by C. S. Poe
I heard feet pounding—a door—more feet—
“Aubrey!” Jun’s hands were on me, hoisting me up to a sitting position, but he had to hold me in place. “Aubrey, hey, come on. Wake up.”
I’m awake, just give me a second.
His hand touched my cheek, petting gently before it began roaming the rest of me.
Oh God, did Jun think I’d been hurt? Come on, get with the program, body!
“’M fine,” I slurred. I slowly opened my eyes and blinked.
Jun’s face was in front of mine. He knelt in the hallway, one hand holding my back and the other supporting my head. “Are you awake?”
“Cata—plexy. I’m awake.”
Jun knew the difference. He’d done his homework on narcolepsy years ago when we’d first met. But I guess in the dark and not knowing the circumstances of me on the floor, he could have suspected a number of things besides cataplexy.
Jun let go of my head when it stopped lolling back. He looked over his shoulder at Most Definitely Had to Be Dead Man, and then back at me. “What happened?”
“I dunno.” I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the lethargic feelings. “There was—I tripped over him,” I said, pointing at the body. “And then, I saw a ghost.”
“What?”
“It was Captain Smith.” My eyes widened and I grabbed Jun’s hands firmly. “I saw him! In the doorway to the children’s room!”
Jun looked over his shoulder at the doorway, but it was empty. “Stay here,” he ordered, getting to his feet.
“Wait, Jun! He—he killed this guy, don’t go in there!”
Could ghosts stab someone to death with an antique marlinespike? Maybe. I didn’t think there were any afterlife rules against it, anyway.
Jun ignored me, because duh. He used the flashlight on his cell to light the way to the bedroom. He looked around the corner, scanning the room with his light before going in. He came back out before I could struggle to my feet.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“It’s empty,” Jun confirmed. “You didn’t see where he went?”
I shook my head. “I collapsed. I was scared to death,” I said, sort of surprised to so freely admit that was the case.
Jun immediately joined my side once more to help me stand before giving me a tight hug. Warm, safe, strong. Could I just stay attached to him for a while? Like a remora on a shark? Not forever, just until I wasn’t shaking anymore.
“If it was a ghost, he could be anywhere,” I said.
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts?”
“It was Captain Smith!” I protested, looking up. “The clothes were historically accurate! The beard, the eye patch. Jun, I’ve spent two years dedicated to the man’s legacy—I know what he looks like!”
Jun nodded. “Okay. But the fact is, ghosts don’t kill.” He gently let go of me. A few passing cars outside caused dim lights to dance through the hall. I watched Jun press his fingers to the dead man’s neck. He tilted his head, studying the body and the pool of blood.
“He is… dead, yeah?” I asked.
“Yes. Did you touch him at all?”
“I didn’t see him. I didn’t turn the lights on. I just tripped over him. But that’s my marlinespike, I think.”
“I need to check the rest of the house,” Jun replied as he stood straight again.
I fiercely shook my head. “Don’t.”
Jun took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Stay here.”
He let go and then moved past me to check the master bedroom on the right before heading upstairs to the third floor. I listened to Jun’s steps as he walked overhead, searching the captain’s study and confirming the house was empty of any intruders.
“Someone’s been up here,” he called down to me.
“How can you tell?” I asked, not moving from my spot and nervously looking about the dark hall.
“The rope barriers in the study have been knocked down.”
“That’s where the marlinespike is kept!” I shouted back.
Even though Jun had confirmed the second floor was empty, that didn’t convince my heart to stop pounding away, and I briefly thought I was going to pass out all dramatically like a Southern belle. There had been a man—a ghost—Captain Smith.
So where had he gone? He could have ghost-poofed. I didn’t know what that actually meant, but ghosts, like… vanish and appear wherever they want, don’t they? Fuck.
Jun was walking back down the stairs. “We need to call the police.”
“Did you open a door?” I asked, looking up.
“Which door?”
“I remember a door,” I said, sort of distracted as I pulled the sound from my memory. When I screamed and collapsed, there had been running, and I thought it was Jun coming to my rescue, but then there’d been the sound of a door….
“I didn’t open anything.”
I took a step forward but halted at the body. No berth was wide enough. Another car drove by and lit up the pool of blood. There was so much. It was so dark, like a thick red wine.
The bruschetta was going to come back up.
Jun noticed, took my hand, and tugged me along, all but forcing me down the hallway and away from the stench of blood and death.
“Maybe I heard this,” I said. I made Jun stop at the stairs and pointed to the back balcony doors.
Jun pulled me to stand behind him and approached the door. He used his knuckles to press down on the handle, and the door easily swung open. “Should it be locked?”
“Yup.”
I grabbed the back of his shirt and peered around him. The balcony was empty, save for a lone rocking chair. During the day, it offered a gorgeous view of the garden, but at night there were only the spooky shapes of towering palm trees swaying in the cool air.
“Come on,” Jun said, his tone firm and not at all afraid. “Let’s go to the gift shop and phone the police.”
I SAT on the register counter, legs dangling over the side. I kept my head down and focused on a yoga breathing exercise—which was about as far into yoga as I’d ever gotten. The mat might be cushy, but a sleep attack in the middle of a downward-facing dog still hurt.
