Echoes of Evil

by Heather Graham

  He walked down the hall to the office; Kody was busy, concentrating as she wrote.

  Back in the bedroom, he set his gun and small holster he wore when working on the side table, and lay down, staring at the ceiling.

  He thought about the wake, all the people on the island who had come out to pay Cliff their respects.

  Even the crew from Sea Life.

  Cliff had never been out on the Memory. He’d never worked with the Sea Life crew. He had no affiliation with the ship.

  One man strangled. One man dead of a severe allergy he knew well.

  As did those who knew him well.

  Arnold Ferrer had loved his guitar.

  Were they related through the ship somehow—or through music?

  Kody entered the room. “Done,” she whispered, and she closed the door and turned off the lights.

  He could hear her shedding her clothing in the darkness.

  She came to the bed and crawled over him. He tasted her naked flesh, his kisses soft caresses against the silken feel of her.

  She moved in his arms.

  And he forgot the rest of the world.

  * * *

  Once again, it seemed that half the island had turned out to honor Cliff.

  Including Cliff himself. Kody, standing by the front pew, acknowledged his presence with a warning stare. He smiled and shrugged.

  He waited as Rosy entered the church, Bill Worth and Emory Clayton escorting her, each man holding one of her arms.

  They led Rosy to the front pew, where she sat down, unknowingly right next to Cliff. Both men nodded at Kody. They were leaving Rosy in her care then, heading to the front to welcome other guests as they arrived for the service.

  Cliff set an arm around Rosy.

  Rosy shivered.

  She looked up at Kody. “This is real,” she whispered. “This is...this is...real.”

  Kody could think of nothing to say. Cliff was watching her, heartsick.

  “Tell her how much I loved her, Kody,” he pleaded.

  “Rosy, he loved you so much,” Kody said.

  Rosy nodded. “I’m cold,” she said. “Why is it so cold in here?”

  Cliff lowered his head, anguished. “She can’t see me, Kody. She can’t feel my love. I just make her frightened and cold.”

  Kody couldn’t speak to him. He stood and moved away, just watching Rosy, so Kody took the seat next to her, putting an arm around her.

  As the church began to fill, she looked around for Brodie. She saw him at the back, deep in conversation with Liam.

  People began to sit, and soon, the church was full.

  The priest welcomed them, and proceeded with the service.

  It came time for Kody to read her eulogy. She found that she barely referred to her notes. She was able to speak from the heart. Once again, she talked about Cliff’s laughing, his joking, his teasing, and his flirting—and his incredible ability to make all those around him feel good. He had the knack for saying the right thing—because he did care. He loved humanity in general; he gave his all to his friends, his beloved Rosy, and the beauty of his soul came through in his music.

  Since she knew Cliff really was listening, she told him some things she wished she’d been able to tell him while he was alive. How much she loved him and was grateful for his presence in her life.

  When she was done, she was happy; she thought that she had epitomized the best of the man; he didn’t move mountains, he just gave the best of himself, true caring, true generosity, and thoughtfulness for others before himself.

  At the end of her speech, she made eye contact with Brodie, and he gave her a look that told her she had spoken beautifully.

  Then it was time to leave the church.

  She discovered that Brodie—along with Liam, Emory, Bill, Frank and Sonny—had been asked to be a pallbearer and “carry” the coffin from the church to the waiting hearse. The coffin was actually on rollers; it was fine for Sonny to be along with the stronger, larger company.

  Michael McCoy’s ancestors had built the beautiful vault in the cemetery just years after the cemetery had opened. It was beautiful and large, with handsome Victorian lines and angels above the iron gates.

  The priest said prayers again as Cliff was interred next to Kody’s father.

  Kody stood there and wondered if—when, perhaps, Cliff went on, or even the captain, someday—they could tell her father just how much she had loved him.

  As she stood there, and Cliff’s earthly remains were set into the vault, Cliff came to stand by Kody.

  “I’m so sorry. It must hurt you to be here.”

  “It’s all right,” she murmured aloud.

  Bill Worth, standing nearby, turned to look at her. “You okay, Kody?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should sing for him, sing the song he loved so much,” Emory said.

  She shook her head. A few of Cliff’s musician friends had come; they were playing “Amazing Grace.”

  Kody stood very still, the ghost by her side.

  Why can I see so many, and not my dad?

  She felt movement around her—from the living. Her mother was by her then, placing an arm over her shoulders.

  The distracting note of a cell phone was almost covered by the music.

  Liam’s phone; frowning, he moved away to answer it.

  He motioned to Brodie.

  The priest invited the attendees to the Drunken Pirate for a celebration in honor of Cliff’s life.

  Kody turned and hugged her mom. “You okay?” she whispered.

  Sally hugged her. “They’re together. I like to think that there’s a lovely jam session going on somewhere.”

  Cliff heard her. “Cool, yes...one day. A lovely jam session.”

  “Are you going with Rosy in the car to the Drunken Pirate?” Sally asked.

  “I...”

  Kody hesitated. She could see that Brodie was still talking to Liam. And she knew, even before she walked over to talk to him, that something else had happened.

