The Ghosts of Aquinnah

by Julie Flanders

  “Can I get you two anything else right now?” he asked.

  “No thanks,” Hannah said. “We're good.”

  The two dug into their dinner and ate in a comfortable silence as both enjoyed the ambiance and the view.

  “So,” Tim finally said, taking a break from devouring his lobster. “What made you start researching this story for your book?”

  “I told you,” Hannah said. “I got the idea while researching The City of Columbus.”

  “Yeah, but that's a hell of a leap. How do you go from a shipwreck to speculating that a doctor who treated one of the survivors killed himself?”

  Hannah shrugged. “What can I say? One thing just led to another.”

  “Come on.”

  Hannah took a sip of water and stared across the table at him. “You'll think I'm crazy if I tell you the whole story.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I think it's a safe bet.”

  “Come on, Hannah. You're talking to a man whose idea of a good day is spending hours with old bones. I'm not exactly the judgmental type.”

  “Fine. But if you think I'm nuts, just keep it to yourself.”

  “Deal.”

  Hannah sighed and told the story, beginning with Stella's appearance on the webcam. She considered leaving the old newspapers left on her bed out of it, but figured she might as well just spill the whole thing. Once you'd divulged that you made contact with a ghost through a webcam, there wasn't much point in being shy about the rest of the tale.

  Tim listened intently, his brown eyes watching her quizzically. “So that's it?” he said when Hannah had finished.

  “Yes. That's it.”

  “So what part was supposed to make me think you're crazy?”

  Hannah was taken aback, until she noticed the grin on his face. “Oh, I don't know,” she said, laughing. “I guess the bit about reading the old newspaper reels.”

  “Oh, okay. Yeah, that's batshit.”

  Hannah laughed again. “Alright, smartass. So what do you really think of my story? Do you think I'm batshit?”

  “I don't,” Tim said. “I think it's interesting.”

  “You do? So you believe in ghosts?”

  Tim shrugged. “I don't know. But I don't just discount them.” He took another bite of lobster and stared out the window as he chewed. “In my line of work,” he finally said, “I've had some strange occurrences that I can't really explain. And that, frankly, I've always kept to myself.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I'll be working with a set of remains and somehow I get the feeling that the person these bones used to be is trying to help me see the truth about their deaths. If I'm alone in a room with the bones, I almost start to feel like there's someone there with me. I can sense a presence.”

  Hannah's eyes widened. “When I found the newspaper on my bed back at the Hammett House, I felt like there was someone with me in the room.”

  Tim nodded. “So you know what I mean.”

  “I guess so.” Hannah stared across the table at him as he took more of his lobster. “I have to admit, I'm surprised you're interested in this sort of thing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you're a scientist. I thought science was all about things that can be explained.”

  “It is. And that's what I look for in the bones. Explanations to what happened in the past.”

  “Still. It's surprising.”

  Tim shrugged. “I guess I'm just a different kind of scientist. And you remember how I told you I grew up around Lexington?”

  “Sure.”

  “Like I told you, I didn't grow up down in the holler. But that doesn't mean I didn't have relatives there. I had a great-aunt who lived out in the hills and she was one of the best storytellers I've ever known. I loved visiting her because she'd tell me all about the ghosts in the hills and the legends...” Tim smiled fondly. “Crazy shit, but I never doubted her that some of it was true. When you're in a place as steeped in history and lore as the Appalachian Mountains, you have to respect that there are things we can't really explain about the people who've been there before us.”

  “And might still be sticking around?” Hannah asked.

  “Exactly.”

  Hannah leaned back in her chair and smiled at him. “I have to admit, it's really refreshing to talk to you. I've only told a few people about this story, but they've thought I was crazy as can be.”

  “Well, maybe we're both headed for the nuthouse together.”

  Hannah stared out at the Sound below them, remembering testimony she had read from Christopher's indictment that he had disappeared from his employer's home at Menemsha on the night of Josiah's death. She thought about him working on the docks and looking at the same ocean and sky she was looking at now. She wondered if he had ever walked along the jetties that lined the channel the way she had with her father when she was a kid. Not for the first time, she wished she had a picture of him in her mind like she did the others. There was something sad about the fact that he would always be a faceless young man.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Tim said.

  Hannah turned away from the window and back to her dinner companion. “I was just thinking about Christopher. During my research into the case I learned that he worked on the docks in Menemsha. So he would have been looking at the same view we are at some point. Or at least close enough.”

  “So why do you think Stella made contact with you?” Tim asked.

  “I don't know. But I think she just wants the story of what happened to come out, even after all this time.”

  “But why you?”

  Hannah remembered the sense she had from the articles she had read, that Stella was alone except for her husband. Through time, she somehow sensed a kindred spirit in Stella. Maybe Stella felt the same way about her.

  “I think maybe she just thought I might be someone who could understand her.” Hannah let out a deep breath. “My parents were killed a few years ago in a car accident and I don't have any siblings so I've been pretty much alone ever since.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Thanks. I think Stella felt alone in her life except for her friendship with Christopher Casey. I think maybe she thought I'd feel a connection to her.”

