Heather Graham - Ghost Shadow

They crawled in. Liam took the wheel and David sat in the front passenger’s side. “What were you two doing together to begin with?” David asked.

“Well, first it was friendly,” Mike said. “We started talking about Stella Martin-who was a whore, I mean, no doubt about it.”

“Tanya wasn’t a whore,” Sam said.

“God, no,” Mike said. “That was never what I meant. I was hung up on her, totally smitten. She was beautiful, man. So much spirit in her!”

David glanced over at Liam. The two had to be sober now, but it almost looked as if they were going to fall into a hug and sob together.

“So, let’s work the whole thing out,” David said.

Liam pulled the car over into the lot of a fishing-and-tackle store that had closed its doors for the weekend.

Mike and Sam looked at one another again.

“Mike, you were a liar. You told the cops you were up north the night that Tanya was murdered. You weren’t up north,” Sam said.

Mike looked out the window. “I was in Miami.”

“Can you prove it? We’ve managed to dredge up the information that you were in St. Augustine twenty-four hours after she was killed, but the night of the murder…” Liam said.

“Lord, do you know how long ago that was?” Mike asked. “But I can tell you where I was.”

“And what he was doing,” Sam said bitterly.

“What were you doing?” Liam asked sharply.

Mike let out a sigh. “I was with a prostitute.”

“A decade ago-that is going to be hard to prove,” Liam noted.

“You know her name?” David asked.

“Yeah-Tiffany.”

“You have a last name for her?” Liam asked.

“Tiffany-Number One?” Mike suggested. “Hell, that year, half the working girls in the country were named Tiffany.” He stiffened suddenly. “Look, I’m not the asshole I sound like, really. I told you, I didn’t believe that Tanya was going to come with me. She’d seen you again, David. I wasn’t old, I wasn’t mature-and I was lonely and hurt.”

“You cheated on her-with a whore,” Sam said morosely.

“I didn’t cheat. She was leaving me, and I knew it,” Mike said. He straightened suddenly. “Hey, maybe I can prove it! She was working for something called Elegant Escorts, and soon after, there was some kind of a sting operation on them. I did pay with a credit card.” He looked out the window again, embarrassed. “I didn’t help with the prosecution. I told them that I had just signed on for a massage and that nothing else happened. I was a kid. I lived at home. My mother would have killed me.”

David looked at Liam. Liam shrugged. “We can track it,” he said.

David stared at Mike.

Mike glared back at him. “Hey, you know what-you were the one in the hot seat, not me. I talked to her earlier. We know she was at O’Hara’s. I was home all night after that.”

“Something you can’t prove,” David pointed out. “Where were you that night, Sam?”

“She was my sister,” Sam said angrily. “And, hey, I’m sorry, the people who could vouch for me-like the people who could vouch for you-are dead. You are a prick, Beckett. She was my sister. And no one ever looked at me with accusation before.”

“There’s another dead woman,” David said.

“And you were suddenly back here, just like the two of us,” Sam pointed out.

“Actually, I’ve been back frequently,” Mike said.

“Right. Dressing up as Robert the Doll and lying to your wife,” David pointed out.

“Point is, I’ve been here before-and you and Sam have been gone forever,” Mike said.

“I live in Key Largo. Two-hour drive. If I’d wanted to kill someone again and set them up in a Key West exhibit, I could have done it at any time,” Sam pointed out.

Liam started the car up again. “I’ll be checking on your whereabouts the night Tanya was murdered, Mike. Procedure, you know.”

“Look, we believe one another,” Sam said. “You bastards need to find out who did kill my sister.”

Liam drove straight down Roosevelt to the police station. It was a long walk back to Old Town, but he made it evident that he was parking and going back into his office, and that was that.

Mike and Sam sat in the car for a minute, and then got out. “You heading back, Beckett?” Mike asked David.

“In a while.”

The two walked off, muttering to one another.

“That Beckett isn’t a cop-he’s a filmmaker or a cat photographer or whatever. And suspicious as hell, if anyone asks,” Mike said.

“Yeah, but, hey, he’s a Beckett. Damned Becketts still think they own the island,” Sam complained.

Liam, watching them, grinned. “So?”

“So, let’s see if we can check out Mike’s alibi. Then I’ll head on back in. I want to hang around O’Hara’s tonight. I figure things will start getting wild.”

David waited, mulling over the past, and the present, while Liam went through various conversations with Miami and Miami-Dade County law-enforcement groups.

Why did Danny have the Key West history books, and why had ten thousand dollars been slipped into one book?

Liam set his phone down, drawing David’s attention. “Mike Sanderson was telling the truth. A vice guy in Miami remembers the sting. There was a Tiffany, and when it all went to court, she vouched for Mike Sanderson’s statement-she had just given him a massage.”

Scratch another one off the list.

“Thanks, Liam,” he said.

“It’s a walk-you want a ride?”

“I’ll catch a cab,” David told him.

He called Katie on his way back and found out that she was at the house. He had himself dropped off at her address, and when he knocked, Sean let him in. “Good timing. We’re about to head out again. Katie is in the parlor.”

“Thanks,” David said. He looked at Sean, who was wearing a pirate’s bandana, a tricorn hat, striped pants and a black poet’s shirt.

Sean grimaced. “Uncle Jamie wants to support the pirates.”

“Great.”

He went into the parlor. Katie was perched on the love seat, his family ledger book in her hands. She didn’t even notice him as he entered.

He noticed her.

She wore pirate attire extremely well. It was definitely a look, and though she was completely covered, he thought that she’d rival any woman who was stark naked. Just the line of her throat and collarbone was visible, and the beautiful rise of rounded breasts. Her waist seemed minuscule, and her pirate boots added a touch of the wicked woman to her apparel.

He whistled.

She looked up, startled, nearly dropping the book.

“Hey,” she said. She looked at him curiously.

“I visited the jailbirds. Mike Sanderson has an absolute alibi for the night Tanya was killed.”

“Oh?”

“He was with an escort,” David said.

She was startled. “But, I thought…”

“He says that he was certain that he’d already been ditched-for me,” David told her.

She looked at him sympathetically, then rose, carefully putting the book down. “I need you to bring those books over tomorrow. It’s important, I think.”

“Why? I’m not arguing the point, but why are you so convinced?”

“I don’t know how to explain it to you.” She smiled. “The little ghost of an idea keeps coming to me. It keeps leading me back to the hanging tree.”

“The hanging tree?” David said.

“Your ancestor avenged a pirate, did you know that?” Katie asked. She jerked forward suddenly, just as if she had been pushed. “Privateer!” she said firmly.

Frowning, he said, “I know the story, of course. Some wretch named Smith managed to shift the blame for his own deed to another man. That man was hanged by a lynch mob. Later, the first Craig Beckett saw to it that Smith was hanged, as well. Katie, it was close to two hundred years ago. That’s one hell of a long time to bear a grudge.” He smiled. “You don’t think that Smith’s ghost is rising up to kill women and try to frame the Becketts, do you?”