“One of the parties is happening,” David said. “I think it’s down on Mallory Square, but I’m not sure. It won’t be in full swing for a while.”
“And hopefully, we’ll be out of here by then,” Sean said, grinning.
“Hey, I think it’s great. They do reenactments and all kinds of cool historical stuff. Kids can come to it, and face it, Key West isn’t always kid-friendly,” Vanessa said.
“Excuse me—I was a kid here, and I came out just fine,” Sean said.
“I grew up here, too. So we stayed off Duval growing up,” David said. “We had the water. Boats, the sea, diving. What more could you ask?”
They reached Vanessa’s place. When Vanessa ran up to shower and change, Sean and David walked across the street to Irish Kevin’s. She would find them there when she was ready.
She showered and shampooed, and though she was in a hurry, she discovered that she was determined to be thorough. She shaved her legs, dried her hair with the blow-dryer and despite herself, opted for makeup. She chose a knit dress that was both casual and slinky, and though appalled at her choice, she went for heeled sandals.
Dressing up as if out on the hunt, she mocked herself.
It wasn’t her—it wasn’t the way she lived.
And yet, that night, it was.
Impatient at last, she gave her hair a last brush and hurried out. As she crossed the street, whistles followed her from the tiny bar next door. She blushed and was glad.
The two men were hanging at the entrance to Irish Kevin’s—the music could be heard clearly from there. The band was good, playing something from Three Dog Night that she hadn’t heard in years and years but sounded absolutely great.
“Shall we?” Sean said, seeing her.
David whistled. “What a transformation.”
She laughed. “Thank you.”
Sean cleared his throat. “Yes, you look great. But transformation? David, are you implying that she doesn’t look great wet, in sand, with ratty hair?”
“Not in the least. And I’d have never said ratty hair,” David protested.
“Hmm. You’re right. I do apologize!” Sean said.
She grinned. “Thank you both, I’m pretty sure. Should we go and see if Jay is still at your house?”
They agreed. She walked between the two of them as they traveled the short distance from Duval to the O’Hara house.
Vanessa remembered it well. She had stayed here with Katie many a time.
It hadn’t changed much, though Katie had added a few little touches that made it her own. There were new seascapes on the walls, light, new upholstery on the furniture that still seemed to fit the Victorian period of the house, and there was a new entertainment center with a flat-screen TV in the parlor. Walking into the house was comfortable. She’d spent good times there.
“You know my house?” Sean asked her.
“I spent a lot of nights here,” she said.
“Pity. And I never knew,” Sean murmured.
“Hey! You’re back!” Jay called from the rear of the house, once an open porch, then a screened porch, now a glassed-in family room.
They headed toward the sound of Jay’s voice.
The rear of the house had changed. It was all Sean O’Hara’s now, with several screens set up, a large computer, camera equipment here and there, microphones, booms and more. Jay was in a twirling office chair at the computer.
“Nessa, old gal, you’ve made it with the boys! I’m so glad. This is great stuff, great!” Jay said enthusiastically.
“He’s shy, never toots his own horn,” Vanessa said dryly.
“Let’s see it,” Sean said.
Jay hit a key that sent the film to the largest of the screens in the room. They moved around to perch on chairs to watch. As she took a seat on the divan by the back of the house, Vanessa felt a chill sweep through her and something almost like a gentle touch on her arm. She looked around, certain one of the men was near her. But Sean was perched on a stool and David had taken the wicker wingback chair to her far right. Neither was anywhere near her.
And Jay was at the computer chair still, arms crossed over his chest.
Vanessa had to admit that the footage was fantastic. Marty was an amazing subject and storyteller, and Jay had the editing just right. It ran approximately three minutes, with an extra twenty seconds of the old pirate historian playing his sea shanty. In all, it was fabulous footage.
“Well?” Jay demanded.
“You’re good,” Sean said.
“Yes, very good,” David agreed.
“Am I hired? Please?” Jay begged.
Sean was still staring at the screen, though it was dark. “Yes,” he said. “You’re hired.”
Jay let out a yelp of joy. He sprang from the chair and came to Vanessa, pulling her from her seat, swirling her around the room. “Thank God, thank God!”
She didn’t share his elation. She felt her cheeks redden, and she nodded.
