Ghost Shadow

Silently, he cursed Beckett. The man shouldn’t have come back. The past was the past; settled, over, accepted. Some believed it had been David Beckett, but that he was long gone and despicably above the law. Others believed that a psycho had come and was also long gone. It was over. It was part of the myth and legend of Key West.

He shouldn’t have come back.

But he had.

He had seen Katie O’Hara, seen her go in. He’d heard the squeak of her scream, but he hadn’t been alarmed. He’d held his ground. Watched. Waited.

Then, he’d seen her come out, and he’d stepped quickly back into the shadows. He hadn’t intended to be seen that night.

Katie had left in what appeared to be a fury.

She’d thought she owned the place. But Beckett was back.

A few minutes later, Beckett had come out, and he’d headed in the same direction but then turned down the street to the Beckett estate.

When Beckett was gone, he’d followed Katie. He knew where she lived. He’d walked, and stood in the shadows, and he’d looked at her house.

He stayed, feeling time go by. No need to be here, staring up at the house in the darkness.

But he stayed, watching.

His fingers itched.

He felt a bizarre fury growing inside of him.

And then he understood.

He felt the sudden temptation to let history repeat itself.

Chapter Three

There was no meeting at the bank.

Liam called her before eight.

Katie had set her alarm, but it wasn’t set to go off for another thirty minutes. She was only a few blocks away from the bank, and she was capable of showering and dressing in less than fifteen minutes—a nice survival technique if you worked nights and wanted to maintain any kind of a daytime existence.

She groaned while she fumbled for her phone. She only kept a cell, but it was sitting on the bedside table and, naturally, she knocked it off as she went to answer it. She had to feel around on the floor to find it and answer it.

It was Liam.

“Liam! I saw your cousin last night. He was in the house. And he said that—”

“Katie, I am so sorry.”

“What?”

“He won’t sell.”

“But—but—I thought you were the executor!”

“Coexecutor.”

“But he was having you make decisions!”

“I was acting solely while we all made an attempt to reach David. He was deep in the jungle. When he wrote, he told me to move along as I saw fit. But as you’ve seen, he’s back. Katie, this is all my fault. I thought that David would certainly be pleased to sell. I didn’t know how he felt about the museum. I made a dozen decisions and he didn’t have a problem with a thing, but…Katie…I’m sorry.”

“But all we needed to do today was sign the last papers,” she said with dismay.

“I know. I’m sorry, so very sorry.”

“No, no, Liam, I know it’s not your fault,” she said.

“It is,” he said. “I mean, it’s not my fault David won’t agree to sell, but I led you on. Katie, it’s…go ahead. Please. Get mad at me.”

She laughed. “Okay. I’m mad at you. But your cousin is a jerk and an ass.”

Liam was silent. She had forgotten that it was a close-knit family, and she understood because she would defend her brother until the stars ceased to shine.

“Now I’m sorry, Liam,” she said.

“No, Katie, no, it’s all right. I know how disappointed you are. And I feel just terrible. Honestly. I can still try to persuade him, but I think I’m going to lay off for a while now. Give him some time to realize that you are never going to make a mockery of anything that happened, sensationalize or make profit off the murder…”

“That’s what he believes?” she asked, astonished.

“I think it’s what he was afraid of at first. I know that he met you last night; he explained it this morning when he said we needed to stop the sale before we wasted everyone’s time. Katie, I think he has a phobia that it could happen again.”

“So he said,” she murmured. “But—every museum down here has an exhibit that’s dedicated to Elena and Count von Cosel. It could happen anywhere. How do we make him see that, and make him understand that…that what happened…Oh, I don’t know. Ten years have gone by. The killer is dead, or living in another state, or in prison for another offense. I loved your grandfather, you know that. He fueled the dream in me, Liam. How do we make your cousin see that?”

“I don’t know. But for now…”

“For now, it’s off,” she said flatly.

“Yes. Forgive me, please. I am unworthy, but forgive me.”

