at the least-she hadn’t shown up for work. One of the other girls told me that it was unusual. She likes money,” Pete said.

“Well, it is a Sunday night,” Sam commented. “Who knows? Maybe she heard about some better pickings up the islands.”

“If I don’t find her by tomorrow, I’ll put out an APB,” Pete said.

“Pete, can we prove anything?” Liam asked.

“I’ve got the kid’s report-hell, yes, I can put out an APB. Anyway, good night, all. I’m heading out,” Pete told them.

The college kids were having a good time, and they did so without being smashed or obnoxious. Katie kept the music going longer than she had intended.

Even so, David waited for her.

“You know,” she told him, “I’ve been walking myself home for a very long time.”

“Alone?” Bartholomew said.

She didn’t look his way, but she added, “Physically walking my mortal self.”

David seemed bemused by the comment. “But it is late and I am here. Do you mind?” he asked her.

“No. I’m glad.” She waved good-night to Clarinda.

“Zigler is gone,” David noted.

“I guess he took off early.”

“Started late, and took off early. Interesting,” David said.

“You’ve been looking at him with daggers in your eyes all night,” Katie commented.

“I followed his tour around tonight,” David said grimly.

“Oh.”

“After what I heard on his tour, I’d be scared of me,” he said.

“Danny is a good guy, though,” she said. “And I guess there’s no way to keep the tour guides from telling a story, especially if they can conjure a good ghost.”

“I wonder what he does with all his money,” David said.

“Well, he isn’t working jobs that set you in the upper stratosphere of income,” Katie pointed out.

“Still, he eats where he works, lives frugally… He must have some kind of a pastime.”

“Maybe he hides all his money in his mattress. Wasn’t there a crazy person who did that once?” Katie asked.

“Crazy. Umm. There have been a lot of crazies down here. It must be the sun,” David said.

They reached her house. He stood on the porch while she found her keys and fit one into the lock. The key turned and she looked at him. It seemed that she had no voice. She wanted to speak; she wanted to sound casual.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked. Oh, God, she sounded as if she was applying for a job as phone-sex girl.

He smiled and leaned against the door frame, not touching her, and yet looking at her in a way that made her feel as if he could send out rays of static heat.