“Aubrey.”
I glanced up. Jun was holding out a coffee cup he must have found on my desk. “Hard liquor?” I asked.
His mouth quirked. “Water. You’re still pale.”
I murmured a thank-you and took the mug, realizing belatedly the rather erotic artwork it featured.
Jun leaned back against the counter beside me, crossing his arms. “Tako to ama.”
“Huh?”
He nodded at the mug. “That woodblock art. It’s called Tako to ama.”
I loved octopuses. Maybe that’s weird? I thought they were just the coolest sea creatures ever. I wished I could go scuba diving and see one under the waves, but—narcolepsy. Not safe. So I collected octopus-related items instead. And the mug in question depicted Japanese artwork from the 1800s—a young woman diver having a sexual encounter with two octopuses.
“You’re familiar with this?”
“Sure. Hokusai was a brilliant artist. He created The Great Wave.”
I turned the cup around absently. “I have to hide this whenever any of the board members come by for a visit.”
Jun turned his head, staring at the front door. “I suppose cunnilingus and cephalopods aren’t for everyone.”
I snorted and choked on a mouthful of water before spitting half of it out.
Jun laughed.
I smacked my chest several times, coughing after I managed to swallow what was left. “Don’t do that!”
He looked at me, smiled, and stroked my back gently. “Feel better?”
“No, but I’ll live.” I set the mug beside me. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Telling you to chill, when you turned out to be right. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
Jun put his hand on my neck and dragged his fingers throu
gh the ends of my hair. “I don’t want to be overbearing.” He met my gaze. “I care about you. And—” He sighed. “I’ve seen a lot. That’s all.”
“I get it.” And I’d be an ass if I didn’t cut Jun a bit of slack. He dealt day in and day out with people who murdered, kidnapped, smuggled drugs and other humans—I think he deserved to be protective, even if it annoyed me in the moment.
Two police cruisers rolled up to the gift shop, their blue and red lights illuminating the street and making the shop look like a rave party. Jun left me on the counter, unlocked the door, and greeted two uniformed officers and one in plain clothes. Big surprise, that was my buddy Tillman. At least Jun was still carrying his badge, which he promptly showed the officers, although he was quick to add he was on vacation and just happened to be here. Maybe Tillman would take this a bit more seriously if he thought a Fed would make some phone calls if they were unsatisfied.
I bet Jun would do it too. Sexy badass that he was.
“Agent Tanaka,” Tillman repeated. He squared his shoulders, but no matter how big he tried to appear, he still had to tilt his head to look up at Jun. “I responded to Mr. Grant’s call earlier today about a skeleton found on the property. So if that—”
“Island Security called me,” I said from where I still kept my ass parked. “About eight thirty. The motion detector on the first floor sent an alarm, so I came to turn it off.”
Jun nodded. “An intruder was found dead on the second floor. Aubrey says a second subject was seen, but escaped before they could be apprehended.”
I winced. A subject was seen, yes. But could a ghost be handcuffed? An hour ago I was a Negative Nancy on the idea of an afterlife, but I saw Captain fucking Smith! How else could that be explained but by the supernatural?
I hopped down from the counter and took a step before a powerful wave of exhaustion hit me. Oh Jesus. I needed a nap. Just a quick one.
I WOKE up on the floor.
Nothing new there. I couldn’t recall the number of different floors I’d napped on over the years.
“Are you awake?” Jun asked from somewhere nearby.
I sat up, nodded, and rubbed my eyes.
“He drops like a ragdoll,” an unfamiliar voice stated. One of the cops, I guessed.
“He’s narcoleptic,” Jun replied. He crouched at my side, taking my hand. “Want to stand?”
“Hmm, yeah.” I got to my feet with his help and looked around. Tillman and one of the other officers were gone. “How long was I sleeping?”
“A few minutes,” Jun answered. “Tillman and Officer Lane are checking the house.”
“I need to go over there.” I turned, but my knees went a bit Jell-O for a second, and I stumbled.
Jun grabbed me again before I could fall sideways into a display of stupid cup coasters. “You need to go to bed.”
“Okay, dad,” I scoffed. I waved Jun away when I noticed the remaining officer staring. I got stared at enough, and Jun babying me wouldn’t make it better. I tugged at my clothes, trying to put myself in order. “I can’t go until I know what’s happening. It’s my job.”
“Tillman asked that you folks wait here,” the remaining officer said.
I turned to glare at him. “And your name is?”
“Officer Barney.”
“Barney. I manage this property, and I need to be able to assure the nonprofit committee that keeps the doors open and my employees paid that there has been no damage to the house or any of its artifacts.”
“You can bring that up with Tillman, Mr. Grant.”
My left eyelid twitched. I looked up at Jun and whispered, “Pull jurisdiction.”
“What?”
I waved my hands at him. “Get all in their face with the FBI thing.”
“This doesn’t fall under any sort of FBI jurisdiction, Aubrey,” Jun said calmly. “Local police can handle this. Besides, did you want me working on our vacation?”
