Brodie lifted the guitar. He played a little. He’d never be considered much of a musician, but he did love the instrument.
“A Fender,” he said.
“He traveled with that guitar—yes, his Fender. He had others, one that had belonged to a famous guitar player, and I can’t remember which. He took very good care of his instruments.”
Brodie hit a few chords. It was perfectly in tune. Even the man’s travel guitar was a good guitar.
He set it down and turned back to Adelaide and Liam. “Do you have pictures of your little girl? And of Arnie?”
“Oh, of course! In this digital age?” Adelaide asked.
He smiled. “Of course.”
She pulled out her cell phone—a nice big one—and touched the screen to bring up her gallery of pictures. Liam and Brodie came to stand by her. “There’s Arnie, holding Haley at a toddler’s gym, and there he is with her at the fair... Oh, and there he’s playing with friends at his service club. And here...well, that was the two of us about seven years ago...”
It was a nice picture. They’d taken a “photo op” at Walt Disney World. A castle rose high behind them, along with shooting fireworks. They were arm in arm, Adelaide looked lovely in a cool white halter dress, and Arnie handsome in Mickey Mouse T-shirt and black jeans.
“Mind if I keep going?” Brodie asked her.
“Not at all!”
One picture had Arnie in front of a giant stage.
“Where was this?” Brodie asked.
“Oh, the arena. One of his favorite old ’80s bands was playing and he knew one guy in the group and—it was amazing—they let him come up and play,” Adelaide said.
“You don’t know what group?” Liam asked her.
She shook her head. “It was right before we met, actually. I saw the pic on one of his social media pages and just loved it. I downloaded it to my own page, and I keep it... I keep it in with these. Oh, I’m not trying to come off as if I weren’t traumatized when I realized I was in love with a man who did love me—but had no interest in me sexually. I had to wrestle with my own demons, but his were so much worse. It was good then that he didn’t have any family left—he said that his father was one of the homophobic men who would have rather seen him...dead than gay,” she added in a whisper. Then she grew angry. “What a foolish man! I wonder how much of his son’s real love he lost before he died.”
“Well, hopefully, we’ve reached an age where we’re learning not to be so foolish,” Liam said. He sat across from her again. “Miss Firestone—”
“Adelaide.”
“Adelaide, please. I need you to keep thinking. I know that you’ve been thinking of little else since you received word about Arnold, but... You’ve already given us so much today. No matter how small you think it is, we need to know.”
“Definitely. I’ll be here a few days. I’ve spoken to the medical examiner—he said he can release Arnie to the funeral home as soon as I’ve made arrangements. I’m going to have him embalmed down here, and then take him home. I’m putting him with my family—we go back forever in Georgia, and we’re just out of the city of Atlanta and have a beautiful and peaceful graveyard... Anyway, I’ll be here another few days. In fact, I’ll check with you before I leave. Calling well before the plane.”
“Thank you,” Liam told her.
They both headed to the door of her room.
“Hey. Can you tell me some things to do on the island? I should have gotten a book. I just—wasn’t thinking.”
“Of course,” Liam said. “The little aquarium, the Conch Tour train. The Mel Fisher Museum, a walking tour, Ripley’s.”
“And we have a friend who owns a museum. It was just opened,” Brodie said.
“Haunts and History,” she said. “That’s where Arnie was going to donate his documents.”
“Right,” Liam said.
“Thank you for reminding me. I wouldn’t want to leave without going there—without seeing her, meeting her.”
She studied Brodie for a long minute. “You’re not a detective,” she said. “But you were introduced to me by Detective Beckett as a private eye. Who are you working for?”
Brodie took a deep breath. “I found Arnold Ferrer, Adelaide. I’m working for him,” he said softly.
She smiled. Tears sprang into her eyes again. “Thank you.”
* * *
It was a strange day, indeed. A funeral, a dead woman, and Cliff...incredibly capable of appearing to others, but only managing to give a shivery chill to the woman he loved.
They were almost down to the last of the mourners at the reception.
“Colleen,” Kody said, “you’re more than welcome to come to my house for a while, too. Kelsey and I will just be...there.”
“I’d love to come to your place for a bit,” Colleen said. “You don’t need to go with Rosy, or do you? I think more than one or two people will be too much for her after today, but you may be the one person she wants.”
“I’ll ask, but I think we’re good,” Kody said.
Kody walked over to check.
“Are you doing okay?” she asked Rosy.
Rosy nodded. “I’m good. Sonny is going to be staying with me.”
Sonny smiled at Kody. “I don’t have a house down here anyway. Actually, I never need to have a house when I’m here—I have so many good friends.” She squeezed Rosy’s shoulder.
“We’ll see them safely tucked in,” Emory said. “Bill and me, we’ll walk them home.”
“Good night, then,” Kody said.
She started away from the table. Rosy called her back. “Kody?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you again. I mean, the McCoy tomb is really one of the finest in the cemetery. I especially love the guardian angels at the entry. But mostly, whatever the next step might be, I’m grateful that Cliff is lying next to your dad.”
“My dad would like that, too, Rosy. He always loved having his real friends around.”