She smiled, running her fingers through the tangle of her hair. She knew that Liam was really sorry, that he had wanted to see the museum opened. “I forgive you. On one condition. As long as he’s here, you help me. Quietly. Maybe he’ll see that I’m for real, and that…Oh, please! Why would the same thing happen again? Tanya was probably a random victim, and if someone had a grudge against the Becketts, well, David doesn’t have an ex-fiancée here anymore. You have to help me. We wait. But you are on my side, right?”

“I am. I love the old museum. I just don’t want to work it, manage it or maintain it. I thought you were perfect as a buyer. So we’ll see, huh?”

He said goodbye and hung up.

David Beckett walked into the police station and was surprised to be hailed by a number of his old classmates and not just his cousin, Liam. They seemed honestly glad to see him, though he would surely be a topic of conversation at their evening meals. He was back.

He greeted old friends warmly, and thanked those who commented on his camerawork for wildlife publications in the past few years. He was surprised that they knew what he did—still photographers rarely received much of the applause. He told friends who asked that there were safe places to photograph wild animals. You just had to develop a skill for knowing those places. “Just like anything,” he said, heading off to find not Liam, but Pete Dryer, the man who had been a fledgling patrolman when he had taken the fateful tour all those years ago.

“David!” Pete was behind a desk now. A lieutenant in the criminal investigation unit, he delved into the streets when serious crime had been committed. Key West had a low murder rate, statistically two persons a year. But Key West was vulnerable to drug runners, and in the past few years, the department had made firm headway against the narcotics invasion. Most of what was really bad in the Keys was related to drugs; big money was at stake, and many of the deaths that had been reported were associated with gangs or drugs.

David had been away, but he’d kept up. Unconsciously, he’d waited to hear about another bizarre murder—or that someone had finally solved what happened to Tanya.

Pete had gained weight. He was stout now, and his blond hair was turning white. He had a smile for David, and a warm embrace, indicating the chair in front of his desk.

David took it.

“Wow. You’re really back here,” Pete said. “Any chance you’re here to stay?”

David shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. But I haven’t accepted any projects for the immediate future, so I’ll be around for a while.”

“That’s great. We’re damned glad to have you here, for whatever time you stay. This is your home, you know.”

“Yeah, it’s my home. I haven’t settled anywhere yet. Pete, I don’t think I can settle anywhere. You know, my grandfather’s death got me thinking about Tanya.”

Pete shook his head sadly and looked down. “David, I wish to God I could give you some kind of closure. We pursued everything we could.”

“Right. The police pursued me,” David said.

“Not fair, David. Your alibi stood up. Craig Beckett was never any kind of a liar, so we all know you were with him—”

“After the museum closed,” David said dryly.

“I believe the coroner—and the dozens of people who said you would not have possibly had the time to leave the museum between your tours. We know Tanya wasn’t killed at the museum, and we all know too that you just weren’t capable of doing that to anyone. Thing is, we just had nowhere to go. I wasn’t in charge, but I remember. We went house-to-house. No one saw anyone go in. There wasn’t a break-in. There was no clue as to where he strangled that girl. Now, if there had been blood, we might have been able to trace something somewhere—” He paused, staring at David. “Well, hell, now I didn’t mean that I wanted that poor girl cut up or tortured, but…strangulation. He left no clues.”

“Pete, I want you to help me. I want to go back over everything.”

Pete stared at him. He groaned. “It was all ten years ago, David.”

“Look, Liam is a cop, a detective now—with the criminal investigation unit. Let him have the paperwork. Assign him to the murder as a cold-case file. Pete, give me something,” David said. “Hell, I’ve made a name for myself in the world. I’m moving on fine. But this haunts me still, every damned day of my life, Pete.”

David heard a noise behind him. He turned and Liam was there. His cousin was two years his junior, his hair was a lighter shade of brown but his eyes were the same color and he knew that most people realized quickly that they were related. David had never known his parents; they’d died together in an automobile accident when he was a year old. He’d lived with his grandparents, but Liam’s mother and father had treated him like their own.

“I can handle it,” Liam said. “Come on, Pete. You know I can take time to reopen the investigation. I can handle my cases, and I can handle an added-on cold case, as well. I’ll keep it low profile.”

