The Ghosts of Aquinnah

by Julie Flanders

  Hannah glanced at the clock on her bedside table, only to find that Jon had apparently taken it with him. She guessed that the clock didn't count as furniture. She wondered what else he had decided to take when he had moved out, but she didn't have time to go looking around to find out. She’d already wasted enough time thinking about him. She only had a few hours before her appointment with her interview subject and she wanted to take a shower and get cleaned up before she left. She also had some digging around to do on her laptop.

  Hannah had been thinking about Stella Winslow's story on the ferry ride back to the mainland and all during her drive back up Route 3 to Boston. She remembered a show she had watched some months back called “History's Mysteries,” where a team of professionals, including a forensic anthropologist, had investigated old unsolved cases to attempt to bring some sort of resolution to them. She specifically remembered that the forensic specialist was on the faculty at Harvard. That was an easy detail to remember. She had found him so good looking while watching the show that she wished she had taken some of his classes while she was a student.

  After finishing her shower, Hannah booted up her laptop and brought up the website for the “History's Mysteries” television show. She quickly brought up the cast profiles and found the man she wanted. Dr. Tim Corcoran, a professor of forensic anthropology, whose role on the team was to scientifically examine human skeletal remains. Hannah was well aware that the chances of getting authorization to exhume Josiah Winslow's remains were probably less than zero, but she had to start somewhere. And with both Harvard credibility and television clout behind him, Tim Corcoran felt like her best chance to get what she wanted. She just needed to convince him to help her first.

  Hannah had found Corcoran likeable while watching the show, not only because of his drop-dead good looks but also because of his no-nonsense, down to earth demeanor. He had a slight Southern drawl and a twinkle in his brown eyes that made him appear charming even when he was discussing the grisliest of topics. Of course, his strong jawline, hint of stubble, and short brown hair with a few sophisticated touches of gray hadn't hurt either. Hannah imagined the show's producers had been beside themselves when they’d found a science geek who just happened to look like he could have worked as a model in his younger years.

  As she stared at Corcoran's head shot on the website, she couldn't help but feel that he was just the person to help her with her search. He was undoubtedly besieged with requests after his work on the show, but there was no harm in trying to reach him and asking for an appointment. As a writer, she knew perfectly well that anyone who wanted a story couldn't be bashful about it. And she knew without a doubt that she wanted this story.

  She glanced at the time at the corner of her screen and realized she was going to be late for her interview if she didn't get going. She brought up Corcoran's email address at Harvard and quickly wrote a short, concise message to him explaining her situation and asking for an opportunity to meet with him concerning the mystery she hoped to solve. She checked for typos and hit send, and hurried off to her appointment.

  To her amazement, Hannah saw a response from Corcoran in her inbox when she returned home several hours later. He was intrigued by her story and wanted to meet her for lunch the following week at a cafe near Cambridge. Hannah knew the place and had been there many times with Jon as it was close to Massachusetts General. Amazed at her good fortune, Hannah replied immediately, thanking Corcoran for his interest and accepting his lunch invitation.

  Hannah felt giddy as she walked to her kitchen and tried to figure out what to have for dinner. It was only when she got to the kitchen that she remembered she didn't actually have any food. She hasn't been to the grocery store since returning from the Vineyard that morning. She sighed when she opened the refrigerator and realized she didn't even have Half & Half for her morning coffee.

  Knowing a trip to the store was unavoidable, Hannah grabbed her purse and headed back outside. She was completely exhausted and feeling the effects of her long day of travel and work, but she still felt a sense of elation about the chance to meet Tim Corcoran and discuss her theories about Josiah Winslow with him. She realized as she walked to the small grocery store around the corner from her apartment that she hadn't spent any time at all thinking about Jon and the fact that he had left her.

  ****

  Hannah had always heard that people who are good looking on television or in the movies are actually better looking in real life. She hadn't really believed it. But then she saw Tim Corcoran. When she entered the Cambridge Cafe and scanned the restaurant looking for him, it was incredibly easy to pick him out. Sitting in a room full of young and largely attractive college students and medical residents, he was easily the best looking person in the room.

  She walked to his table and introduced herself.

  “Dr. Corcoran?” she asked. “I'm Hannah Forrester.”

  Corcoran pushed his chair back from the table and stood up to greet her. He was taller than Hannah expected, she guessed around 6'3”, and, in spite of her own height, he towered over her when he shook her extended hand.

  “Ms. Forrester. It's nice to meet you.” He gestured towards the chair across from him. “Please, have a seat. I hope you don't mind I ordered some coffee already. I got here early.”

  “Oh, no, I don't mind at all.”

  “This place has the best coffee in Boston.”

  “I agree with that. I'm anxious to get some myself.”

  “I forgot you said you've been here before.”

  “Right, I have. With my...” Hannah stopped herself. She had no interest in talking about Jon, and he wasn't her boyfriend anymore anyway. “I've met friends here before.”

  As the waitress came to the table and asked if Hannah would like a drink, Hannah quickly ordered a coffee herself and scanned the menu in front of her while her companion asked for a refill. When the waitress returned with Hannah's coffee and a fresh pot for the two of them to share, Hannah tried to work up her nerve to approach the reason she was here in the cafe in the first place. She decided to forgo small talk and just get to the point.