Kelsey and Colleen had already risen as well and were waiting their turns to give Rosy their sympathy and best wishes again.
“We’ll be getting all kinds of pictures up and information about Cliff,” Colleen said. “He’ll be in the display for famous men and women of Key West! I know that Kody will have him up, and we’ll have his songs right along with Jimmy Buffett, her dad, and the rest!” She flushed suddenly. “I mean, I know Kody will, and I’ll help her every step of the way.”
“Thank you,” Rosy said. She glanced at Kody, maybe a little amused. Colleen had been coming into her own; the last time Rosy had stopped by the museum, Colleen had been shy and awkward and almost afraid to speak with her.
“Oh, and I love your artwork, too!” Colleen said.
Again, Rosy thanked her.
Kelsey gave Rosy a kiss and a hug and bid the others good-night. Then, the three of them left. Kody felt a little badly—maybe she should have stayed until Rosy and her crew had left, until the very end. But Rosy was in good hands.
In a way, it was a bit tricky that Colleen had chosen to come with them; alone, Kody could have said just about anything to Kelsey. She wanted to be careful around Colleen. Still, she thought it was important that Colleen knew that she wasn’t alone in the world, and that she did have friends. She was glad that Colleen had been getting out. But that wasn’t the same as being with steady friends who lived near her.
When they reached her place, Kody brought Kelsey and Colleen into her living room and parlor. There had been food and drinks all day, but it seemed the natural thing to offer coffee and tea.
Kody went about fixing the drinks. She had a box of shortbread and decided that she would set them out, too.
When she carried the little tray holding all out to the living room, she was surprised to see Kelsey looking a little pained—and Colleen leaning toward her as if she had j
ust divulged a great secret.
“Um...drinks,” Kody said, looking at Kelsey.
Kelsey cleared her throat. “Colleen was just telling me that she is certain that Cliff Bullard is still with us.”
“Oh?” Kody said, looking at Colleen.
Colleen nodded solemnly.
“You’ve—seen his ghost?” she asked.
Colleen shook her head, and then frowned. “No, you remember the dream I told you about? Somehow, today, I started thinking that the man in my dream was Cliff.”
“I see,” Kody murmured.
“And I sense...something,” Colleen said.
“Well, if he is a ghost, he’s a good one,” Kody said.
Colleen remained solemn.
“I think I know why he’s still here,” Colleen said.
“You do? And why?”
She waited to hear Colleen declare that she believed Cliff had been murdered.
“He’s here because he loved his Rosy so much. And he’s here...like an angel. Just to help poor girls like me, helping out.”
“A flirty ghost,” Kody murmured.
“Oh, no! An angel of a ghost!” Colleen said.
As she spoke, the “angel of a ghost” joined them, walking through the doorway from the hall as if he were alive and well and solid flesh.
Colleen put her hand to her heart. “He’s here! I think he’s here. And I will love him forever!”
“Bravo,” Cliff said. He beamed at Kelsey and Kody.
Then his smile faded, his expression lost and hopeless.
“I wish... I wish that’s why I was here. But...I know now. I don’t know for certain. But I’m starting to think I might even know exactly who murdered me.”
14
Brodie had spoken to Liam about the discoveries Angela had made.
And although Brodie was finding it impossible to imagine that Ewan Keegan could have murdered anyone in cold blood, they’d have to follow the lead and confirm his alibi, considering where the GPS placed his boat.
“Damn. She’s good,” Liam said. “My squad has been hoofing it around, trying to find out what boats might have been out in the area. And as for Bill... We’d never have known. I’m going to say they both need to be interviewed. Oh, yes, and then tomorrow, a trip up to Marathon for another autopsy.”
“Then maybe we should stop in on one of them tonight,” Brodie said.
Liam hesitated. “I have a better idea. Let’s actually get something to eat.”
“You want to go to that seafood restaurant Ewan said he was at the other night?”
“And then we can barhop. We can bring Bill in tomorrow. He and Emory and Sonny seemed to be heading to Rosy’s house with her.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Brodie agreed.
The restaurant was down on Duval, about a block south of Front Street. Liam was greeted warmly by the hostess, who obviously knew him.
“Is Lizzy working tonight?” Liam asked.
“She is.” The hostess looked at Liam with worried eyes. “She spoke to an officer yesterday, I think. Nothing is wrong?”
“No, no, Lizzy is great,” Liam said.
The hostess studied Brodie as well, smiled and led them to a table.
A moment after they sat, a woman came over to them. She had a broad smile, blond hair cut in a short bob, and big green eyes. “Liam, hey. And...hello. Welcome!”
“Thanks. What’s good tonight, Lizzy?” Liam asked.
“The grouper special.”
“I’ll have it.”
“I will, too,” Brodie said.
“Right away. Anything to drink?” she asked.
“Iced tea?” Brodie asked.
“Sure thing.”
Liam ordered the same. “Lizzy, I need to ask you some questions.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “You know, I talked to the police already, Liam.”
“Yep. But I just wanted to talk to you myself.”
She nodded, glancing around at her other tables. She seemed satisfied that everyone was doing well. “Okay,” she said. She looked at Brodie. “Are you a new cop down here?”