“I don’t…Ah, it’s a waste of manpower!” Pete said.

“No. I won’t fail in any way on anything else, and if I do, you pull it back. Pete, what the hell can it hurt?” Liam demanded.

“You may be causing a truckload of trouble down here, you know,” he said.

“Why?” David asked flatly. “We’re looking for truth. Why would the truth disturb anyone?”

“Thing is, this fellow is probably long gone,” Pete said. “David, nothing else has happened. Nothing remotely similar has happened since.”

“How can it hurt? Look, let Liam reopen it as a cold case, and he’ll only use his spare time. We’ll keep it quiet. No other officers need to be involved.”

“Ah, hell, fellows, as long as it’s your time you intend to waste.” Pete wagged a finger at Liam. “Don’t you dare neglect a thing, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” Liam said.

“And you—don’t you go doing anything illegal!” Pete charged David.

“Never,” David said, and smiled.

“I’ll see about the files,” Liam said, and left.

“Thanks, Pete,” David told him.

He rose and left the office. He’d intended on getting to the truth, one way or the other. But it was better having the blessing of the local cops.

Heading out, he ran into Liam. His cousin started to speak, but David shook his head slightly and indicated the door.

Outside the station, Liam frowned handing David the files. “What was that all about?”

“I don’t care to talk in front of anyone else,” David told him.

“Why? If you’re on a hunt to solve a murder from the past, you’re going to need lots of help, and we’ll be questioning lots of people.”

“Liam, you’re the cop, yeah, and I’m grateful. I want to keep it low profile. No big announcements that we’re opening up the case again.”

“Okay…but actually reopening the case. Hell, you didn’t even tell me that you were thinking of doing this—didn’t warn me. I would have helped you talk to Pete. You’re a civilian. You know he couldn’t have given you any files.”

“Yeah, I know, which makes it good that you’re a cop—in the right division.”

Liam nodded and looked away. “I know you. You want to investigate on your own. It’s a wild-goose chase, and you’re worried about bringing in our cops. Why?”

“Because someone from this city killed Tanya, I’m sure of it. Cops down here, they all think that they know everyone, and they’ll be blinded to what they should be seeing. And I’m not sure that any of the members of the old-boy network will be happy to discover that I’m coming after one of their own.”

Katie walked down the stairs, trying to swallow down her disappointment.

She’d dreamed about owning the place for years. She’d been sad for a while after talking to Liam but now she was ready to go to battle again.

As she came down the stairs, she was surprised to smell coffee. The timer hadn’t been set to go off for another few minutes.

Bartholomew met her at the foot of the stairs. He looked grave, but as if he was trying not to smile, as well.

“I’m sorry, Katie. I heard you talking. And the bank is off—really, we both knew that it would be—and I’m sorry. But…”

“But what?”

“I did it!” he told her proudly. “I did it!”

“What did you do?”

“Can’t you smell it? Coffee! I—I—managed to push the button on the coffeemaker. Katie, I moved something. Something tangible.”

She wanted to be happy for him.

It was the start button on a coffeemaker!

But it was a start.

“That’s wonderful. Truly wonderful. And thank you. Coffee is excellent right now, and—”

“I think a good grog would have suited me better, but for you—yes, coffee. And it’s ready.”

She continued to congratulate him as she walked to the large kitchen in back. Once it had been a bedroom and the kitchen had been the apartment in back. But now, it was all a kitchen, and a very nice one, state-of-the-art. Her mother had loved to cook.

She caught her reflection in the back of one of the pans hanging from an old ship’s rack above the counter.

Ugh.

She was wearing an old Disney nightshirt tee and her abundant hair was in tangles all about her. Thank God Bartholomew never commented on her morning appearance.

“Next, we need to work on me stepping out for the newspaper,” he said somberly. “Give the neighbors a terrible fright!”

“Hey! And I was just thinking how kind you were, and how much of a gentleman you were proving to be—for a pirate.”

“Privateer!”

“Whatever,” Katie said sweetly.

She opened the front door, coffee cup in hand, and stepped outside. She saw the paper on the little patch of ground to her right and headed to it.

