The Ghost and Katie Coyle

by Anne Kelleher

  “Is he, now?”

  “Yes. He seems to believe he has the answer to the mystery.” She heard the swift intake of his breath.

  “How so?”

  “I—well, to tell you the truth, I haven’t asked. But if you’re interested, I’ll get his phone number for you, and you can call if you like. I’m sure Alistair would love to discuss his pet theory. Most academics do, you know.” She shuddered inwardly at the thought of asking Alistair for his phone number.

  “Ah, well,” Derry shuffled his feet. She could see goose bumps rising on his arms. “That’s very kind of you, but—”

  “It’s no bother at all, really.”

  Derry raised his head and smiled at her, and once again she was unnerved by the thought that he somehow knew what she was thinking.

  “Well, now, I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t you bring this professor friend right here? I can ask him myself.” His blue eyes glinted in the light. She noticed how they crinkled at the comers when he smiled, and suddenly she felt as if they understood each other very well.

  “That sounds like a plan,” she said. She shivered a little as the wind blew harder across the beach. “It’s getting colder and you don’t have a jacket. I should let you go.”

  “I should let you go,” he said. “Classes start tomorrow.”

  “Why, yes. How did you know?”

  “Mary must have mentioned it.”

  She extended her hand, and he reached for it. His palm was cool and dry and smooth against her own, and a little tingle seemed to reverberate up her arm. “Good night, Derry.”

  “Good night, Katie Coyle.”

  “Will you be all right? You don’t have a flashlight?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She hesitated, then turned away. At the edge of the forest she turned back to wave good-bye, and stopped short in disbelief. There was no sign of the man she’d been talking to for the last fifteen or twenty minutes. He’d disappeared as completely as if he were made of smoke.

  • • •

  Water crashed over the chained men, frothing over the splintering planks of the floor. The ship heaved and shook. Wind roared. The lone lantern swung violently from a hook in the ceiling, casting its eerie flicker over the rows of prisoners. The men screamed and cried for mercy, but Katie knew, with the curious detachment of dreams, that there was no mercy, that anyone who could’ve saved them was much too busy trying to save himself.

  The sides of the hold creaked against the strain of the wild sea, and the ship tilted and spun. Frantically, Katie tried to do something, anything, to help the prisoners, who screamed even louder, cursing and praying. But this dream was the kind that was like a movie, where all she could do was watch and listen.

  There was a tremendous crack, and the entire hold broke apart. The sea rushed in, and a huge rock rose in the center of what had been the hold. Men smashed against it, whirling in the vortex of water, helpless as rag dolls.

  Katie felt the icy shock of the cold water, and she struggled to breathe. She, too, was suddenly trapped in the swirling tide, but then another wave caught her up in its relentless grip and threw her clear of the wreckage of the ship. She paddled frantically. The night was dark, and she could barely make out the jagged outlines of a rock as the water lifted her up. She hit the rock and bounced away. Sand scraped her side, and she felt herself tossed as carelessly as a shell onto the beach.

  An icy wind cut through her wet clothes and she shivered, gasping for breath. She tried to rise, but another wave knocked her flat. She breathed in a mouthful of water, and struggled once more to sit up, choking.

  “Help me,” she managed to gasp. A dark shape loomed above her and she reached up, grasping desperately at what she hoped was a human hand. “Help me,” she cried again as a warm hand closed around hers, the grip strong and sure. “Help me!”

  “I’m here to help you, Katie Coyle,” said Derry, his eyes bright in the moonlight, his tattered clothes dripping wet, his wrists manacled with a heavy chain.

  It swung and glittered in the moonlight as he lifted her out of the water. “Why are you here, Derry?” she asked, as he cradled her close. Warmth emanated from his body to hers, and the waves receded to nothing more than a frothy swirl around his bare feet.

  “To save you,” he replied. “From something you were never meant to see.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Alistair!” Katie stared in astonishment at the man who stood just outside the screen door. The morning sun glinted on his earring.