  “Do you?”

  Hannah shrugged. “Maybe. I don't really know. I know I felt something when I saw her on that webcam though. She just looked so sad and lost...” She paused and suddenly looked across the table at Tim.

  “What?” he asked.

  “When we were at the cemetery earlier it dawned on me that even if I learn what happened to Josiah, I still don't have the whole story.”

  “How so?”

  “I have no idea what happened to Stella. I hadn't thought about it because I was so wrapped up in the murder of Christopher, but I wonder what happened to her. What kind of a life could she have had after such a tragedy? Plus, she was accused of infidelity and it was clear that the majority of her neighbors believed she had been unfaithful to her husband.”

  “That would have been a hell of a scandal back then,” Tim said.

  “How could she have kept living here after all that?”

  “Maybe she didn't.”

  Hannah nodded, suddenly feeling a rush of adrenalin. “I need to find out,” she said. She wiped her face with her napkin and set it on the table next to her plate as she glanced around the restaurant for the waiter.

  “Can we finish dinner first?” Tim asked. “I don't think you're going to be able to find much out tonight.”

  Hannah laughed. “I'm sorry, you're right. I just got excited for a minute.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Would you like to get dessert?”

  “I'd love it,” Tim said. “But I don't feel right about you paying for my meal here. We'll split the bill.”

  “We absolutely will not. I made a deal and I'm sticking with it.”

  “Okay, you win. But let's do this again back in Boston.”
/>   “Do what?”

  “What do you mean, do what? Dig up an old grave, of course.”

  Tim laughed at the look on Hannah's face. “I'm kidding. I meant let's go out to dinner again, that's all.”

  Hannah turned red, embarrassed at her momentary cluelessness. “I'm sorry, I should have known what you meant. I can be a little slow sometimes.” She smiled across the table. “I'd love to have dinner with you again.”

  “Good. And next time will be my treat.”

  “Kind of defeats the purpose of our deal.”

  “Who cares? I told you all along I didn't need money to work on your case. This kind of thing is what I consider entertainment.”

  “No wonder you don't think I'm batshit.”

  “Exactly. Didn't I tell you I have no room to judge?”

  The waiter returned with their desserts and Hannah leaned back in her chair, studying Tim as he took a bite of his chocolate bread pudding. She had made sure to check out his left hand when she'd first enjoyed lunch with him, and had been happy to see then that he didn't wear a wedding ring. But she knew perfectly well that that didn't necessarily mean he wasn't married. She couldn't deny she hoped he wasn't and decided to find out.

  “So tell me more about yourself,” she said. “What do you do when you're not digging up bones?”

  “Well you already know I teach. Besides that, I love baseball.”

  “Red Sox?”

  “Cincinnati Reds.”

  Hannah nodded, pleased. “I should have guessed that since you're from Kentucky. I'm a Colts fan to the core and have never switched to the Patriots, so I can relate.” She took a bite of her lemon cake. “What else do you love?”

  “Dogs. I have two of them. A mutt named Harris and a golden retriever named Lucy.”

  “I had a dog as a kid,” Hannah said. “I've always wanted one here but my apartment doesn't allow them and for years I've been too lazy to move.” Hannah finally decided to stop beating around the bush. “Do you have children in addition to your dogs?”

  Tim shook his head. “No, no children. You probably want to know if I'm married, right?”

  “The question crossed my mind.”

  “I'm divorced, to answer your question. Have been for three years now.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be. It was the best thing for both of us.” Tim shook his head. “If I was married and I was sitting here having dinner with you and asking you to dinner back in Boston, I hate to think what an asshole I'd have to be to be doing that.”

  Hannah laughed. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you're an asshole. But you can never be too careful. And for the record, I'm not married either.”

  Tim chuckled and shook his head. “Alright. Glad we got that out on the table.”

  The sun had disappeared into the sea now, and Hannah stared out the window at the darkness descending on the harbor. She suddenly felt awkward and ready to be done with dinner. She hadn't meant for this to turn personal. It was only supposed to be about her book.

  “I should probably get the check,” she said. “I'm just realizing what a long day it's been.”

  “It has been that. But this dinner was a great way to end it.”

  Hannah blushed at the grin Tim shot her across the table. She forced herself to ignore the fact that he was so good looking he nearly made her short of breath. She had no desire to act like a silly schoolgirl and throw herself at him. She had no doubt he was used to women doing exactly that when they saw him. She didn't have the energy for that now after all that had happened with Jon.

  And this was only supposed to be about her book.

  ****

  Hannah busily typed away on her keyboard, anxious to make an afternoon deadline. She scowled when her phone vibrated on her desk, but the scowl turned to a smile when she picked the phone up and saw that her caller was Tim.

  “Hi Tim,” she said.

  “Good morning. Did I catch you at a good time to talk?”

  “Sure,” Hannah lied. “What's up?”

  “I have some test results from my colleagues that I think will interest you.”

  “Already?”

