“And it stinks around here,” Katie commented.
Clarinda frowned. “Old booze. Sweat. Maybe someone was sick.”
They walked down to Front Street, turned right and went the few blocks to the store. It was one of Katie’s favorite places. Half of the store sold sexy lingerie, sex toys and naughty Halloween costumes. The other half carried an amazing array for the pirates of Key West. Vests, period coats, shirts, skirts and more. It was possible to be a wench, an aristocrat, an elegant buccaneer or a scurvy mate. The morning had been so busy, she’d been able to set aside everything that had been happening.
Certainly, the city did not seem to be mourning the passing of one of its strippers.
Clarinda tried on a variety of costumes, and decided on a wench. Katie was musing between a corset, blouse and skirt, and a recreation of an Elizabeth Swann costume when Bartholomew appeared at her elbow. “The corset,” he said. “Very real. Miss Swann wasn’t a true pirate wench in any way-she was forced aboard, a kidnap victim. I did love that movie,” he said.
“Where have you been this time?” Katie asked him.
“Home,” he said. She arched a brow, but the ghost had claimed her house as his own, and didn’t appear to notice the way she looked at him. Bartholomew was deep in thought.
“I’m right here, Katie,” Clarinda said, frowning.
“I’m going to go with the shirt, corset thing and skirt,” Katie said.
“Can you sing in that thing?”
“The ties are fake-there’s a zipper in back and it’s stretchy. I’ll be fine,” Katie said.
“I’ve been reading the book,” Bartholomew said. “Nice piece of nostalgia for me. Beckett was a damned decent man.”
“That’s good to hear,” Katie said.
“Pardon?” Clarinda said.
“They’ll be able to hear me fine,” Katie said. She glared tight-lipped at Bartholomew, who shrugged.
“I know that the key to all this is in the past. Did you see the part where Beckett mentions that Smith cursed him from the noose?”
Katie lowered her head. “I can’t talk to you now, Bartholomew,” she said.
“Katie?” Clarinda said.
“Sorry, arguing with myself,” Katie said. “Come on, let’s pay for this stuff.”
At the counter, she produced her credit card, assuring Clarinda that they were giving the bill to Jamie. As she waited to sign the slip, Katie gazed out the window.
The sun was filtering in. For a moment, it seemed to blind her.
Then, she saw that Tanya was standing there. Standing there, beautiful and sad in white, as if waiting for her company.
“Sign that for me, will you?” Katie said to Clarinda. “Please.”
“Where are you going? Katie, are you all right? Hey, wait!” Clarinda said.
But Katie was already on her way out.
Tanya waited, caught in that glimmer of sunlight, until Katie was nearly upon her. Then she started to walk.
Katie made her way through buxom lasses and strapping pirates, and a U.S. Navy sea captain here and there. Vampires and zombies were crowding the streets, as well. The season was changing-it was just hot instead of dead hot-but all manner of costumes were being worn-naked and in paint, almost naked, to period frock coats and heavy fabric skirts.
Music was emitting from restaurants and bars already; a fire-eater was working a corner of Front Street.
Tanya managed to stay just ahead of Katie.
Bartholomew was following close behind her.
“She’s headed for the hanging tree,” he said.
“Why?” Katie murmured.
Bartholomew said, “I keep telling you, it has to have something to do with the past. It has something to do with me,” he said.
She turned to stare at him, crashed into a wolfman, righted herself, apologized and hurried on. “Wolfman-the guy is crazy! He’ll be sweating to death before tonight,” she murmured.
They reached the saloon. It was busy. Katie saw Tanya slip in and she followed. There were no tables. There was one seat at the bar and she grabbed it, ordered a drink from a harried bartender and looked around.
“Imagine back,” Bartholomew said, standing right behind her and whispering in her ear. “When I died, the building wasn’t here. The area where you’re sitting was built in eighteen fifty-one. Morgue. Quite convenient. After one of the hurricanes, folks came back and found that the bodies weren’t in great shape. They ripped up the floorboards and buried them right here.”
“I know. There’s still a tombstone here,” Katie said.
“And bones in the ground,” Bartholomew said sadly.
“And the woman who haunts the bathroom,” Katie said. “But, Bartholomew-”
“You’ve got to go back before that. Military law-and no law. Evidence? What was evidence in a buccaneer town like Key West?” he asked bitterly.
“Did you see Smith hang?” Katie asked him.
He shook his head. “I had friends. I was buried on the beach. After the same hurricane, they dug me up with the others-and what pieces they discovered were transferred to the new cemetery-the Key West cemetery.”
She actually felt his hands on her shoulders. “Katie, it’s all attached, I just know it, somehow. You have to go through that book again.”
“Danny Zigler had checked out several books. They’re at David’s house. We’ll get them first thing in the morning, how’s that? Or, I’ll call David. I’ll ask him to get them before tonight, and then I’ll have them to read.”
“Is something wrong?” the bartender asked Katie, concerned despite the insanity of the bar. She had large brown eyes and a Romanian accent.
“I’m sorry, muttering to myself, practicing for tonight,” Katie told her.
Her cell phone was ringing. She saw that it was Clarinda. She answered quickly. “Sorry, I saw an old friend-from school,” she said quickly.
“Anyone I know?” Clarinda asked.
“College,” Katie lied, and winced. “Meet me on Duval and Front, okay?”
“I’m there, looking for you.”
“I’m there!” Katie promised.
Katie offered the bartender a bill and slipped off the bar stool.
She turned, and Tanya was there, staring straight at her. Her lips were moving. Katie froze, staring, and then inhaled, watching Tanya’s lips.
Then she could hear. Barely.
“Revenge. He whispered the word when he was behind me. Revenge.”
Tanya then stared at Bartholomew; her lips moved again, and she seemed distressed.
She faded, and was gone.
“See, she wants you to listen to me,” Bartholomew said. “That’s why she brought you here. Revenge! And she must somehow know or sense that it has to do with the past.”
Katie nodded. “Right. She’s gaining strength as a ghost.”
“And she just used it all, bringing you here, whispering.”
“I got it, I got it!” Katie assured him.
Her cell started ringing again. Clarinda!
She waved a thanks to the bartender and hurried out. It was all crazy. Two women were dead, dressed up and laid out like a twentieth-century corpse. And yet Tanya had come here, and Bartholomew insisted that it all went back to something that had occurred before the buildings here even existed.
She saw Clarinda on the street, waved and blocked her mouth with her hand as she told Bartholomew, “Please, please, please! Don’t make me keep talking, okay?”
He didn’t reply. He was silent as they met Clarinda.
“Let’s head back to O’Hara’s, and I’ll get the car and we’ll bring it back later. We’ve only got an hour or so, but I’d like to take a shower before tonight. I feel like I’m covered in bangers and grits,” Katie said.
“Ah, and I have a fine sheen of maple syrup,” Clarinda said. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
As they walked along, Katie thought that she might tease and mock, but she loved Fantasy Fest. So many of the costumes were amazing. They passed by a fellow dressed up as a parrot; he had magnificent feathers, body paint-and the subtle decency to wear a brilliantly fashioned loincloth. It was a beautiful costume-fitting right in with the fellow’s Mohawk-and both Katie and Clarinda gave him quick compliments as they passed.