  “I happened to be in the neighborhood,” he said, grinning at her as though certain of his welcome. “Thought I’d stop by and say hello. Seemed to be the neighborly thing to do,” he finished in a mock eastern Massachusetts drawl.

  “That’s so nice of you.” Katie swallowed hard. She glanced over her shoulder. Books and papers were scattered all over the living room floor in carefully organized heaps. She’d worked long into the night on her paper.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

  “Of course.” She pushed open the screen door and stood aside to let him enter. “Looks like a hurricane went through this place.” He stopped just inside the door, glancing around.

  “Well,” she began, and then paused. What did she care what he thought? “You know what academic organization is like.” She beckoned. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  He followed her into the kitchen, carefully stepping over the heaps of books.

  “Cream or sugar?”

  “Nah.” He cupped the mug in both hands and leaned against the table. Katie poured herself a cup, more to occupy her hands than because she really wanted one. “This really is quite a place,” he said, gazing out the window.

  “Would you like to see more? Come on.” Katie was halfway across the living room before he had a chance to answer. “Let’s take a walk.”

  “Oh, sure.” He loped after her, setting the mug down on the windowsill as he followed her out the door. “How’d your first day of classes go yesterday?”

  “Quite well.” She followed the path around the upper pond.

  “I knew you’d be home,” he said. “I checked your schedule.”

  “Ah.” She could think of no other polite way to respond. It really wasn’t such an awful thing, she supposed. There was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. “Well, actually, I’m glad you did stop by.”

  “Oh?” He smiled into her eyes and inwardly she cringed.

  “Yes, I was planning on dropping you a note or giving you a call. I’ve met someone who’s very interested in your Clancy topic.”

  “Who?” The hostility in his voice made her pause in midstep and stare up at him.

  “An Irishman, actually,” Katie replied slowly, wondering why he was practically glaring at her. “He happens to come from Kilmartin. He was asking me what I knew about the Missing Earl and I told him as much as I could. But I figured you were the one he should really talk to, you know? And to think I was going to ask him what he knew about it.”

  Alistair looked at her even more intensely. “Just who is this fellow?”

  “Just a friend,” she replied. “Why?”

  “Someone you know here?”

  “He’s here, but not at the university.” She shot Alistair a quick look. He was staring at her with a furrow between his eyes. “Oh, no, he’s not an academic, if that’s what you’re asking me. Not at all. Just someone who comes from Kilmartin and happens to be interested in his local history.”

  “And just how did you meet him?”

  Katie ignored the querulous quality in Alistair’s voice. “Poking around Pond House, actually. Well, not the house itself, you understand. In the woods. By that ring of stones—you know the ones I mean?” When Alistair nodded she continued. “It just so happens he owns the property where the originals are in Ireland.”

  “You don’t say?” Alistair was leaning back. “I happen to know for a fact that that prop
erty—the estate of the Earl of Kilmartin, Actually—was deeded to the Church of Ireland in 1805. It’s never been sold.”

  A chill went down Katie’s spine, and she glanced at Alistair, but before she had a chance to say anything, he pointed into the trees. “Is that someone over there in the woods?”

  Katie squinted at the direction in which he was pointing. “Why, yes, I think that’s Derry now.” She smiled up at Alistair, her mind racing. Had Derry deliberately misled her? Or had she simply misunderstood what he’d said? There was no reason she could think of for him to lie to her. “Let’s go say hello, shall we?”

  “Sure.” His terse tone of voice was less than agreeable.

  She broke through the trees, inexplicably happy that Derry had interrupted Alistair’s visit. “I told him everything I know—which, believe me, isn’t much. Anything past 1700 is a bit of a black hole to me, you know.” She knew she was chattering, but she didn’t care. Where in the world had Derry gotten to?

