Echoes of Evil

by Heather Graham

  He seemed glad when he saw that Liam had returned.

  “Detective Beckett is head of this investigation,” Al said, rising as Liam and Brodie walked into the office. “Perhaps, you can tell him...”

  “Oh, Liam!” Apparently, Beverly Atkins knew Liam well. She stood and threw her arms around him; Liam was a big man. The tiny woman looked like a little elf creature clinging to him.

  “Bev, Bev, it’s okay,” Liam said gently.

  “No, no, it’s not okay. What a wonderful man he was. I was welcoming people in the parlor when he arrived, and we chatted quite a bit. He told me exactly what he was doing down here. He told me that he felt it was so important in this country that we remember the good and the bad. He’s always been ashamed that he had an ancestor who was involved not just in owning slaves—but in procuring slaves. I told him that was just silly—his ancestor lived well over a hundred years ago. But, Liam, it meant so much to him. He was with me for two nights. All he talked about was that he had an appointment with a man from Sea Life, and that he was incredibly anxious to get by our new museum and speak with Kody McCoy. Liam, how could this have happened to him?”

  “Bev, I don’t know,” Liam said, soothing her. “But I will find out.”

  Al Garcia cleared his throat, nodded to Brodie in acknowledgment, and then said, “Excuse me!” and made an escape.

  Bev suddenly noted that Brodie was in the room. “Oh. Hello,” she said, swallowing, standing on her own and flushing.

  “How do you do,” Brodie said.

  “This is Brodie McFadden,” Liam said in introduction. “Brodie, Miss Beverly Atkins.”

  “Oh, Mr. McFadden, you’ve come at a bad time for us, a very bad time.”

  “Brodie found Mr. Ferrer, Bev.”

  “Oh! Well, thank you. Is thank you the right thing to say? Can I be grateful that you did find the poor man’s body rather than leaving it to the nasty ravages of the sea?”

  “I’m sure he would have been found by someone from Sea Life,” Brodie said. “But I happened to be exploring that deck and... I’m glad he’s been found, as well. As quickly as possible. And, of course, we’ll hope to solve this quickly, as well. Ease whatever pain can be eased for the family.”

  Bev Atkins sniffed. “He was the last of his family. Except for his little daughter, five years old, who is being raised by a very good friend. Well, actually, the child’s mother. All I know is her first name—Adelaide. Mr. Ferrer was a different persuasion, sexually, and he told me that he’d had a fling trying to prove that he wasn’t... Oh, he was such a lovely man! I can’t believe the way we came to chat when he was with me such a brief period of time. People do terrible things to other people.”

  “We will do our best for him, Bev. And you’ve helped so much. We didn’t know who he was,” Liam said.

  “We had nothing on him at all, and now, thanks to you, we have someplace to start,” Brodie added, and then flushed slightly. He was still just a guest here. No, he decided. Liam was letting him in.

  He had found the body.

  This was his case, too.

  “You might talk to the people at Sea Life,” Bev said. “Oh, and Kody! He must have had an appointment with Kody. He wanted her to have the documents and everything for the museum. I mean, it’s her museum, but she’s done all the right legal maneuvering to make sure that what she has there that’s precious and historical is not lost, but turned over to other institutions in case she has trouble. Arnold had talked to her—had to have been her, I’m pretty sure. Her little assistant doesn’t do the talking to folks about what does and doesn’t go in the museum. Oh, dear. Kody worked so hard for that museum. She’s such a great girl...and Cliff Bullard last night, too. Poor thing. It’s all just horrible!”

  Kody McCoy again. But of course, Key West could be a very small place.

  “Do you know of anyone we can contact?” Liam asked Bev.

  “No,” Bev said sadly. She brightened. “But I do have his home address.”

  “Thank you, Bev. Thank you so much,” Liam said.

