Heather Graham - Ghost Shadow

Then he picked it up; it floated in the air.

He let it fall with a heavy thud.

Sean leapt out of his chair, staring. He looked at Katie, then at the book. Naturally, he picked up the book, searching it for wires.

“I told you,” Katie said, “I am good friends with this fine fellow, Bartholomew.”

Sean set down the book. “Katie… Look, whatever this was, whatever you see…hear, you still have to keep it quiet. Do you understand? A man like David will think you’re crazy.”

“I didn’t think that you were happy about David to begin with,” Katie said.

“David was my friend. An all-right guy. But he’s bitter, tainted. Life hit him hard, and now he’s back, and there’s been another murder. It’s almost like someone is trying to frame him-or he is a murderer and brilliant and I’ll have to shoot myself when I haven’t saved you from him.”

“He’s not a murderer.”

“And how do you know that for a fact?”

“Because he was sleeping with me when the last murder was committed.”

Sean groaned. “Oh, good God, I don’t want details.”

“You asked!”

“All right, then. Here’s the truth of it. He’s gone off and gotten rich on his own, and pretty damned famous and respected in his field, as well. He isn’t going to stay here. He hates Key West. He’s going to care for you-and leave you.”

“When he leaves, I’ll be glad of the time we shared,” Katie said stubbornly.

Sean looked around the room. “Bartholomew, talk some sense into her.”

Sean started for the stairs.

“Sean,” Katie said.

“What?” he turned to look at her, a hand on the banister.

“Danny Zigler is dead.”

Sean let out a long, low groan. “Do you happen to know who killed him? I mean, does he happen to know who killed him? Or where he is, for that matter?”

She shook her head. “He-he doesn’t really know how to be a ghost yet.”

Sean just continued up the stairs.

Katie sat back down at the table. Bartholomew perched on the edge of the table again, grinning. “Actually, your brother is not wretched. After all, he’s an O’Hara. They usually knew how to drink, and how to fight-and all in all, remain honest men!”

David was glad of the phone call when it came. He’d been reading computer screens for so long, his eyes were blurring. He was going to find the truth. Where Mike Sanderson had been and when.

Thanks to Liam-and the fact that everyone knew Pete tolerated him, and he’d gone to school with half the force-he was able to hang around the station and make use of it.

“David, it’s Sean.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.” Sean hesitated a minute. “I just wanted to check in. Any word on Danny? Katie is really worried about him. She thinks he might be dead.”

David was quiet a minute. “I think he might be dead, too. I don’t think he could have been the killer. I think Pete does, though. He’s been out most of the day, hunting for Danny. I’m not sure if he thinks Danny was guilty, or if he’s angry that he’s disappeared. Or if he’s worried. He’s getting a search warrant for Danny’s place, and he’s going to serve it himself.”

“All right, well…I’ve known Danny a long time and I was just thinking about him.”

“Thanks.”

When he hung up, David stood and stretched. He closed the files and glanced at his watch. It was eight o’clock, and he was getting hungry. He thought about stopping for takeout, but decided that though he could call, he’d just walk back to Katie’s house and find out what she wanted to do for dinner.

What they wanted to do. Her brother was home now. Sean would be included.

He stuck his head into Pete’s office, where Liam was still working. “Do you ever go home?” he asked his cousin.

Liam looked at him bleakly. “I want to be on the street. Can’t-not with Pete out. Sure, I get to go home. I usually have it pretty easy. But, sweet Mother Mary, this is just not good. Fantasy Fest-in the midst of all this.” He sat back and tapped a pencil on the desk. “Mike Sanderson is back out there now, and Tanya’s brother is out on the street, as well. No one seems to care too much about Stella Martin, other than her friend Morgana. She’ll wind up in a pauper’s grave.”

“Did you follow through on the location where I found the charge card?”

“I did. Couldn’t find anything else. Here’s what’s sad, really sad. This guy is good. He doesn’t leave evidence. He leaves the bodies in an exposed place-seriously exposed. They’re posed almost as if he’s fooling around, as if he’s using the most bizarre local story. I talked to one of our police behavioral profilers today. He’s convinced that the killer has to be local and uses the scenarios to prove that he’s local, that this is his place.”

“Great.”

“I’m hoping we find something soon. Before he strikes again.”

“Me, too,” David said. “Well, thanks for letting me pry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Katie goes back to work,” Liam said.

“I’ll be there. Oh, and Sean got home today.”

“He did?” Liam seemed surprised.

“Yeah. Katie knew he was coming. She didn’t know exactly when,” he said dryly, remembering how Sean O’Hara had come upon them.

“I didn’t think he was expected for another few weeks,” Liam said.

“What’s wrong with him being home?” David asked.

“Nothing. I was just thinking that it is all so odd. You’re back. Sam Barnard is here. Mike Sanderson has apparently been coming back for years, and now…Sean O’Hara, too.”

“Maybe it’s the tides,” David said.

“It’s odd. That’s all-it’s odd. Hey,” Liam said, changing the subject. “If I don’t hear from you during the day, I’ll see you at O’Hara’s tomorrow night.”

“It’s Fantasy Fest starting up,” David said.

Liam nodded, and let his head fall to the desk.

David left then, deciding to walk home and see what was going on. There were throngs on the sidewalks everywhere. Music blared from the clubs. He passed the giant effigy of Robert the Doll. It appeared to be anchored at the feet by a large weight, covered by plastic.

A woman walked by him, snorting. “It smells almost as bad as Bourbon Street!” she told her companions.

It did smell, David thought. He paused for a moment. It wasn’t bad booze, it wasn’t vomit. There was something dead somewhere. The Keys weren’t immune to rats, and Lord knew, there were roosters everywhere. He couldn’t pinpoint the odor; there was too much perfume in the air, too much smoke from the fellows hanging outside with cigars, and too much alcohol. Someone had just broken a bottle of bourbon somewhere nearby.

He kept walking. He was outside O’Hara’s when he suddenly heard shouting. Frowning, even though he knew Katie wasn’t working, he felt his heart pound. He rushed in. Clarinda was there; she had just jumped back from a table because the two men who had been seated at it were now standing.

“Fellows, you’re going to have to sit, calm down or take it outside or I will call the police!” Clarinda said.

They didn’t hear her.

One of the men was Mike Sanderson.

The other was Sam Barnard.

“Hey!” David said with deep authority.

The busboys were backing up. Jon Merrillo was coming around the bar nervously.

“Hey, you heard Clarinda,” David said.

Sam looked at him, and shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, but screw this!” he said. And he turned on Mike Sanderson with a wicked right hook.

David dove in, shouting for Clarinda to call the police. He tackled Sam Barnard down while Mike Sanderson made it back to his feet. Sanderson then tried to punch Barnard, but all he managed to do was fall on the man’s abdomen.