  “Ah, Katie, where exactly are we going?” Alistair was picking his way through the underbrush, the overhanging branches poking at his head.

  “The Stones are just up ahead. I bet that’s where we’ll meet him. He’s very interested in them.” Seems to spend all his time there, she thought suddenly.

  Abruptly the path ended in the clearing. Derry was squatting on his heels before the largest of the interior stones, making notes on a yellow pad of paper. He rose slowly to his feet when he saw Katie and Alistair. “Good morning.” He spoke directly to Katie, his blue eyes meeting hers, and she felt her heart skip a beat. The feeling of being rescued from last night’s dream returned, and for a moment, she wondered what it would feel like to rest her head in the hollow of his shoulder, to feel his arms around her, strong and warm and sure.

  She lowered her eyes and hoped she hadn’t blushed. “Hello, Derry. I—I hope we’re not disturbing you at your research, but this is the person I was telling you about. He’s writing a paper on the Missing Earl. He’s much more of an expert than I’ll ever be.”

  Derry’s gaze slid from her face to Alistair’s as a lazy grin spread across his face. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Katie Coyle.” He squared his shoulders and extended his hand toward Alistair. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. I’m Derry Riordan.”

  Alistair raised one eyebrow. The two men were clearly sizing one another up. “I’m Professor Proser. It’s nice to meet you, too.” The expression on his face said quite the opposite.

  “I’m sorry to barge in like this, Derry,” Katie said to cover the awkward silence. “But Alistair came by unexpectedly, and I thought you two might appreciate the chance to meet.”

  “I appreciate your thinking of me.” Derry’s eyes met hers once more. “I’m actually more interested in the Kilmartin family,” he said to Alistair. “Can you tell me what happened to the brother?”

  “Oh, he was shipped off to Australia and was never heard from again,” said Alistair with an airy wave. “And as for the Earl himself—well, he turned up on the Continent about ten years later. After having betrayed his brother to the English, he couldn’t very well stay in Ireland. He fled to Germany with a price on his head, and lived quietly in exile until his death in 1854.”

  An odd expression darkened Derry’s face. “Indeed?”

  “Very similar story to Bonnie Prince Charlie. You know who he was, of course?”

  “Of course,” answered Derry. His blue eyes were fixed on Alistair in an icy stare, and Katie almost shivered. “And may I ask you how you came to discover all this?”

  “Well, unfortunately, you can’t.” Alistair spread his hands. “That’s what I’ll be discussing in my paper. The revelation of the identity and the resolution to the mystery will score me a minor coup in academic circles.” He smiled unpleasantly. “I hope you understand I can’t yet really speak of it.”

  “Of course not.”

  “But if you have any other questions, let me give you my telephone number. I’ll be happy to talk to you at greater length another time. For now, I must be getting on my way.”

  “It was kind of you to take the time to come and find me,” Derry said.

  “My local number is 555-1066. Can’t get any easier to remember than that.” He laughed at his own joke. “Are you going to lead me out of this wilderness, Katie, or shall I stumble out on my own?”

  “Of course I’ll come with you.” She turned to face Derry. “Sorry to disturb you.”

  “You’ve never disturbed me, Katie Coyle.” There was a note of sadness, of tenderness, in his voice, which made her pause and meet his gaze once more.

  “I’ll see you again, Derry.” Alistair was already crashing back up the path.

  “Count on it.” Derry gave Katie another wry grin, and turned back to the stones.

  “What an unpleasant fellow,” said Alistair, as they emerged from beneath the trees. “He’s clearly pretending to be something he’s not.”

  “What on earth do you mean?” Katie stared up at him.

  “Come now, Katie. I didn’t think you’d be the type to be taken in by a pair of blue eyes. That accent is obviously phony. He’s no more Irish than I am. And what does he think he’s going to accomplish making notes of those markings? The originals have been analyzed again and again.”