  “What is it?” she asked, walking up between the two men.

  Brodie looked at her. “Another body,” he said.

  Her heart seemed to skip a beat.

  “Where? How?”

  “It just washed up on the beach, near Ft. Zachary Taylor,” Liam said.

  “Who?” Kody whispered.

  “We don’t know yet. I just got the call. A tourist saw some seaweed or a dead sea creature was in the waves and started pulling the seaweed...and then called 911,” Liam explained. “I have to go. Kelsey will see you at the Drunken Pirate, and I’ll be there as soon as I can...”

  “Was it a man...a woman...young, old?” Kody asked.

  “This time, it’s a woman. Fifties, so my officer believes,” Liam said.

  “You’re going with him?” Kody asked Brodie. “You must go with him.”

  “Kody, it looks like a drowning,” Liam told her. “As sad as is any loss, we do lose people to the ocean, and every year, we have accidents on US 1, and there’s no reason to believe that this death is associated in any way with Arnold—or Cliff.”

  She looked at Brodie sternly. “Go with him,” she said softly. “I’ll be at the reception, whenever you two finish. Go, please—and find out what the hell is happening down here.”

  Brodie nodded.

  She turned and left them, walking over to where Cliff was standing, a distance off, watching as his friends left the cemetery to head to the reception. Some had their heads bowed.

  There were more than a few tears being shed.

  “Cliff...” she said sympathetically.

  “Someone else dead, huh?”

  “An accident, they believe. A drowning.”

  “Right.” He turned to her. “You know, people party
down here. There are accidents on the road. Bizarre things do happen. But now this? Three deaths in a row? Like hell. Kody, something wrong sure in tarnation is going on down here. And, so help me, I will haunt the hell out of this island until we find out what.”

  11

  It was a perfectly beautiful day, sun shining, gentle waves washing over the sand. The tide had brought great piles of seaweed to rest on the beach. And crime scene tape cordoned off a border that kept onlookers from the body that had also been brought ashore.

  As Brodie followed Liam past the small crowd and over to the body, he saw that officers guarded the yellow-tape barrier, and one watched over the body.

  “Another day in paradise, huh?” Liam murmured. He shook his head. “Trust me—we’re a party town. We have crime. But this...”

  Brodie was surprised that Liam was suspicious—not even having seen the victim yet.

  “Liam, it could be anything. Someone from a refugee boat, someone just out and partying hard—someone who just went overboard.”

  “Right.”

  They reached the body. Brodie nodded an acknowledgment to the officer standing by; if he wondered why Liam was allowing him on the site, he gave no sign. Brodie figured that being with the sheriff gave him all access.

  The medical examiner down from Marathon that day was Dr. Sheila Green. She was hunkered down, but looked up when Liam walked up and introduced Brodie. Dr. Green was an African American woman of about forty, almost bone thin and currently grim. “So sad. I’d say at the moment, it’s a drowning. She’s in a one piece as you can see—but she’s been in overnight. Probably washed up late last night, and drowned shortly before. And exact time is going to be hard to pin—since she’s been in the sea.”

  Liam and Brodie both squatted down by her. The ME had moved the hair from the victim’s face. She had been a small woman, about five-foot-two, Brodie estimated. Not heavy, but rounded. Her skin already showed signs of crab or fish nibbles. Liam shooed one away as it emerged from the seaweed that still surrounded her; the body hadn’t been moved since she had been discovered.

  Brodie noticed something.

  “Her fingers,” he pointed out.

  “Her fingers?” The ME took a gloved hand and gently raised one of the dead woman’s hands.

  “Callused...there,” Brodie said. “She was a guitar player.”

  “Possibly,” the ME agreed. “There are other ways to callus your fingers, but...yes, possibly.”

  “How long since she was discovered now?”

  “About an hour and a half. I happened to be down here—that’s how I took the call,” Dr. Green said.

  The officer, patiently standing by, broke his silence. “Our first call was exactly one hour and twenty-one minutes ago,” he told Liam. “The woman who discovered her is still right back there in the patrol car.”

  “All right, thank you. Can you get her up—any possibility of an autopsy today?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Dr. Green said.

  Liam rose and Brodie did likewise. He’d studied the body the best he could, as it lay. No visible scars—and no blood anywhere on the body. Her heart had stopped beating long before she’d washed up on the sand. She’d had a round, heart-shaped face, and generous lips. The slight wrinkling around them suggested that she’d smiled a lot.

  “Sorry to say, but I think we’re going to discover that she was out on some kind of a party boat,” Dr. Green said, rising as well. “Most of our problems down here have to do with alcohol or partying that got out of control.”

  “Officer Whitney,” Liam said. “Have we had any reports of a missing person off a party boat—or any missing reports, period, overnight or recently?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Maybe they haven’t discovered her gone yet,” Dr. Green suggested.

  “A party boat—that doesn’t count heads?” Liam said.

  “A private party?” Brodie put in.

  “She might even have been out alone,” Dr. Green said.

  “Any empty boats out there?” Liam asked.

  “No, sir, no reports from our people or the Coast Guard,” the officer said.