  “So, Dr. Corcoran...”

  “Please, call me Tim.”

  “Of course. Tim,” Hannah said. She cleared her throat. “First off I just want to say how much I appreciate your willingness to meet with me.”

  “My pleasure. The case you mentioned in your email sounded interesting to me. And the fact that it involves Martha's Vineyard appealed to me.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “When I first came to Harvard as a student, I dated a girl who had family there. I visited the island with her a few times and fell in love with it. It's always stuck with me even though I haven't been there now in years.”

  Hannah smiled. “They say once you get the Vineyard's sand in your shoes you'll always return.”

  “I can definitely understand that.”

  The waitress returned and took their lunch orders. Hannah and Tim both laughed when they found themselves ordering the same sandwich, roast beef and cheese on a French bread roll.

  “You have good taste,” Tim said.

  “You too,” Hannah said. She took a sip of coffee and smiled at the taste she remembered quite well. “How do they make their coffee this good? I'd kill for their coffee beans.”

  “Careful making that kind of a statement around me. You know what I do for a living.”

  Hannah laughed. “You know, to be honest, I really didn't think you'd get back to me. I was sure you'd be too busy with the tv show.”

  Tim cocked his right eyebrow. “You haven't heard? The show was canceled.”

  “Oh, really? I'm sorry to hear that. I thought it was a great show.”

  “Unfortunately not many people agreed with you. In fact I think you and my parents are the only ones who thought so.”

  Hannah chuckled. “I'm sure that isn't true.”

  “Yeah, maybe not. My aunt liked it too.” Tim smiled and took a sip of his own drin
k. “Honestly though, that's one of the reasons I was intrigued by your email. I found myself at loose ends a bit when we got the news of the cancellation.”

  “Really? So it was a surprise then?”

  “We knew the show was on the bubble, but the producers were confident we'd get another season. The network had told them it was almost a certainty. So we had all of our cases arranged and I'd made room on my calendar to travel to the various locations we had lined up, only to have the network change their mind last week and give us the ax. Suddenly I had a cleared calendar and nothing to fill it with.”

  “I guess I had good timing then.”

  “You did.”

  “Well I'm sorry your show was canceled. But I can't deny I'm glad I caught you at the right time.”

  The waitress returned with their lunches and both dug in.

  “So tell me more about your Martha's Vineyard mystery,” Tim said between bites of his sandwich.

  Hannah took another drink of coffee and launched into her tale, including her desire to write a book about the story of Stella Winslow, leaving out only the fact that she believed the ghost of Stella was somehow leading her on this quest. Instead, she pretended she had merely become interested in the story while reading about the wreck of The City of Columbus. She didn't want the man to think she was insane before he even considered helping with her case.

  “So you don't think the Irishman killed the doctor, right?” Tim asked after she had finished.

  “No, I don't. I think he was innocent and a victim of vigilantes.”

  Tim nodded. “I can see how that could have happened. I doubt the island was a very friendly place for Irish immigrants back then.”

  “I don't think anywhere in New England was particularly friendly for the Irish back then,” Hannah said.

  “Right. ‘No Irish Need Apply’ and all that.”

  “Exactly.” Hannah let out a breath. “I think that's one of the main things that interests me about the case to tell you the truth.”

  “How so?”

  “I grew up in Indianapolis and lived there all my life before I came to Harvard. Let's just say when I was growing up there weren't a lot of black people there. In fact, I think my mother and I were it in our neighborhood.”

  Tim nodded. “I know a little bit about being an outcast myself.”

  Hannah couldn't hide her skepticism. Was he serious? A gorgeous white man with a Harvard education?

  “You?” she asked.

  “Yes, me,” Tim said. “Believe it or not, geeky boys from small towns in Kentucky aren't necessarily welcomed with open arms by the majority of the Harvard student body.”

  Hannah leaned back in her chair. “So that's where you're from, Kentucky? I noticed you had a bit of a drawl when I saw you on tv.”

  “I had quite a drawl when I first moved here,” he said. “You should have heard some of the imitations.”

  “I can imagine,” Hannah said. “Okay. So here's to outcasts,” she said, raising her coffee mug.

  “God love 'em,” Tim said, clinking her mug with his own. He took another drink and finished the first half of his sandwich. “So if you don't think the Irishman killed the doctor, who do you think did? Do you have some suspect in mind from your research?”

  “Yes, but I don't think it was murder. I think the doctor killed himself.”

  Tim paused, his coffee mug in mid-air. “Why would he have done that?”

  “I don't know. But I'm hoping you can help me figure that out.”

  “Okay,” Tim said, sounding skeptical.

  “Is it possible to tell if someone shot themselves from skeletal remains?”

  “If the bullet hit bone, we may be able to discern something from the angle of the shot. And sometimes we can find gun residue on clothing if it hasn't decayed. But I have to tell you, the odds are not very good.”

  “But not impossible?”