Sean rose, ignoring the two of them. “This is what we got the other day,” he told David. He hit a few keys. Sean narrated what had been shot, and she knew that, beyond a doubt, she would watch the documentary even if she had nothing to do with it. His voice was a captivating tenor with the right inflection at every moment. There was footage she hadn’t even realized he had taken as she set her mask and slipped off the side of the boat. Her shots of the reef with the brilliant fish flashed by as he explained the wrecks and the delicacy of the reefs, along with the dangers they had, and still did, create. There was footage of her with the grouper as he talked about the wonder of the reef today—and then went into the sinking of the Santa Geneva as she was beset by pirates. He talked about the legend, about the film crew, and how they had chosen, in presenting unsolved mysteries, to focus on the legend of the Santa Geneva, Mad Miller, Kitty Cutlass and the sad plight of Dona Isabella. That legend had given rise to many others.”
“Wow. You did that just shooting with the two of you?” Jay said. “Hey, what am I talking about? I was doing a motion picture with a small crew that did extra duty as stunt doubles!”
“You’re a walking wonder, Jay,” Vanessa said, teasing him, and yet, she realized, her tone was dry. She was still angry with him. He shouldn’t have just shown up. He should have called her.
But then again, she had barged in. No, she had set up an appointment. Jay had used her.
“I am a walking wonder, Nessa,” Jay said, grinning. But then he sighed. “I just wish I knew what had happened.”
“All right,” Sean said. “Tomorrow, we’ll get together and go through everything you did from the time you came to Key West to start filming. Since this was planned as a documentary, there’s an outline and a list of shoots, but no actual script. Things will change now, some, but I don’t want to make the changes until you’ve given me your story from start to finish.”
Jay nodded gravely. “All right.”
“We might make another dive where the Santa Geneva went down, too,” he said.
“Hey, you’re the boss. Bosses,” Jay said, looking from Sean to David.
“What now?” Vanessa asked.
Sean smiled. “Dinner. No one has had any.”
“Oh, man, great idea. I’m starving,” Jay said.
David rose and said, “How about Turtle Kraals? Tourists are out, but it’s a guaranteed relaxed atmosphere and it’s on the water.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sean agreed.
They walked the back streets down to Turtle Kraals and the docks. The air was pleasantly cool and the walking was beautiful. She was next to Sean, who was somewhat quiet, while Jay walked next to David, talking enough for everyone.
“Beginning to end,” he said. “You know what I remember, clearer than anything? Just how annoyed I was with Georgia. If I’d only known…if we’d only looked for Travis. But we weren’t expecting anything. I’d been on Haunt Island dozens of times. Boaters come and go. And of course we did everything by the book, notifying the Bahamian authorities, even hiring Bahamian tour guides just to keep everything legit. And that on our budget. I still can’t figure it, I just can’t figure it. I didn’t see any other boats during the day. I know that most of the authorities believe that Carlos Roca killed Travis earlier in the day, and killed Georgia when he pretended he was going to take her home. Why? I can’t begin to fathom. And why stage the bodies in the way that he did? None of it makes any sense. You’d think there had been a ghost,” he said with disgust.
Then, oddly, he jumped and spun around.
“What the hell was that?” Jay demanded.
“We’re in front of you,” Vanessa reminded him.
“Must have been the wind,” Sean said, still walking and not looking back.
“That was one hell of a wind,” Jay said.
“Oh, we get those now and again down here,” David said.
They walked on and arrived at the restaurant. Sean knew the right people. He smiled and chatted with the hostess, and they wound up with a perfect table, one that overlooked the water of the historic seaport. It was a pleasant place, named for something not so pleasant, really. It was where turtles had once been stored until it was time for them to be sent to whatever restaurant or manufacturer or distributor of turtle soup and turtle steak was ready for them. Nowadays, turtles were protected, and the wildest events here that included the reptiles were the turtle races held on certain days of the week.
They ordered, and Vanessa excused herself, saying she wanted to look at the moon over the water. She walked out and realized someone was behind her. She turned to see that Sean had followed her. “Beautiful night,” he said. “Perfect weather. Calm seas and a full moon.”
“Yes, perfect,” she agreed.
There was a silence between them for a moment. It wasn’t awkward, and yet Vanessa knew he was about to say something. And he did.
“You know, there’s something underneath everything here. On the surface, what happened was a horrible, gruesome tragedy, a heinous crime. The kind that couldn’t be repeated. But now we’re about to go the same route. Have you ever wondered if the person—or persons—responsible might find out what you’re doing, be afraid that you know something and come after you?”