But as she stooped down to retrieve it, she saw a hand ahead of hers.

“Allow me.”

She looked up and stood quickly, staring at the man in her yard. The sudden bane of her existence.

David Beckett.

She stared at him, not sure if she was feeling ill, angry or simply surprised. He’d just ruined her life. Well, that was an exaggeration, but he had destroyed her future plans and the dream she’d harbored for years. And he was in her yard.

“Can I help you?” she said at last.

“Your paper,” he told her.

“Yes, I see that.”

“Don’t worry. I was just walking. I got in last night, and I’m seeing what hasn’t changed and what has. Your house is the same, exactly the same, as I remember it.”

“I’m so glad to give you something familiar, and happy to make you feel right at home,” she said flatly.

He grinned. By day, she was surprised to realize what a fine face he had. He had a look that was intense, as if the world around him was solemn. But when he smiled his grin broke the chiseled structure, and lightened his eyes. Without a smile, he was compelling—tall, well built, lithe, an outdoorsman with bronzed skin, honed muscles and the rugged appeal that went with it all. When he did pause to smile or laugh, there was an added dimension to him that was even more appealing; the man was sensual.

She wasn’t admiring him, she decided. He’d ruined her life, and he remembered her as a little kid. Sean’s much younger sister.

“I really wish you understood what I feel about the museum,” he said. “I’m not out to destroy anyone’s dream.”

“Well, you managed anyway,” she said. She remembered her apparel—and the fact that she looked like Simba on a very bad mane day.

They were both holding the newspaper. She tugged at it. “Thanks for my paper,” she said. He released it immediately.

Behind her, she felt Bartholomew. “Hey, he’s trying to be nice,” Bartholomew said.

She forced a rigid smile.

“You think you can talk him into seeing it all your way, remember?” Bartholomew asked. “Invite him in. I just made coffee!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, not thinking.

David Beckett’s dark brown brows arched high. “Pardon?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she murmured. She cleared her throat and looked around. It was going to be a beautiful day. Hot, but with a really nice breeze coming through. “I’ve just brewed a pot of coffee, if you’d like to come in.”

He hesitated.

“Seriously, you’re welcome to come in,” she said. “If you don’t mind helping yourself for a moment and letting me run up.”

“You’re going to try to convince me to sell the museum,” he said.

“Well, I won’t be able to if you’re really determined, right?”

“I was actually headed to the Starbucks at La Concha. Sure, I’d love a cup of coffee,” he told her.

“Then, please…” She indicated the steps.

She came in behind him but headed straight for the stairs. “Go ahead, help yourself. I’ll be right down.”

She showered, dressed and brushed her hair with the speed of light and came hurrying back down the stairs. Heading toward the kitchen, she stopped. David Beckett was sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, perusing the paper and sipping coffee.

Bartholomew was sitting across from him, one leg tossed casually over the other, his fingers laced around his knees as he observed David attentively.

David Beckett, of course, was oblivious to him.

“Thus far, he has perpetrated no evil deeds,” Bartholomew said, immediately aware of Katie’s presence and looking up at her.

She ignored him. She had gotten very good—most of the time—at ignoring his comments.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and came striding toward the table. Bartholomew instantly moved over to make room for her. She wasn’t sure what ghosts felt when the living—or inanimate objects—went through them, but Bartholomew wasn’t fond of being sat upon, she knew. A husky fellow at karaoke had sunk down upon his lap once, and Bartholomew’s face had screwed into such an expression of distaste that Katie had quickly lowered her head to hide a laugh.

“So.” She held her cup in both hands and sipped from it. “Lovely day.”

“The kind I remember,” he said.

“What are you doing while you’re here?” she asked him. “You did say you weren’t staying.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like to think of anything as permanent,” he told her. “I don’t have fixed plans at the moment. I’ll spend some time with Liam, and with my great-aunts. Alice and Esther. I believe you know them—everyone always seemed to, anyway.”

Katie nodded. “Of course. They don’t spend much time in town, though.”