“Private investigator,” Brodie said.
“Oh. Oh! You’re the man who found the body.”
“Yes,” Brodie said.
“That wasn’t on the news,” Liam said.
Lizzy laughed. “It was on the ‘Keys’ news. Someone from the ship told someone in a shop and you know how that goes!”
“Ah, yes,” Liam murmured. “So, how was Ewan that night? He was here, right?”
“He was here, alone. He was...Ewan. Nice, polite, reading away the whole time he was here.”
“He didn’t look anxious—as if he was waiting to meet anyone or anything like that?” Brodie asked her.
“Nope. He had one of his dive magazines for company. Like I said, he was courteous, he was...Ewan. Not a big talker, but just fine. Wish all our customers were like him. Did you guys really want the grouper?” she asked them.
“Yes, we’re just about starving,” Brodie said.
“We forgot to eat today,” Liam explained.
“Oh, yes...the funeral was today. I got to the wake last night... Cliff was such a great guy. I guess he’s up in that great jam session in the sky!” she said.
She started to head into the kitchen to put in their order.
“Hey, how late was Ewan here?” Liam asked her.
“Nine? Quarter of nine—or nine-fifteen. Somewhere in there,” she said. “Is that good? You want your food?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“How the hell could he have been on his boat if he was here?” Brodie asked Liam quietly.
“We’ll see if they remember him as well at the Irish bar,” Liam said. “We know from Adelaide that Ferrer was excited, that he was going to go out and meet someone. Whoever he met must have lured him out somehow—and then killed him.”
“Or, whoever was going to meet him was overheard—and Arnold Ferrer went with this person, headed back to the bed-and-breakfast, and was ambushed by someone else.”
Liam glared at him. “That isn’t helping.”
Plates of fresh grouper excellently prepared arrived; they ate, barely speaking. And when they were done, they thanked Lizzy for her help, and headed out, walking down the street to the Irish bar.
Music was playing loudly. Most of the crowd within was young, mostly tourists.
“It’s not that locals don’t like this place—they do. They just usually come out when it’s a little quieter,” Liam shouted to Brodie.
“I imagine,” Brodie said.
They made their way to the bar, an oblong in the middle of the restaurant. There was a bandstand where the group was playing—old ’80s hits, so it seemed—and tables all about. Immediately around the bar, though, there were no tables. It was the dance area.
Making their way through was interesting.
Lots of bopping, bumping and very happy slightly inebriated girls made a maze of their path. They smiled as they cut through; Brodie very politely extricated himself when one very happy young lady slipped her arms around his neck, determined that he would dance with her.
“Hey!” Liam called to the bartender.
“Hey!” the bartender called back. Brodie thought he might as well be Ireland himself; he had fire-red hair, freckles and hazel eyes. He was finishing up with his mixology—very impressive as he tossed shakers into the air and caught them with the skill of a juggler—but headed over to Liam right after he’d passed over the drinks.
“Liam, how you doing? This has to be a professional call, I’m thinkin’.”
The man’s speech was a lilting brogue; his smile was genuine and seemed to emphasize his red hair and sparking eyes.
“Sorry, Sean, it is,” Liam said. “This is m
y friend, Brodie McFadden.”
“McFadden, pleasure,” the bartender said.
They shook hands.
“We’re here about Ewan Keegan,” Brodie said.
“Oh, aye, yes. Some of your coppers already asked me about him, Liam,” Sean said gravely.
“Bartender!” someone called.
“A minute.” Sean excused himself.
He was back quickly, having only had to hand over a few bottled beers. He studied Brodie. “You’re the chap found the body, eh?”
Brodie nodded. “Everyone knows,” he said dryly.
“Well, now, there’s not that many six-foot-plus men with dark hair and brick shoulders walking around with Liam, eh? Aye, of course, the word is out. A murder, you know? A man found dead on a slave ship. Aye, everyone would be talking about it.”
“You talked to officers about Ewan. I know you told them that he was here the night before we found the body.”
Sean nodded. “Oh, indeed. I served him myself.”
“Do you know how long he was here?” Liam asked.
“Oh, he was here a bit—standing right over there, watching the band. We had a group in from Dublin. Ewan was loving them.”
“How late was he here?” Brodie asked. “Did you see him with anyone else?”
Sean laughed. “Did I see him with anyone else? You know that group you passed through to reach me? The place was even crazier that night. He talked to lots of people. He was dancing—I happened to notice him because of where he was standing.”
“Any idea of what time he left?”
“I’m thinkin’ it was midnight.”
“Hey, Irish!” someone called.
Sean winced. “Okay?”
“Yes, yes, go to work. And thank you,” Liam said.
Brodie nodded a thanks, as well. They left the bar, and headed out.
“So, Ewan’s boat’s GPS puts him near the Victoria Elizabeth the night that Arnold Ferrer was murdered and taken down to the ship. But witnesses have him in the restaurant and bar.”
“I’m going to have to get back to Angela. The question is going to be precisely when,” Brodie said. He paused, looking at Liam. “You know, though, there’s one thing I know about Ewan Keegan that might...might wind up clearing him as much as his alibi corroborations.”
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