  Katie bit her lip. There was definitely something odd about Derry, there was no doubt about that. For one thing, he’d been dressed in the same pair of shorts and T-shirt as the other night, only this time he’d been wearing a windbreaker that scarcely fit his broad shoulders. At least today he’d been wearing shoes. Shoes which, come to think of it, looked about three sizes too big.

  “There are lots of amateur historians, Alistair.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Oh, my, look at the time. I’m sorry, but I’m going to be late for an appointment if I don’t hurry.”

  “An appointment? With whom?”

  “I’ve arranged to look at some of the town records with Daphne Hughes. Her last words to me were ‘punctuality is the courtesy of kings.’ I don’t think she likes it when people are late.”

  After her dream last night, Katie was more determined than ever to try and find out all she could about the history of the property.

  “Thanks for the coffee and tour. I’ll have to stop by again.”

  “Oh, please do,” said Katie, doing her best to sound sincere. “Take care, now, Alistair. I’ll see you around campus.” She felt she should offer to walk him to his car, but it really was getting late. “Bye now.” With an inward sigh of relief, she watched him saunter across the lawn as if he owned the place.

  • • •

  Derry watched the two of them disappear through the trees. Even before the man had lied, there’d been something about him that set off every internal alarm Derry had ever had. It was the same as the one that had gone off the day Timothy had introduced him to the man who’d ultimately betrayed them both. He’d ignored it then, to his ultimate peril.

  He glanced down at the yellow pad of lined paper and the plastic blue pen Mary had left for him. At least it gave more credence to his ruse.

  It looked like the only way to tell Katie that Alistair was lying would be to tell her the truth. But was it entirely a lie? Perhaps Timothy had been forced to flee to the Continent, but the only price on his head would have been an English price. And he would never have left without Mary and their children—or had he? If that were true, something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. And everything Derry had sacrificed himself for had been for nothing.

  • • •

  The telephone was ringing as Katie entered the house. Inwardly she groaned and checked her watch. So much for being punctual. She picked up the receiver and was surprised to hear her sister’s voice. “Meggie! You win the Irish sweepstakes?”

  Her sister laughed shortly. “Don’t I wish. But I just had to call and tell you what I heard. Remember you were telling me about Alistair Proser? There’s a scandal brewing here—Mickey—you know, Tim
McKnight mentioned it to me last night. I couldn’t wait to call you.”

  “What’s going on?” Katie sank onto the couch. Daphne Hughes was just going to have to wait.

  “Oh, this could be big, Kate. I mean really big.”

  “Well, are you going to tell me, or are you going to make me guess?”

  “He’s been accused of fabricating evidence in his last book.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Katie sat back against the fuzzy afghan.

  “Oh, no, I’m not. Mickey didn’t know all the details, of course, and I’m not sure that anything is actually going to come of it. It’s all supposition at this point, and apparently the person who accused Alistair is a notorious troublemaker. But can you imagine?”

  “If it’s true? My God.” Katie stared out the window. The idea that someone with as many advantages as Alistair Proser would stoop to any kind of subterfuge seemed impossible to believe. “Well, what’s happening?”

  Meg made a little noise, and Katie knew she’d shrugged and shaken her head. “You know how slowly things move. I guess there will be an investigation if this guy Peterson gets his way. But we’re talking source documents, Katie. There might be hundreds of them. It might take a couple years just to sift through them all.”

  “Like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well.” Katie checked her watch again. “This is certainly an interesting piece of news.”

  “I thought you would think so. I didn’t think you’d heard about it.”

  “The thing of it is, though, that anyone who’s achieved as much as Alistair has as quickly as he has is bound to have made a few enemies along the way. This could all be a case of academic jealousy.”

  “Oh, without a doubt. But I’ll let you know if there’s going to be any formal inquiry. You know, Mickey isn’t exactly a fan of his, either.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” Katie rolled her eyes. “Listen, I hate to brush you off, but I’m late for an appointment. You take care, okay?”