by Ghost Night
Jay seemed earnest. It was just too bizarre—him being here, right after he had agreed to film in the direction Vanessa had petitioned.
Or maybe it wasn’t bizarre at all. Vanessa was here. Maybe she’d been elected to be the one to get under his skin and get it all going.
He stared at Vanessa. Obviously, she knew what he was thinking. Or she had known exactly what his thoughts might naturally be once Jay had shown up.
“I didn’t know Jay was coming in,” she said flatly.
“Sure,” he said.
“Hey, look, I just arrived with a tremendous amount of hope,” Jay said. “I went down like a lead balloon in all that, you have to realize.”
“Two—possibly three—people are dead,” Vanessa said sharply.
“Oh, of course! I mean, that’s the most important part of all this, the really tragic part,” Jay said. “And they deserve justice. And if Carlos is innocent and out there somewhere…alive, well, we owe the truth to him, too, right? And if he did murder poor Travis and Georgia, and he didn’t get swallowed up by the Bermuda Triangle, he deserves to go to prison. Or be executed. The whole thing screams for answers, don’t you agree?”
“Answers, yes,” Sean agreed. “Whether there’s a prayer in hell that a set of filmmakers could get the answers, I don’t know.”
“I’m good, I swear, ask Vanessa,” Jay said.
“Vanessa?” Sean asked politely.
“He’s good. He knows boats and he can dive,” she said, still not facing Sean. Her cheeks seemed flushed.
“I’ll take it all under consideration,” Sean said. “And, of course, discuss it with my partner.”
He started to rise.
“Please. Please consider me,” Jay said. He sounded humble. Sincere.
And desperate.
“I can’t tell you what it means to me. Honestly—yes, yes, other than the dead—this didn’t affect anyone as badly as me. I can’t tell you… I still spend my life wondering,” Jay said.
Sean shook his head. “There’s not even a real suggestion that we can find any answers,” he said.
“Please,” Jay repeated.
“I’ll discuss it with the others,” Sean said. He left then, aware that Vanessa’s eyes were following him as he walked across the room.
He hadn’t realized that Bartholomew had been behind him until he felt the pressure when the ghost bumped into him.
“Such a skeptic!” Bartholomew said.
“Sorry, I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like what?” Bartholomew demanded.
“I decide to go her way—and suddenly her old friend is here, asking for a job.”
“She didn’t know he was going to come here,” Bartholomew said.
“Are you sure?”
“She seems honest. I don’t think she knew.”
“Either that, or she was just hoping to use David and me as saps.”
“Ouch. There’s a chip on your shoulder, my friend. Wait—better call it a boulder.”
“I intend to be careful,” Sean said.
“So—what is there to be so careful about? I’d say that it’s natural. If you’d been involved in something like that and you heard that someone was doing anything that touched upon the mystery, wouldn’t you jump it on it like a starving tick on an Irish wolfhound?”
“A starving tick on an Irish wolfhound?” Sean repeated.
“I make my point—and if you tell me no, I’ll call you a liar of the worst kind.”
“All right, yes, I’d be after anything that could get me close again,” Sean admitted. He paused. His sister was singing an old Beatles number, giving all due honor to the Fab Four. He paused, clapping, and watching David clap, watching the pleasure on his face. The world seemed so strange. David Beckett was seriously in love with Katie. It was nice. It was the kind of thing you had to admire—and envy.
He gave himself a mental shake. He’d had his share of relationships, most of which had ended decently, and he was long past the stage where he understood anyone who tried to hook up with a stranger in a bar purely for the purpose of sex. But somehow, looking at his sister and David, he felt a strange sense of emptiness he’d never known. He’d liked his life; come and go as you please, come and go anywhere in the world. Appreciate family and old friends, and look for new adventures. But now…
He took his stool back at the high-top table with David.
“So?” David asked.
“That is Jay Allen—the director of the movie that went so astray,” Sean explained.