  “I guess... I guess that’s it,” Bev said. She turned toward the door that led from Liam’s office. She paused and looked back at Brodie. “Welcome to the Keys!” she said dryly. Then she shook her head. “I’m so sorry that you came here for all this!”

  “I’ve been here before,” he assured her. “I love Key West.”

  “But all this...”

  “All this will be solved,” he told her.

  She glanced at Liam.

  “Brodie is a private investigator,” Liam explained.

  Bev was still just staring at Brodie. She took his hands in hers. “Yes, well, I guess that’s it. But there’s something more. Something special about you, young man.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “I’m psychic,” Bev assured him seriously. “I know,” she added in a whisper.

  “Again, thank you,” Brodie said.

  When she left, Liam shook his head. “Well, we know who the victim was—I wish to hell I knew why someone would want to kill him. The ship? Something to do with the ship?”

  “He wanted things in the open—he wanted his documents given to the museum. He wanted to feel better about himself—and his family.”

  “Maybe someone didn’t want those documents out in the open? But it’s so far in the past.”

  “Then again, maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the ship.”

  “What else then?” Liam asked, shaking his head.

  “Damned if I know—just playing the devil’s advocate,” Brodie told him.

  “Well, nowhere else to start. Want to come with me?”

  “Where to?”

  “Time to check out Sea Life.”

  And Brodie hoped, maybe, in a bit, time to talk to Kody McCoy again.

  Because they needed to find out if she knew anything.

  And because he wanted to see her again.

  * * *

  Kody had gone through Cliff’s clothing, folding it all in little piles for Rosy. While it seemed that Rosy was trying to move forward—at a frantic pace that might just get her through the loss—Kody wanted everything as neat and easy to see as possible, just in case there was something Rosy wanted to keep. Kody couldn’t know if there was something that had more significance than the rest.

  She left at last, realizing that the hours had gone by very quickly. The afternoon was waning. She’d been there since early morning, and she’d barely seen Rosy.

  She left the bedroom and hurried out to the porch sunroom in back.

  Rosy had been industriously painting, just as Kody had suggested.

  “What do you think?” she asked happily.

  “I think it’s great,” Kody said, studying the painting. Rosy had found a great snapshot of Cliff to work from. He was standing in front of the brick walls of Fort Zachary Taylor in dashing pirate attire, a sign reading “Pirate Days!” behind him.

  Cliff had loved playing pirate.

  There was even a stuffed parrot on his shoulder.

  Rosy had turned the snapshot into a colorful and fun painting. Cliff’s enthusiasm for life seemed to be fully visible in his eyes. His stance was cocky—Cliff could be cocky. Shy, too. He had been fond of fun and teasing others, but never in a way that was hurtful.

  “Seriously—it’s really great,” Kody repeated.

  She almost jumped at the sound of a knock at the door. Rosy frowned and looked at Kody, a hint of panic in her eyes.

  “I know I should have people in. We should all sit around. We should talk about Cliff. But I’m not ready. I don’t want neighbors bringing casseroles. I... I need to be alone right now. Oh, not you, Kody—being with you is fine. Or if one of our close friends came by...”

  “I’ll get it,” Kody assured her.

  She went to the door.
Peeking out the peephole, she saw that Emory Clayton had come; he was, as usual, dressed in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, a sailor’s cap pulled low over his forehead. Emory was a shoo-in for the Hemingway contest each year. He refused to enter, saying that he might be a “freshwater Conch,” but, in his mind, he was all Conch, and the contest was to bring down more and more tourists.

  He was rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully, which meant he was uneasy. Sometimes, it was difficult and uncomfortable to be a friend—and to worry about saying the right things.

  She quickly opened the door and gave him an encouraging smile. “Come on in. I know that Rosy will be anxious to see you.”

  “Kody, I’m so glad you’re here. Is it all right if I come in?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I am.”

  He walked in just as Rosy came out to the entry. “Emory,” she said softly. “Thank you so much for coming over.”

