by Kathi Daley
“Oh, good. I could use a change. The prices for each type of ticket are listed on the wall. Most people are buying tickets for the haunted house, but there are a few kiddie games along the boardwalk leading to the wharf, so we’re selling tickets for those as well. The haunted house closes at nine, so you might want to cut off selling tickets at eight thirty. Unless, of course, the crowd dissipates between now and then, in which case use your best judgment.”
“It sounds easy enough,” I said as I took in the scent from the food vendors nearby. I was starving. I should have eaten something before we came out to the wharf.
The festival was in full swing by now, so there weren’t many people who needed tickets. In fact, the long line we’d seen when Jack and I first arrived was gone, giving me time to people watch, which was always interesting at events like this. The kids running around with smiles of pure joy on their faces was probably the best part. Some wore costumes, others didn’t, but they all looked to be having the best time. Groups of teens loitered in the area, while young couples with small children were steering them to the kiddie games.
The only thing that caused me to frown was a tall man in a skeleton costume. He had to be at least six-four, and his body as well as his head and face were completely covered by black material outlined in white. I watched him as he strode over to the rear of the haunted house, where the pathway leading from the building hugged the railing. He wasn’t doing anything alarming exactly, but the way he stood, as if scanning the crowd while his face was completely concealed, left me feeling uncomfortable. Besides, there were signs posted informing spectators they couldn’t loiter in the area because they needed to keep the exit clear.
I didn’t suppose it was my job to play security guard. There were men mingling with the crowds wearing badges and carrying flashlights doing that. Yet I couldn’t ignore the presence of the man either, and as far as I could tell there wasn’t a single security guard in sight at that moment. Finally, I decided to walk over and speak to him. Maybe I’d recognize his voice, although I was pretty sure I didn’t know anyone quite that tall.
Keeping my eye on the ticket booth, I trotted over to where he was standing. “Hello,” I said. “My name is Jill. I’m a volunteer. I’m afraid we can’t allow anyone to stand in the path of the exit. It’s a safety issue. I hope you understand.”
“I’m just waiting.”
The man’s voice was deep and unfamiliar. I was sure we’d never met.
“I completely understand. A lot of parents choose to wait for their children out here. There’s a seating section right over there.” I pointed. “Perhaps you can meet whoever you’re waiting for there.”
I couldn’t see his face, but for some reason I pictured him snarling. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just wait here.”
A group of teens walked up to the ticket booth. I knew I should get back, but I hesitated. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to move away from this walkway. As I said, it’s a safety issue.”
The man ignored me, which really made me angry. I was on the verge of using strong language to make my point when I turned around to glance at the ticket booth. One of the teenagers who’d been loitering in the area had opened the door to the booth and was about to step inside. “Oh, geez.” I ran back toward my post. The last thing I needed was for the tickets as well as the income from the evening to go missing on my watch. By the time I shooed the kids off, the man in the skeleton suit was gone. I was glad he was no longer blocking the exit, but an instinctive fear remained in my chest.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, but I was relieved when Brooke showed up to collect my cash box and unused tickets.
“How’d it go?” she asked as she gathered everything together.
“It went well, except when I opened the door to the story room in the haunted house before we were ready and almost got trampled to death, and I had a small confrontation with a tall man dressed as a skeleton who refused to move away from the exit lane you set up from the rear of the cannery.”
Brooke frowned. “You’re the third person to tell me about the man in the skeleton costume. I’ll be sure security knows to watch out for him if he shows up tomorrow. It always makes me nervous when adults dress up for these events. Especially adults who wear costumes that conceal their identities.”
“Maybe you should ban costumes for people over a certain age next year,” I suggested.
“It’s been brought up in the past, but we don’t have a lot of security, and what we do have is usually retired men who’ve offered to pitch in. That makes it hard to enforce a lot of rules.”
I looked out at the throngs of people who were starting to head to the parking area. “Yeah, there are a lot of bodies to keep track of. I wonder if it might be worth it to hire a security company in the future.”
“So far we haven’t had any real problems, but if that changes, we might have to look in to something like that. This is a fund-raiser, though, and a private security company would be expensive. Especially with the festival so spread out. We have events here at the wharf and others by the museum and in the park in town.”
“I guess it would be easier to provide security if everything was in a single location. Of course, that would make parking an issue. It looks like the last group in line for the haunted house just went in. I think I’ll sneak in the back to wait for Jack.”
Brooke put her hand on my arm. “Before you go, I have something to tell you that may help you with your research into Skull Island.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
She closed the door of the little ticket booth so we had a bit of privacy. “I’m not sure if you know her, but Sam Castle has a sister, Viv. She’s married, so her last name is Marsh. Anyway, I ran into her earlier and we got to chatting, and I mentioned that a man who’d been researching the island had been murdered, and apparently, her grandfather told her a lot of really bad stuff happened on the island over the years. I asked about the couple of decades around the turn of the twentieth century, which I understand your writer friend was interested in, and she said that after the hurricane in 1893, the island became all but deserted until some guy brought a bunch of people there to do experiments on them.”
“Experiments?”
“Viv admitted she didn’t know all the details, but some scientist was doing tests on individuals who displayed symptoms of schizophrenia and other mental health issues. She said he brought them to Skull Island and used them as lab rats. It was all done in secrecy, so not a lot of people even know about it, but Viv thought some pretty awful things were done to those people in the name of science. It’s one of those long-held family secrets no one is supposed to talk about, but she didn’t see the harm in sharing it with me because it seemed to her if someone had proof of what was done to those poor people, it might be a reason to want that person dead.”
******
After Jack was done with his zombie duties, we headed to his cabin and scrambled up some eggs rather than going out to eat with zombie makeup all over his face. I picked up Kizzy from the main house, where Garrett and Clara had been babysitting while Jack hopped into the shower.