“Ah, the plot thickens,” David said.
“He thinks it’s strange that Jay just appeared,” Bartholomew said, rolling his eyes. He jumped up suddenly.
“What? What is it?” Sean asked sharply.
“Lucinda lingers just outside. You’ll excuse me…?” Bartholomew asked.
“Why doesn’t Mistress Lucinda just come in?” Sean asked. “Damn, Bartholomew, the way you jumped up…I thought something had happened. Invite the lovely and ethereal Miss Lucy in.”
He shuddered. “Good God, she’d never!” he said.
“Wait—are you insulting my uncle’s establishment?” Sean teased.
“No, you’re forgetting that such an establishment as O’Hara’s didn’t really exist in my lady’s day. Quite frankly, there was a house of disrepute on this very corner back then, and it was certainly no place where Lucinda would come. That’s why she wanders so much. Of course, she knows that it’s not a house of prostitution now, but still…memories will linger.”
With a touch to his hat, he was gone. Sean watched him. Out on Duval, a rather staggered trail of tourists was wandering by. Oblivious to them, Bartholomew met his Lucy, his lady in white, in the street. He took both her hands in his own and looked down into her eyes, laughing at something she said. The tourists continued to move on by…smiling, chatting to one another, unaware of the tenderness that went on beneath their noses. One young woman paused and looked in their direction, and then smiled. The young man at her side paused as well, asking her what she saw, what made her smile, so it appeared. She shrugged and replied, stood on her toes and briefly kissed his lips, and then kept moving.
Sean saw Liam beyond the door. Like the young woman, he paused, as if sensing something there. But he didn’t see the ghostly duo. He shrugged and came on in. He took the seat Bartholomew had vacated.
Liam knew about Bartholomew. One night, they had tried to explain. Liam tried to believe them; he just couldn’t. He didn’t see Bartholomew, or hear his voice. He didn’t show his skepticism, but Sean knew it was there. Liam seemed to think they were victims of a shared hysterical hallucination, but he didn’t voice his thoughts or his doubts.
“How’s the hiring going?” Liam asked them both. Clarinda came by then, asking them what they’d like. Sean ordered a Guinness, wondering if the dark mellow tones would lighten his mood. Liam opted for one as well, musing that it sounded good when Sean ordered it.
“We met some folks who are possibilities. I’d take one Frazier Nivens over the six people we saw today, but he’s working,” Sean said.
“You’re doing all right though, really,” Liam argued. “You’ve got me and Katie—and Vanessa. David and you, and you’ll be fine with a few more people. I’m not great, but I’m a solid backup guy on the boat and I can hold an extension and boom arm when you’re recording on deck—good muscles for that. I did it enough for both of you when we were kids and recording backyard bands and some of our great oceanic discoveries like old work boots. And I can haul anything you need in the water.”
“Hey, Liam, we’re thrilled with you going. Hate the idea of you taking time off now, though,” David said. “It’s such a bad time.”
“You know you are always wanted,” Sean assured him. “And I’ve just had another applicant.”
“Someone in the bar?” Liam asked.
Sean indicated Vanessa Loren’s booth. “Jay Allen— Vanessa’s friend, and the director of the ill-fated f
ilm shoot.”
“Ah,” Liam said. “And what are you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” Sean said. “I’m irritated in a way—it’s kind of like Vanessa was sent in as a vanguard, and now he’s here.”
“Send in beauty, and then bring the beast?” Liam asked dryly.
“She pretends to be—or is—unaware that he planned on coming,” Sean said.
“And it may be the truth,” David told him.
“I don’t like the idea of being used,” Sean said.
“Liam, want to be in charge of another background check?” David asked his cousin.