  “Someone has to be missing her,” Liam muttered. “All right, thank you, Dr. Green. I know your office can be busy, but...”

  “I’ll do everything I can,” Dr. Green promised.

  The patrol car was parked farther up the beach, and a woman was seated in the back, the door open, her bare legs extended.

  She was young, barely into her twenties, Brodie thought. A caftan covered her two-piece bathing suit; her feet were adorned with beaded flip-flops. She was sipping coffee, and looked up eagerly as they approached.

  “Oh, my God, you’re the detective I need to speak with, right?” she asked, rising from the car as they approached. “Detectives... Oh, my God, this is so horrible. I never imagined. I’m here with a bachelorette party... I just came out to the beach to walk along the shore...it’s so beautiful. And then I saw a clump of seaweed and I looked down and there was a body in it. I dropped my phone—there was sand all over it!—but then I dialed 911. And I told the man she was dead, and he asked if I was sure, and I said yes, and he said that I should try artificial respiration and I said no, can’t you understand? Dead, dead, dead!” She extended a hand suddenly. “I’m Helen. Helen Harte.”

  “Helen, I’m Detective Beckett. This is Brodie McFadden, a consultant,” Liam told her.

  “Hello. I’ve been here...waiting.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure this must have been a terrible shock for you,” Liam said. “And I’m so sorry you had to go through this. Did you see anything or anyone near her? Were you by the body until police arrived?”

  “I wasn’t by it,” she said. “Oh, my God, no! I didn’t stay by the body! But... I could see it. I could see it. A couple were going to walk by with their children, and I stopped them, of course! I mean, a little kid, seeing something like that...”

  “Did you look at her face?” Brodie asked.

  She shook her head vigorously. “No! There was seaweed... Oh, I swear, I knew she was dead. I mean, I’m not trained, but I would have helped her if there had been any way. I knew she was dead. She was dead...right?” she asked in sudden panic.

  “She was dead,” Brodie assured her quietly.

  “You didn’t recognize her?” Liam asked.

  “No, no... I told you, I’m not from here. Is anybody really from here?” She didn’t want an answer; to her, Key West was where people came to party. It was a tourist destination.

  “A few,” Liam said dryly.

  “Miss, she was definitely dead, and it was good of you to keep the children away,” Brodie said.

  “Thank you, Detective,” she said.

  “I’m not a detective. I’m a private investigator,” Brodie corrected her.

  “Consulting,” Liam murmured. “All right. Was there anyone nearby when you saw her? Boats out on the water.”

  “There were people out on the water, yes...a group on those Sea-Doo things or whatever they are. None of them seemed to see her, or know about her, or have the least interest in the shore.”

  “You’re sure she was no one you knew, anyone with you?” Brodie asked.

  She flushed. “We were up very late last night. I’m here with seven other girls. The rest of my crew is still sleeping. I—I take medication, so I don’t drink. But the rest of those guys...trust me. The woman is not...was not...with me. I just came out for a walk on the beach, and there she was.”

  “Okay, thank you, the officer will see you back to your room,” Liam said. “We have all your information, just in case...”

  “In case of what?” she asked, alarm leaping into her eyes.

  “Just in case there’s something else we haven’t thought of,” Brodie said. “Please, don’t worry. You couldn’t have saved her. Y
ou did the right thing—especially keeping the kids away.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Liam said. He stepped back and indicated that she was free to sit back in the car and leave the scene.

  “I’m right across the street,” she told them, a little baffled.

  “The officer will get you right to the door,” Liam said. “You’re distracted...we don’t want any accidents.”

  “Right! Right! Leave it to me—I’d find a body and then walk into a car and become nothing more than one myself! Thank you, thank you. I’m so sorry. Anyway... I’m going to have one hell of a vacation story!”

  The car door closed. The officer in the front leaned his head down and nodded to Liam.

  Then the car whisked on to the road.

  “No ID on her again—and she was definitely a guitar player,” Brodie noted.

  “Everyone in the Keys is a guitar player,” Liam said. “I sure hope to hell some sick bastard isn’t out for every guitar player on the island—the place will become a pile of corpses.”

  Brodie shook his head. “I don’t think that whoever is doing this is after just any guitar players.”

  “Cliff’s death might still have been some kind of a bizarre accident—one that no one is obviously going to want to admit,” Liam said. “And this woman... We all know people die on the road, thinking that they’re not drunk and they have to get back home. We all know boaters die in South Florida. And we all know that people can party too hardy.”

  “Yes, I understand completely,” Brodie said. “But...”

  “But what?”

  “Usually, when someone is gone through the night, there’s at least someone they were with who notices that they’re gone.”

  * * *

  The reception was going perfectly.

  Colleen had posted a sign on the door, explaining that the bar would be closed for the day due to a death in the family.

  Cliff had been family.

  Kody had found a table for her mom and stepdad, Colleen, Kelsey Beckett and herself. There was room for Liam and Brodie if they should make it before the event ended. The Drunken Pirate was paying for the reception, though Kody knew many people had offered to help. Cliff had done all right during his life—he hadn’t been rich. No one wanted the hardship to fall on Rosy.