  “Oh, Rosy, I’m so sorry!”

  “I am, too.”

  They stood apart for an awkward moment, then Emory took a step, and Rosy moved over to him, and they hugged. For a moment he was stiff, and then he was natural. “Rosy, we all loved him. But of course, none of us was...you.”

  “And he loved you. He was blessed with such good friends,” Rosy said.

  “I just thought that I’d come by...sit with you for a while,” Emory said.

  “That’s lovely. Kody just went through Cliff’s clothing... I’m painting.”

  “Will it make you nervous if I sit and watch?” Emory asked.

  “It would be lovely,” Rosy said.

  It was a cue to be able to leave if Kody had ever heard one, knowing Rosy wouldn’t be on her own.

  “Okay, then... I’ll go on and get some things done,” Kody said. “Rosy, you call me if you need anything,” she added.

  “I’ll be here,” Emory said, as if assuring her that she had done her time; it was his part now as a friend to be there.

  Kody gave Emory a quick kiss on the cheek and then hugged Rosy back. “He loved you so—like the daughter he never had,” Rosy told her.

  Kody slipped outside. The sudden feeling of relief made her ashamed, but sad to say, it was true—it was hard to handle someone else’s grief.

  * * *

  “Where was I?” Ewan Keegan asked, appearing perplexed.

  They were at the Sea Life offices on Whitehead. Ewan was at his desk; he’d greeted Brodie and Liam with a bit of anxiety and expectation, but now he was realizing that he was actually being queried as a possible suspect.

  “The night before last was when our victim was killed, according to the best time schedule our ME can give us,” Liam said.

  Ewan stared at Brodie—as if he, as a friend, should have been able to explain that, beyond a doubt, he hadn’t murdered anyone.

  “Ewan, forgive us,” Brodie said. “It’s standard procedure. The man’s name, we know now, was Arnold Ferrer. He was here with documents pertaining to the ship. You’re one of the main contacts for Sea Life. These questions have to be asked. They’ll eliminate you as a suspect and help lead to the right direction.”

  Brodie hoped that he had managed to be truthful—and placating.

  “Night before last... I called you at nine,” he told Brodie. “You had just driven down from Miami, and we were talking about the dive.”

  “What about before and after nine?” Liam asked.

  “Before?” Ewan blinked, thinking about the question. “I ate in the hotel restaurant off Sunset Pier—and the waitress was Lizzy Smith. I know she’ll remember that I was there. Oh, I was there when I called Brodie and found out that he had arrived, and then...” He was thoughtful, and then he perked up again. “I was out late. There was a great band at the Irish place on Duval. I was there until about midnight. And then—then I went home. And I live alone. In a house. I don’t know how to prove anything beyond that.”

  “That’s all,” Liam said. “What about your coworkers?”

  “We have six full-time divers—that includes me, head of the dive team. We also have four men on board working with the equipment, and I know that they can attest for one another, but I’ll give you a list of the names of everyone involved. After we finish for the day—around seven most of the time—the divers usually chill out and head to the island. Only the four techs stay on board overnight. Thing is, the guys on the ship—unless they all conspired to murder this man, and God could only know why they would—are pretty much dumbfounded. Well, you know, Liam, you were there when we assisted the police divers bringing up the body. It was sad and interesting, what with following the PADI rules for rate of ascension. But, on top of one dead body, we didn’t want anyone having decompression sickness. If you recall, we talked about it with the staff on ship after we brought the body up.”

  “I know,” Liam said.

  “Thing is,” Brodie added quietly, “the body got there somehow. When you’re diving with your guys, most of the time, the techs can see you, right?”

  “One of us travels with a camera—and I always have a communication mask. We don’t all have them. One day we will. Sea Life is nonprofit. We work on low budgets.”

  “I’m sure we’ll discover that Sea Life wasn’t responsible,” Liam said. “We have to talk to everyone. You understand that.”