My shoulders slumped. “No,” I muttered. I walked to the window nearby and cupped my hands around my eyes while looking out. Every light in the house seemed to be on, and an ambulance was pulling up outside the gate. “I’m waiting in the garden for Tillman,” I said. I made a dash for the door that led outside and escaped before Barney could get the “—ant” part of my name out.
I ran down the winding path to the Smith Home, Chucks squishing and sliding on fallen sapodilla fruits. A few late-night tourists, likely in between bars, were watching the house curiously from the other side of the picket fence. Tillman was coming out of the front door to speak with the EMTs. I stopped running at the steps, not going up as he gave me a glare, like “I dare you, shrimp.” Although I glared back, hoping it came across as “Eat my shorts.”
I had to give it to Tillman. At least when he was handed a body, the man was quick to call in reinforcements. Before I knew it, the house was swarming with crime-scene photographers, more cops, and the county medical examiner, who was standing by to take the dead intruder away. Of course, that was frankly… awful for business, but at least it was late at night. And those around to see the mess of police cruisers were at least on the far side of not sober, so… maybe they’d forget any of this ever happened?
As if.
I was left sitting on the porch steps for a while, holding my head in my hands. Jun had, of course, followed me out and had been patiently waiting with me the entire time. He had his hand resting on the top of my head, absently combing his fingers through my hair. It was nice. Comforting. I liked how he didn’t hesitate with public affection.
“What time is it?” I finally murmured.
A pause. Then Jun said, “Quarter to eleven.”
I groaned and whined loudly. “I’m so tired!”
Jun stepped closer, feet against the bottom step so I could lean my forehead against his thigh. “When do you go to bed?”
“Ten.” Yes, I had a bedtime. My doctor recommended I keep a strict sleep schedule to ward off the daytime sleepiness.
“They look to be wrapping up,” Jun said. “We’ll go home soon.”
We’ll go home. I… liked how that sounded. And not just because I was ready to crash.
Jun prodded my shoulder as I was dozing against him, and I sat up straight, blinking. “What?”
“Tillman.”
I looked over my shoulder as said cop walked out the front door and across the porch. I got to my feet. “So?”
“Did you know the deceased?” Tillman asked in return, coming down the steps.
I shook my head. “No. I mean, I didn’t get a good look at his face because I never turned the lights on. I had a flashlight, but I was… sidetracked by the marlinespike in his chest.” Probably wasn’t the right time to mention that I fully expected to have the murder weapon back in the possession of the museum.
“How well did you know Lou Cassidy?”
“Cassidy?” I scrunched my face up and then pointed across the street. “The pirate museum guy?”
“That’s the one.”
“Holy shit, was that him?” I shouted.
“What was your relationship?” Tillman asked.
I shook my head. “I wasn’t aware I had a relationship with him. He worked at Key Pirates Museum. They’re across the street from us, a few doors down from the Custom House.”
“How often did he tour this home?”
“I don’t know… every few months he came by,” I said, thinking hard. “He’s one of the Conchs that insisted Smith was a pirate. Whenever he visited, he’d ask me about loaning some of our artifacts to them. He wanted to set up a display on Smith, portraying him as One-Eyed Jack.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him no,” I said firmly. “I told him that there’s no historical evidence to back up the belief that Smith was a pirate. By all accounts he was a prosperous wrecker and investor. He didn’t make his fortune in any devious way, so I absolutely wouldn’t loan my hard work and research to a museum that would paint him as a villain.”
“Did you ever argue about it?” Tillman asked.
“Argue?” I echoed.
Jun held up a hand. “I don’t appreciate where you’re directing this line of inquiry, Detective. I’ve been at Aubrey’s side all day. To insinuate this fellow’s death was at all due to him doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Just making sure I understand the situation, Agent Tanaka,” Tillman said in a clipped tone.
“Look,” I said, getting in between them, because if there was one person Tillman clearly disliked more than me, it was Jun. “Cassidy was a jerk about it. He insulted the work I’d done on the house, but—”
“Aubrey,” Jun said firmly.
“I didn’t hurt anyone,” I protested. “That’s insane to even suggest!” I looked up at Tillman. “What about a second person? The balcony door on the second floor was unlocked. Is there evidence someone else was here?”
“We’re still looking,” Tillman answered. “We’ll need access to your security footage.”
“Fine,” I said. “Take all of it. Be my guest. Can I go inside and check the antiques for damage? Jun said there appeared to be some kind of scuffle on the third floor. I need to—”
“When the house is no longer an active crime scene, you’ll be able to resume your work, Mr. Grant.”
“What? No, I need to go in now,” I insisted.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Tillman said with a tone of finality. “We’ll be sure to lock the place up. Good night.”
“What the fu—!”
“Aubrey,” Jun said, interrupting me from swearing at a cop who’d probably need that one tiny insult as an excuse to throw my ass in jail. He took my hand in his own and gave it a squeeze. “Come on.”
I WAS an angry little camper.
I fumed like a twelve-year-old brat the entire way back to my cottage and didn’t get out of the car when Jun parked and turned it off. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, holding his hand out for mine. I waited a good minute before shoving off the seat belt and climbing out.
Jun shut the front door after we got inside. “Let’s go to bed.”