“No, at the age of eighty, they still compete over their flowers. Oh, and they both enjoy volunteering at a few of the museums. But will you see them swigging down a pint or two at Sloppy Joe’s? Probably not!”

“The man does seem to have a dry, pleasant and even self-deprecating sense of humor,” Bartholomew commented.

Katie refused to glance his way.

“So, family time, eh?” she queried.

He nodded.

“And dismantling the museum?”

He set his cup down. “Actually, I will get to that. In a month or so.”

“Okay, so, immediately on your agenda? Are you planning on swilling down a few pints at Sloppy Joe’s?”

He laughed. “I may. But that’s not my main intent or purpose.”

“What is?” she asked.

“I want to find out who did kill Tanya,” he told her.

She frowned, so surprised that she just stared at him for long seconds. “I…I don’t see what you can discover now. It happened a decade ago. The police tried—very hard, I’m certain—to find her killer. It’s now ten years after the fact. How could you possibly find out something now that they couldn’t discover then. And why would the killer have hung around?”

“A random killer wasn’t going to bring Tanya’s corpse and leave it in our family museum,” David said.

“Perhaps it had nothing to do with it being your family’s museum. Maybe he had just seen the Elena/Carl Tanzler tableau and decided it was the right place to leave a corpse. God knows, maybe he even thought that the body wouldn’t be discovered.”

“I have the files. Liam is a detective now. He’s been given leave to reopen the case. It’s time that it’s done.”

“They never even had another suspect,” Katie said. She bit her lip. She saw the slight tensing of his features. “I mean, they never had a suspect at all—”

“Other than me.”

“You were never really a suspect, were you?” She flushed slightly, looking away. Of course he’d been a suspect!

“Just a ‘person of interest,’” he told her. “And you’re right—there was never another suspect. And there had to be a reason for that. Either the police continued to believe that I had done it, or they were protecting someone else.”

“Like who?” Katie asked.

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out. Tanya deserves justice.”

“Her family is long gone, you know,” Katie told him.

He nodded, looking away. “I know. Her mother never recovered from what happened, but she came to see me, telling me that she knew I could have never done such a thing. I never saw her father, except at the funeral, and he took Tanya’s mother away the next day. They moved up to St. Augustine, and he had a heart attack a month later and died. Her mother went into psychiatric care, and she died about five years later. Tanya had an older brother—Sam—and to the best of my knowledge, he’s still doing charters out of Key Largo.”

“Oh,” Katie said, surprised. “I thought he had left the state.”

“Just Key West.”

For a moment, they were both silent. To her surprise, it wasn’t an awkward silence, just a sad one. And she did understand why he hated to see the museum reopened.

She reached a hand out to touch his across the table. Sparks seemed to jump into her, and she realized that he was far more tense and vital than she had imagined. “I’m sorry, really sorry,” she told him.

“Well, you see, their lives were destroyed. Our family was torn apart—I couldn’t stay here. I really couldn’t stay here. I might have been running away, but I honestly don’t think so. I just couldn’t stay. The destruction of lives and families was just too much. But now, I know that I will never really be fine with myself if I don’t discover the truth, no matter what it takes.”

“That’s ominous,” Katie told him.

“No, I don’t intend to hold people up at gunpoint or anything of the like. But I’m going to delve until I find something. A young woman was murdered. She had to have fought—Tanya was fond of living, believe me.”

Katie frowned. The case had been years ago. Of course, everyone had been talking about it at the time. It was a small community, especially as far as true conchs—those who were born and bred in Key West—went. Even fresh-water conchs—those who had been in Key West at least seven years—were often rare. Naturally, a scandal, a murder that involved one of the city’s oldest families, was a cause for endless horror and gossip.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember much about the case. I mean, to be honest, we all whispered about it, but our parents would always hush us up. And my brother was upset, of course, and we went to the funeral—everyone in town went to the funeral. But I don’t know a lot about what was discovered. The body was found in a fairly pristine condition. She hadn’t decomposed much…They should have been able to discover some facts regarding the case,” Katie said. She flushed, realizing the things she was saying had to be painful, since he had known Tanya so well. Loved her, at least at some point in his life.