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?”
“Ghosts don’t really have that kind of strength,” she said.
“What? Katie, these murders are being committed by someone who is flesh and blood, whatever may have gone on in the past.”
“Of course,” she said. “But I do think that the key lies in the past.”
“Absolutely. I’ll get the books tomorrow-we’ll spend all the time before you have to go to work reading through them.”
She smiled and nodded, and then her smile faded. “Any word on Danny Zigler?”
“I thought that you believed that he was dead.”
“I know that he’s dead. I was wondering if they had found him.”
“How do you know for certain?” David asked her.
Sean came to the doorway. “She saw it in a dream. Come on, Katie, you don’t want to get started late tonight. The flaming temper of the Irish-American Jamie O’Hara is a terrible thing to behold.”
“Yep, let’s go,” Katie agreed, anxious to be out.
When they walked in, David found himself instantly welcomed by Jamie O’Hara-who had shirt and frock coat waiting for him. “Arrrrr!” Jamie said. “Pirate night! They’re closing the street off-there’s going to be a parade happening in a few minutes. Katie, the place is hopping. Start them off with something pirate-y, will you?”
“Sure-can I boot up the computer and set the microphones and the amps?” Katie asked.
“Arrrr!” Jamie said in good humor.
“Hey!” Sean nudged David. “Head on back and change into that pirate garb, my good fellow.”
David was about to protest; he didn’t. Why not? He wanted to blend into the crowd. He wanted to watch. Years had gone by now, and he had no intention of leaving until the whole thing was solved. He couldn’t explain it but he felt as if some pieces of the puzzle were coming together. He’d watch until, eventually, the killer made a mistake.
He headed back to the men’s restroom to change. The acoustics and sound system in the place were good. He could hear Katie, welcoming everyone to Key West, Fantasy Fest and O’Hara’s Pub. She pointed out her request slips and her songbooks, and said that anyone was welcome to ask her about a song not in the books, as well-some could be found on the computer. She opened the evening with a charming rendition of a Disney pirate song-one that every pirate in the place sang along with her.
He headed out, appropriately attired then in his huge blousy shirt, frock coat, swashbuckling hat-and Levi’s jeans and Nike sneakers. As he headed around the bar to the stage area, he saw that Katie had stopped singing.
The pirates in the place assumed it was their job to keep going, and they were all certainly rowdy enough-and drunk enough-to do so.
Katie set down her microphone-and headed out the door.
“Katie!” He shouted her name and went running after her.
She was out in the middle of the street. The parade had begun, and chanting pirates, wenches, fire-eaters, flag wavers, small floats-even costumed dogs-were marching along, and sidestepping Katie. There was a figure running north down Duval.
Someone dressed as Robert the Doll!
Katie was chasing him.
David chased Katie.
Suddenly she stopped, and stared across the street at oversize Robert the Doll. Held in spot by a weight at the bottom by the feet, the figure seemed to move back and forth.
The huge effigy remained. The costumed Robert the Doll had disappeared.
“Katie!” David cried.
She seemed completely oblivious to him.
He rushed after her, but he was captured by a pirate wench, and spun around the street.
As politely and firmly as he could, he extricated himself.
He turned around, seeking Katie. She was across the street, wrenching at the effigy.
“Katie!”
Suddenly, he knew.
He knew the smell in the street.
And he knew what was going to happen.
Katie was tugging with a vengeance at the straw arms of the effigy. He reached her just in time to wrest her away as one of the arms came free.
As straw spilled out onto the street…
The thing crumbled, falling apart around the bottom weight.
Exposing the decomposing corpse of Danny Zigler.
15
It took forever for the sounds of sirens to cut through the revelry of the crowd, or so it seemed. It seemed forever that Katie stood there, staring at Danny.
The stench that rose from him was horrible. Even when the dead heat of summer ebbed and fall began to arrive in South Florida, the sun was viciously hot. Encased in the effigy, Danny had been held in something like an oven.
When she had ripped up the effigy and he was exposed, the odor had risen like a miasma.
Katie imagined that the odor was actually what had finally alerted the revelers to the fact that there was something very serious, horrid and tragic going on. At first, people thought it was all part of a Key West game.
A game…
Key West loved her pirates.
She loved her ghost stories.
Her eccentrics…
She was a city that loved equality and fairness, a party, a good time, history, water and more.
This wasn’t customary.
Finally, though, the screams in the street became louder than the sounds of the sirens. The parade dispersed. Shopkeepers, innkeepers, costumed entertainers, bartenders-all came out to the streets, staring with horror. There was such a crowd that everyone had to whisper to everyone else, asking what had happened.
Uniformed officers on horseback were the first to arrive. The rescue vehicle was forced to park on a side road along with the detectives and crime-scene investigators.
Katie just stood, feeling it all, seeing all, sensing it all and feeling David’s supporting arms around her, for what seemed like forever.
Then Liam was there, the one to officially question her while they awaited Lieutenant Dryer’s arrival on the scene.
She heard snatches of conversation from the medical examiner and techs.
“Oh, Lord, he’s ripe!”
“Been in there at least a few days.”
“Must have been dead since he went missing.”
“Cause of death?”