  “Yeah,” Ewan said. He didn’t sound sure. “What kind of documents did he have? Why would anyone kill him over that? He was trying to make sure that people saw how horrible that history was—just how cruelly people were treated. He wanted to expose his ancestor... It’s not as though he was trying to hide anything.”

  “We’ll study the documents soon. We just found out his identity and where he was staying,” Brodie said.

  “We have people in there now, acquiring his things. Maybe the documents will give us a clue,” Liam said.

  “And maybe we’ll find out that he was killed for a reason that had nothing to do with the ship,” Brodie said.

  Ewan just shook his head. “Tragic. Whatever, however, just tragic. And then...”

  “And then?” Liam asked.

  “Well, Cliff dropping dead the same damned night.”

  “Cliff is a major loss to all of us. But this man, Arnold Ferrer...he was murdered. In cold blood. We have to find the truth.”

  Liam was a good cop, Brodie knew. A really good, dedicated cop.

  But he couldn’t help wondering himself if it wasn’t too much of a coincidence.

  Both men dead on the same day.

  Then again, how could they be related?

  Ewan passed a paper across the table. “Four techs, six divers. These are their names—along with the places they’re staying. Only Josh Gable and I are at our own residences. The others opted for the Sand Castle—it’s just off Front Street. Easy for them to get to the ship and back, and close enough to restaurants, groceries, all that. You should be able to reach them all easily. No one was at the site today except for the police divers.”

  “Yes, I know. And I’ll be going down myself tomorrow,” Liam said.

  “Not to be a jerk when a man died, but...when are we able to get back down?” Ewan asked.

  “Should be the day after,” Liam said. “Don’t worry—we will figure it all out.”

  “Wish to hell I believed it would ever make sense,” Ewan said.

  “It may never make sense,” Brodie told him. “Murder—it seldom makes sense. But I believe that Liam and his team will get to the truth—however senseless it might be.”

  * * *

  It was hard for Kody to imagine that just a day ago she and her friends had been congratulating themselves on a first-time festival that had gone so incredibly well. Everyone from musicians to visual artists, writers to performers, had been so willing and ready to collaborate with one another.

>   She’d been busy keeping a hundred plus people happy—but she’d been so happy and amazed herself.

  She was proud of her museum.

  It has once been an old Victorian house, complete with a porch and columns, whitewashed and inviting—even if it was almost flush with the building next to it.

  The door was open—as it should have been, it wasn’t six o’clock yet—and she went in. Colleen was seated at the desk, working on an inventory sheet. She looked up, ready to greet the public—as in a paying customer—and then her smile turned a little sad as she saw Kody.

  “Hey. I did tell you not to worry,” she said.

  “I wasn’t worried. Emory is staying with Rosy now. I was there all day and...I guess I just wanted to come by. The place is still new to me and sometimes, I can’t believe it myself that I actually got it open.”

  “Well, if it helps you, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You look especially pretty today,” Kody told her. Colleen was a pretty girl—she just usually seemed to have that knack for downplaying herself.

  Colleen flushed, glancing toward the door that led into the exhibit rooms. The main rooms included one dedicated to pre-European times, one dedicated to the colonists who arrived from Europe and various nearby islands, one to the changing flags of Key West, one dedicated to the pirate days that became the rich time of the wreckers, one room to the 1800s and the Civil War, and one dedicated to the sinking of the Maine and modern days. Two fun rooms were dedicated to the strange events that had occurred in Key West, and the hauntings and ghost stories, and there was a big gallery for local artists and musicians, the many creators in all their forms who had come from the island or spent time there, working and contributing to the culture of Key West.

  Her father’s history and work were included in that room.

  “We have guests still?” Kody asked.

  Colleen smiled proudly. “Ten still in there. I told them not to worry—we don’t let anyone in after six, but they were welcome to stay. I’m not going anywhere tonight, so it doesn’t really matter. I mean, that’s all right—right?”