Heather Graham - Ghost Shadow

Music was emitting from restaurants and bars already; a fire-eater was working a corner of Front Street.

Tanya managed to stay just ahead of Katie.

Bartholomew was following close behind her.

“She’s headed for the hanging tree,” he said.

“Why?” Katie murmured.

Bartholomew said, “I keep telling you, it has to have something to do with the past. It has something to do with me,” he said.

She turned to stare at him, crashed into a wolfman, righted herself, apologized and hurried on. “Wolfman-the guy is crazy! He’ll be sweating to death before tonight,” she murmured.

They reached the saloon. It was busy. Katie saw Tanya slip in and she followed. There were no tables. There was one seat at the bar and she grabbed it, ordered a drink from a harried bartender and looked around.

“Imagine back,” Bartholomew said, standing right behind her and whispering in her ear. “When I died, the building wasn’t here. The area where you’re sitting was built in eighteen fifty-one. Morgue. Quite convenient. After one of the hurricanes, folks came back and found that the bodies weren’t in great shape. They ripped up the floorboards and buried them right here.”

“I know. There’s still a tombstone here,” Katie said.

“And bones in the ground,” Bartholomew said sadly.

“And the woman who haunts the bathroom,” Katie said. “But, Bartholomew-”

“You’ve got to go back before that. Military law-and no law. Evidence? What was evidence in a buccaneer town like Key West?” he asked bitterly.

“Did you see Smith hang?” Katie asked him.

He shook his head. “I had friends. I was buried on the beach. After the same hurricane, they dug me up with the others-and what pieces they discovered were transferred to the new cemetery-the Key West cemetery.”

She actually felt his hands on her shoulders. “Katie, it’s all attached, I just know it, somehow. You have to go through that book again.”

“Danny Zigler had checked out several books. They’re at David’s house. We’ll get them first thing in the morning, how’s that? Or, I’ll call David. I’ll ask him to get them before tonight, and then I’ll have them to read.”

“Is something wrong?” the bartender asked Katie, concerned despite the insanity of the bar. She had large brown eyes and a Romanian accent.

“I’m sorry, muttering to myself, practicing for tonight,” Katie told her.

Her cell phone was ringing. She saw that it was Clarinda. She answered quickly. “Sorry, I saw an old friend-from school,” she said quickly.

“Anyone I know?” Clarinda asked.

“College,” Katie lied, and winced. “Meet me on Duval and Front, okay?”

“I’m there, looking for you.”

“I’m there!” Katie promised.

Katie offered the bartender a bill and slipped off the bar stool.

She turned, and Tanya was there, staring straight at her. Her lips were moving. Katie froze, staring, and then inhaled, watching Tanya’s lips.

Then she could hear. Barely.

“Revenge. He whispered the word when he was behind me. Revenge.”

Tanya then stared at Bartholomew; her lips moved again, and she seemed distressed.

She faded, and was gone.

“See, she wants you to listen to me,” Bartholomew said. “That’s why she brought you here. Revenge! And she must somehow know or sense that it has to do with the past.”

Katie nodded. “Right. She’s gaining strength as a ghost.”

“And she just used it all, bringing you here, whispering.”

“I got it, I got it!” Katie assured him.

Her cell started ringing again. Clarinda!

She waved a thanks to the bartender and hurried out. It was all crazy. Two women were dead, dressed up and laid out like a twentieth-century corpse. And yet Tanya had come here, and Bartholomew insisted that it all went back to something that had occurred before the buildings here even existed.

She saw Clarinda on the street, waved and blocked her mouth with her hand as she told Bartholomew, “Please, please, please! Don’t make me keep talking, okay?”

He didn’t reply. He was silent as they met Clarinda.

“Let’s head back to O’Hara’s, and I’ll get the car and we’ll bring it back later. We’ve only got an hour or so, but I’d like to take a shower before tonight. I feel like I’m covered in bangers and grits,” Katie said.

“Ah, and I have a fine sheen of maple syrup,” Clarinda said. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

As they walked along, Katie thought that she might tease and mock, but she loved Fantasy Fest. So many of the costumes were amazing. They passed by a fellow dressed up as a parrot; he had magnificent feathers, body paint-and the subtle decency to wear a brilliantly fashioned loincloth. It was a beautiful costume-fitting right in with the fellow’s Mohawk-and both Katie and Clarinda gave him quick compliments as they passed.

As they neared O’Hara’s, Katie wrinkled her nose.

“Someone from the city has to get out here and find out what that smell is!” Clarinda said.

“We’ll have Jamie call it in,” Katie agreed.

They reached O’Hara’s. As they started in, Katie felt the brush of Bartholomew’s fingers on her shoulder.

She spun around.

And there was Danny Zigler. He was in the middle of the street, oblivious as cars and scooters and pedestrians passed him by, or walked right through him.

He lifted a beseeching hand to her.

Then faded into the crowd.

At the station, Liam told David that Mike Sanderson and Sam Barnard were being held at the detention center up in Stock Island.

“They’ll be let out soon. They were just being held for drunk and disorderly, and, well, the place’ll be filling up with pirates and vampires now,” Liam said.

“Can you find out if they’ve already been released?” David asked.

“Sure.”

Liam put through a call. The two would be released within the hour.

“I hope I can make it in time,” David muttered.

“You can.” Liam stood. “We’ll take a patrol car.”

“I thought you were holding down the fort, with Dryer prowling the streets,” David said.

Liam shrugged. “We have more units. The lieutenant is good, but no one is on duty all the time. I’ll just tell the chief that I’m leaving, working the case.”

“Don’t get in trouble here-”

“The chief is a cool guy. He put in his hours-bike patrol, night shift, day shift. And we’re speaking with persons of interest in two murder cases, even if we haven’t a shred of evidence.”

Liam was gone less than a few minutes; a detective sergeant took over his place at the desk, which had apparently become the hot spot for the Stella Martin investigation.

The drive to Stock Island in the patrol car, even with mad traffic streaming into the city, took less than twenty minutes.

When they arrived, Sanderson and Barnard were already being released.

David and Liam stood at the exit, watching as the men procured their belongings and signed out. Sam saw them first, and stood still. Mike halted behind Sam.

“You came to pick us up?” Mike asked hopefully.

“Sure,” Liam said. “I’ve got a car just outside.”

“Look, it was a drunken bar brawl,” Mike said. “That’s all.”

“Over what?” David asked.

The two looked at one another sheepishly. “My sister,” Sam said at last.

Mike looked at David remorsefully. “I called her-a not nice name. I told him that if Tanya had ever been able to really make up her mind, she might still be alive.”

“Let’s take it outside,” David suggested.

The two followed David and Liam to the patrol car. They looked suspiciously at Liam. “You’re not under arrest-it’s a ride,” he said.