Liam grinned. “Way ahead of you guys. I checked out everyone on that film crew. I even did cursory checks into the one or two day jobbers they took on in different locations, and the other four cast members. Jay Allen appears to be clean as a whistle. Got through school with excellent marks—and perfect attendance, for whatever that is worth. He’s never been arrested, pays his bills on time and works out of Palm Beach most of the time now—that’s where he has his office. He directed segments of a historical series set up in Virginia, chronicling the men in the Civil War. And he won an award for editing. He’s got good reports from every employer. They say that he is imaginative, dedicated and responsible.”
“And no corpses turned up anywhere else he worked, right?” Sean asked.
“No. The movie project collapsing caused him to fall into a steady decline, though, I’m afraid. He lost his personal savings, obviously—just like Vanessa,” Liam said.
“But she’s doing all right?” Sean asked.
“Yes—maybe because she wasn’t the director of the project. Who knows why certain people wind up suffering and others don’t?” Liam said.
“Okay, say we take on Jay Allen. It might not be a bad thing,” David said. “If we’ve agreed we’re following this trail, why not?”
“Give me a timetable, and I’ll get it all legit through the Bahamian authorities,” Liam said.
“I’ll set up a schedule tomorrow,” Sean said. “We’ll take Jay Allen on with us, mainly because I’d like to interview him when we get to Haunt Island but also because I’d like to have a lot of footage edited on a daily basis, seeing how we’re moving on. It will be great if it’s not something we have to do ourselves, since it’s so time-consuming. I’d like to start with Marty, dressed up in his pirate best, telling the tale of the Santa Geneva, Mad Miller, Kitty Cutlass and poor Dona Isabella. That will explain Vanessa’s script—and the quest we’re heading out on, to find the truth. Marty is a great character. He can also tell some of the pirate lore and history in general without becoming dry—or downright boring.”
“It sounds like a plan to me. Set it up,” David said.
Sean saw Vanessa and Jay stand; they headed together over to the table where Liam, David and Sean were sitting together. “David, Liam, this is Jay Allen. He and Sean just met. He’s applying for work on the project.”
Her voice was clear, but there was no emotion in it. She was angry and covering it up.
Jay offered his hand. The introduction was acknowledged.
“I’m heading on out for the evening. I hope you’ll consider me for your crew. I truly can never explain just how much this project means to me,” Jay said.
“We may find nothing. We may just rehash the same old, same old,” David said.
“I’d like to be aboard, just for my own peace of mind, retrace every step—and see if there wasn’t something of importance that we never gave to the police,” Jay said.
His words sounded reasonable, and they would certainly appeal to David.
“Well, like I said, I’m out of here,” Jay said. “I’m at Paradise Inn, and—” he paused to write a number on a cocktail napkin “—this is my cell number.”
“Plan on meeting us here tomorrow at one o’clock,” Sean said. “We’re going to do an interview with a friend who’s an expert in pirate lore and Key West history. I’m going to have you edit the footage and we’ll see what we get.”
Jay brightened and grabbed Sean’s hand, pumping it. “Great. Great. You won’t regret it, I swear. I can stand in as well, in almost any capacity. Whatever you need. Thank you. Thank you.” He looked around the table, animated, humble and grateful. “Thank you, thank you all.” He turned to Vanessa. “Nessa, want a walk back to your place?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “You’re south, I’m north. I’m fine. But thanks. I’m going to hang around a few more minutes,” she told him.
“Nothing is too far south or north around here, you know,” Jay said.
“I’m fine, really. Thanks.”
Jay nodded to her, and nodded toward the table again. He backed away. “My equipment or—”
“Ours, thanks,” Sean said.
Jay nearly knocked into a table as he left, still looking at them all the while, as if they would change their minds if he didn’t. Finally, he was out the door.
David had already risen to drag a chair over to their table for Vanessa.
When she sat, David said, “Well, this is interesting.”
She shook her head. “I had no idea he knew anything about this, or that he was anywhere nearby at the moment.”
“Right,” Sean murmured.
“So,” Liam said quickly, “you two are old friends?”