  “Of course. None of these tests take very long.”

  Hannah could hear her heart beating in her chest and her palms felt clammy. She had put the Winslow case out of her mind since returning from the Vineyard with Tim and had focused on her work, but now that the answers to her questions might be at hand she was suddenly a nervous wreck.

  “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “What do you have for me?”

  “Well for one, there were minute traces of gunshot residue on the remains of the leather gloves.”

  “Really? So that shows he fired the gun?”

  “It shows he fired a gun while wearing those gloves. We can't definitively determine that it was the gun that killed him.”

  “Well, come on, Tim. What other gun would it be?”

  “We can't say for sure. I'm just making that clear.”

  “Alright. Any other results?”

  “Yes. I haven’t even told you the most interesting one yet. My friend ran tests on the bones. Josiah Winslow was riddled with bone cancer when he died.”

  Hannah remained silent, stunned at the news.

  “Once again, we can't say anything for sure,” Tim continued, “but the cancer was so extensive that my friend's guess is that it metastasized from somewhere else in his body. Perhaps his liver or lungs...impossible to know.”

  “So he would have been in terrible pain, wouldn't he?”

  “Unbearable. Considering the pain medicine available at the time, the man must have been in agony.”

  “And he would have known he was dying?”

  “He might not have known it was cancer, but he had to know it was something seriously wrong.”

  Hannah chewed her lip and stared at the screen saver of her laptop. “He killed himself to avoid dying a miserable, painful death later on. He had nothing to lose.”

  “He didn't, no. From what my friend said about the extent of the cancer in his bones, he was living on borrowed time.”

  “It's strange that no one brought that up when he was killed. At least not according to the accounts I read.”

  “Why would they? If he didn't have visible tumors no one would have suspected cancer back in those days. And with a note naming the killer no one had any reason to believe it was anything but murder.”

  “No one but Stella. She knew the note was a lie since Christopher had been with her. She was telling the truth.”

  “I'd say that's more than likely now. I think your theory holds up based on what we can determine from Josiah's remains. The angle of the bullet hitting the bone suggests he fired the gun himself, as does the GSR, obviously.”

  Hannah was silent; her mind racing as she tried to process the findings Tim had shared.

  “Have you learned anything about what happened to Stella?” he asked.

  “No. I haven't had a chance to look into it. I'm going to start with marriage and death records though. Census records too. I can find those things online but I'm probably going to have to go back to the Vineyard as well. Now that I've learned all this I'm anxious to get back to it.”

  “I can understand that. If you're not too tied up I'd still love to have that dinner sometime though.”

  Hannah could imagine his smile through the phone. “I'm definitely not too tied up. You pick the time and the place and I'll be there.”

  “Sounds good. I'll get back with you soon.”

  “Tim, thanks so much for what you've done for me. I can't say enough how much I appreciate it.”

  “You're very welcome. It's been my pleasure. I love this sort of thing, I told you that. And honestly? You've got me curious to know what happened to Stella too.”

  “When I find out you'll be the first to know.”

  “Great. I'll talk to you soon, Hannah.”

  “Thank you again.”

  Hannah put her ph
one back on her desk and stared out at the sidewalk below her window. She had forgotten completely about the article waiting for her attention on her laptop. She had her story now, she knew it. After putting the pieces together, it didn't take much imagination to understand what Josiah Winslow had done.

  ****

  1884

  Josiah slammed the door of his home and watched Stella through the window as she pulled herself up from the porch and made her way out to the street. She turned onto the road and was quickly out of sight. Josiah's lip curled up in disgust. He had no doubts about where she was headed. He knew perfectly well she would run to Menemsha and her Irish lover.

  He grimaced as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. It was coming from everywhere now, and he was no longer able to say what part of his body hurt the most. It was all the same. And it was constant agony. He'd taken all the laudanum he could take and still function, and it did nothing. He knew he was past the point of anything helping him.

  He slowly stumbled to his office and sat down in his chair. At least that brought a little relief to his legs. The pain of his weight when he was standing had become unbearable. Josiah pulled a bottle of laudanum out of his desk drawer and swallowed all of the contents. It may not help much, but at least it was something.

  The only time he’d felt even a second of relief from the pain was when he'd been lashing out at Stella. He supposed the adrenalin had simply taken over. That, and his rage had eclipsed even the pain that crippled him.

  After all he had been through in his life, working his way from a poor farm boy to an educated and respected island doctor, he never could have imagined it would all come to this in the end. His wife flaunting her infidelity and her young lover in front of his peers and neighbors. As if the agony of his illness wasn't enough, now he would be remembered as a cuckold and a pathetic fool.

  Josiah thought of Lillian and ached again for the woman he had always loved. She would never have treated him this way. He felt a moment of shame as he realized she would never have approved of his beating of Stella, either. He knew he had gone too far. But the hussy had brought out the worst in him. If only she'd shown him the minimum of respect, she could have saved herself from that beating. And not just the beating. She could have saved herself what was to come, too. She'd made her bed and Josiah felt no shame about making her lie in it.