  “No, not impossible.” Tim grinned. “There's not much that's considered impossible in my line of work.”

  “So are you interested?”

  “I haven't said I'm not.”

  Hannah finished her coffee and set the mug down on the table. “What would we need to do to exhume the body?”

  “Well, first off, I'd need to get a court order. And work with a funeral home on the island that deals with the cemetery where the man was buried.”

  “It's Abel's Hill in Chilmark.”

  Tim nodded. “I think I remember driving past there. Creepy place.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “We also need to make sure that no relatives object to the exhumation, but I can't imagine that will be an issue here.”

  “Dr. Winslow didn't have any children. There shouldn't be any descendants to object.”

  “Well that always makes it easier.”

  Hannah bit her lip. “I can hire you as a consultant but I have to be upfront, I don't have a lot of money to pay you.”

  “You don't have to pay me,” Tim said.

  “No, I should. I want to be professional about this.”

  “Well let's just say I'm doing this pro-bono to start.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Like I told you, it interests me. And at the risk of sounding like an egotistical jackass, I really don't need the money. I might have only lasted one season on tv but that was enough to give me more money than I ever dreamed of having.”

  Hannah smiled. “Kentucky boy makes good.”

  “Yep. They wouldn't believe it back in the holler.”

  “Are you really from the holler?” Hannah asked, trying not to laugh.

  “No. I'm from a town just outside Lexington. Everything was about basketball and bourbon and horses where I grew up, not backwoods hills.”

  “Well okay, so you don't need the money. I still don't feel right not paying you for your time.”

  “You can buy me a meal, how's that?”

  “You mean you want me to pay for your lunch?”

  “No, I was actually trying to find a clever way to ask you to go out to dinner with me. I'm thinking now it wasn't that clever.”

  “No, I think I was just being an idiot,” Hannah said, blushing. “I get it now.”

  “Well I hope so since I just spelled it out for you.”

  Hannah laughed. “Alright, I'll take you to dinner. You pick the place.”

  “Sounds good. I'll make sure I pick somewhere expensive so you know I'm not cheap.” Tim glanced at his watch and took a last swallow of coffee. “Believe me when I say Ms. Forrester...”

  “Hannah”

  Tim smiled. “Hannah. Believe me when I say I am very sorry to have to wrap this lunch up. But I have to get to class.” He scanned the room for the waitress, frowning when he couldn't find her.

  “Oh, that's okay. I'll wait for the waitress and take care of the check. That way I'll know for sure you're not cheap.”

  Tim laughed and stood up from the table. “Thank you. And I'll be in touch about our dinner.”

  “What about our case?”

  “Oh sure, that too,” Tim said, grinning. “I'll get started on the court order.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tim nodded and left the table. Hannah poured herself another cup of coffee and went over the lunch in her head. She couldn't actually believe he had agreed to take on the Winslow case. And she also couldn't believe how excited she was about the chance to work with him.

  ****

  A week passed before Hannah heard from Tim again. She opened her email and found another reply to her original message to him.

  “I was working so hard on being smooth I forgot to get your number. Call me.”

  He then added his cell and office number.

  Hannah decided to take a more professional approach and dialed his Harvard office.

  He answered on the second ring. “Tim Corcoran.”

  “Hello, Tim. It's Hannah Forrester.”

  “Hannah. Great to hear from you.”

  “Do y
ou have news for me?”

  “I do. First off, it turns out there's only one funeral home on the Vineyard, so finding out who deals with Abel's Hill was easy. It's the Hammond Funeral Home in Vineyard Haven.”

  Hannah remembered driving past the home hundreds of times when driving through the town, but couldn't have told anyone the name if her life depended on it. It wasn't something you paid attention to on summer vacation.

  “Okay, that's good. Were you able to get a court order?”

  “Yes, I was. And the Hammond people didn't give me any argument. Apparently the funeral director was another one of the select few who watched “History's Mysteries.”

  Hannah smiled through the phone. “Your fame precedes you.”

  “It has its benefits.”

  “So what's next?”

  “I was hoping I could take you up on that dinner offer.”

  “Well, okay. But what about my case?”

  “I was thinking we could have dinner on the island. I have a few free days and I thought now would be as good a time as any to go see if we can figure out what happened to Dr. Winslow. Can you get away?”

  “Yes, I definitely can!” Hannah couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice.

  She heard Tim's chuckle on the other end of the line.

  “I don't know if I've ever heard anyone so anxious to go dig up bones. Except for me, of course.”

  “I didn't expect to be able to go with you,” Hannah said. “I'm not sure what I expected, but I guess I thought I'd just have to wait for a report from you.”

  “It's your story. I thought you'd want to go. Maybe seeing the process will help with your book.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah said.

  “Okay, so when do you want to go grave robbing with me?”

  “Whenever you can get away is fine with me. The best thing about freelancing is that I'm flexible.”

  “Alright. Well, I have class tomorrow afternoon and then I'm done for the week. Want to leave Thursday morning?”

  “Sure. I'll make a boat reservation. I think we'll be okay this early in the season.”

  “I'm counting on you to take me to the best restaurant on the island.”