She nodded. “Micanopy is not a big place,” she said. “We went through twelve years of school together— I’ve known him since I was four or five. He is a good filmmaker, and he’s serious when he says that he’ll do anything, anything at all. That’s why our initial project had seemed so exciting. It was mainly our money, and we were willing to do what it took to get the movie made. And it is true, he’s excellent at editing. He has the instinct for it, which, in my mind, at least, is one of the hardest parts of any production. Slow, hard, tedious—and amazingly important to a final project. Honestly, I admit, I was angry that he suddenly showed up and wanted me to…introduce him to you all, but…he is good.”
She sounded so damned honest. Sean didn’t know why he still felt a strange twist inside. He wanted to trust her. Maybe he wanted to trust her too much.
She hadn’t left, Sean knew, because she had felt the need to talk to the three of them. Was she protesting too much?
“Would you like a drink?” David asked her.
She shook her head. “Thanks, no. I’m going to head out, too. I just wanted to…I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes, try to explain.”
“It’s fine. We’ll see what he’s worth on the project tomorrow,” David said.
“Do you want me to come, too?” Vanessa asked.
“No, that’s not necessary,” Sean said quickly. “You proved your ability today.” He stood. “I’ll walk you back,” he told her.
She smiled. “That’s not necessary. I’ve walked Duval alone a…a zillion times. I’ll be fine.”
“I wasn’t going to because it was necessary. I was going to walk you down because I wanted to,” Sean said.
“All right, then, sure. I’ll just say good-night to Katie.”
She walked to the stand. A man of about sixty was onstage. He was doing a damned good Sinatra imitation with his version of “Fly Me to the Moon.”
She kissed Katie on the cheek; Katie looked up and waved to Sean. She was smiling. He walked to the computer area himself and kissed his sister on the top of the head. “Tomorrow, kiddo,” he told her. “Ready?” he asked Vanessa.
She nodded.
They walked through the high-top tables in the karaoke area and said good-night to David and Liam. “Can you grab the tab?” Sean asked David.
“Got it. I’m not too worried—I know the owner,” David said.
Sean waved a hand and walked Vanessa out.
The south end of Duval was quiet as they walked along. Down by the inn where Vanessa was staying, there would still be activity at Sloppy Joe’s, Captain Tony’s, Rick’s, Irish Kevin’s and maybe a few more. It would probably be a mild crowd though.
On Friday and Saturday nights, it was a wild crowd. When any of the festivals was going on, anything went.
“I really didn’t know anything about Jay looking to join on,” Vanessa said.
“Yes. That’s what you’ve said. Several times.”
“But you don’t believe me,” she said flatly, turning her blue eyes on him. The woman really looked like a damned angel. Her hair was like a halo, blond, and bleached lighter by the sun. Not really an angel. She wasn’t delicate, he had learned that by watching her in action. She was really just about perfect. Too perfect. He felt jealous, though he barely knew her. He wanted to strangle Jay Allen because he seemed to be so close to her. He wanted to know if—in the years of their friendship—they had ever been intimate. Information he had no right to. He barely knew her.
He wanted her. She was gorgeous, she was sensual, she was lithe, athletic. He was imagining far too much about her.
That meant he had to stay the hell away.
“Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it just seems all too opportune,” he said. “But my partner agrees that it’s interesting, and we’ll see how Jay does tomorrow.”
“I should be there,” she said.
He shook his head. “Let’s see how he stands on his own, okay?”
“All right.”
They were coming closer to the northern end of Duval, where revelers were still out. Too many people for a real conversation. All seemed to be having fun—a few were inebriated.
“Watch out,” he murmured. A group, nicely dressed and not composed of teenagers, seemed to be having a bit of a problem navigating the streets. He thought a tall stout man was about to run into Vanessa. He took her hand and pulled her out of the way.
She laughed. “Thanks.”
“Here we are,” he said.
She nodded. “The stairway is up the back, through the garden gate.” She rummaged in a pocket for her key.