The idea that mentally disabled individuals had been used as lab rats was disturbing, but despite Brooke’s assertion that knowledge of what had happened to them could be a good motive for murder, I wasn’t sure how it could lead to two men being killed a century later. Chances were the story Brooke had heard had nothing to do with either Bosley or Billy’s deaths, but Jack felt there was enough there to warrant further research, so we were going to have something quick to eat and then settle down at our computers to see what we could dig up.
“So, how was the haunted cannery?” Garrett asked.
I bent down to greet Kizzy, who was doing the abandoned-dog happy dance at my feet. “I was working the entire time and didn’t actually have a chance to walk through, but the wharf area was packed, and it looked as if everyone was having fun. Jack got to be a zombie, so he was a
ble to see the interior of the haunted house; he said it was good and spooky this year. I think we might try to walk through it together tomorrow evening.”
“I used to enjoy going to stuff like that, but I’m afraid at my age, and given my health, something mellower and less crowded is more my speed. I’m glad you had a good turnout. The town and the school can use the money.”
“Brooke seemed to be happy with the attendance. She made the rounds to all the venues, and things were hopping pretty much everywhere.”
“The town is lucky to have her,” Clara said. “She goes out of her way to make sure that everything is organized and gets done.”
I pulled up a chair and sat down for a minute. “Speaking of Brooke, she mentioned to me that Skull Island was used as an experimental facility for the mentally ill after the hurricane in 1893. I don’t suppose you know anything about it?”
Garrett shook his head. “I don’t remember hearing that. Not that it didn’t occur. Information wasn’t as readily available back then, and something like that sounds like the sort of thing the folks behind it might have wanted to keep quiet.”
“I wonder how we can find out more about it.”
“The library has old books and journals. Meg has a lot of original documents at the museum as well. Then, there are the notes Bosley left behind that George’s still working on. I imagine if what Brooke told you was true, Bosley would have stumbled across it during the course of his research.”
“Do you think finding proof of something like that could be what got Bosley killed?”
Garrett shrugged. “Whatever went on happened a long time ago. I don’t see how anyone living today would be affected.”
I rubbed the back of my neck as I tried to work through things in my mind. “I guess you’re right, but it seems to me that given the timing of things, they seem more than just a little coincidental.”
“It does seem whatever Bosley was on to took place on that island between 1893 and 1924. If people were detained illegally and sent to the island to be used in experiments, I guess it’s possible it might affect reputations even today. If nothing else, it’s worth looking in to.”
Chapter 6
Saturday, October 27
Jack and I had worked for several hours the night before but were unsuccessful in finding any information on the lab experiments that might have taken place on the island. If people were brought there, as Viv had indicated, there didn’t seem to be a record of it. At least not one that was available on the internet.
We both had volunteer duty this morning, so we dropped Kizzy off with Garrett and Clara again and went into town. I hoped to find time to chat with George today to see if he had anything to report on Bosley’s notes, and I also wanted to track Rick down because he must have been working on both murders.
First, though, Jack and I had a kiddie carnival to survive. Last year, we’d been stationed at the dart booth, which attracted older kids and teens who had been, generally speaking, mean. I hoped we’d get a different assignment. I supposed adults who had more practice dealing with adolescents might have done better.
“Oh, good, just in time,” Brooke greeted us. “Jack, I need you over on the rope climb, and Jill, I hoped you wouldn’t mind doing the fishing booth.”
I looked around. I didn’t see any water. “Fishing booth?”
Jill handed me several poles with ropes tied to clothesline clips. “The game’s meant for the younger kids; usually, those between three and seven. When you get to your booth, you’ll find a blanket with a bunch of little toys behind it. When one of the kids tosses their line over the blanket, you clip on a toy. It’s a little boring but really easy, and the little kids are usually dressed up so cute.”
“That sounds perfect for me,” I said. “Where do I go?”
“Down the second row of booths to the very end. There’ll be another volunteer there to work with you. One of you can run the front, taking the tickets and helping the kids cast their lines, and the other can clip on the prizes.”
Jack and I said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. There were a lot of people out and about on this lovely autumn morning, although not nearly as many as there’d been at the haunted house the previous evening. The Saturday morning crowd tended to consist of parents with their younger children for nonscary Halloween fun. The kiddie carnival was near the museum, and I knew it would be open today and was hosting a Halloween storytime for the little ones.
“You must be Jill,” a cheery woman with short blond hair, brown eyes, and a sunny smile said when I arrived. “I’m Jessica Carson.”
“I’m happy to meet you, Jessica. I don’t suppose you’re related to Zane Carson?”
“I’m his younger sister. Much younger. We share a father but have different mothers.”
“So, your father is Zachary Carson, who’s descended from Isaak Carson, one of the founding fathers.”
The plump woman clapped her hands. “It looks like someone has been doing her homework.”
“I work with Jack Jones at the newspaper, and we’ve been looking into the history of the island for some of the articles we’re working on. I find it interesting that everyone knows about and talks about the ancestry of Zane Carson, Sam Castle, Billy Waller, and Ron Remand, but no one really talks about their siblings. Why is that?”
Jessica laughed. “The founding fathers were chauvinists for sure. All four men had multiple children, but it was the oldest son in each of the families who got the recognition, and the power that came with a seat on the island council.”
“So the original island council was a committee of founding fathers?”
Jessica nodded. “Yes, and at that time the council was so much more than it is now. In the beginning, it was the law on the island, and the council members were basically kings of their own little kingdoms. It was a big deal to be the eldest son because he would someday inherit his father’s seat on the council.”
“So everyone has had a son to pass the torch to?”
“So far. I don’t begrudge Zane the prestige that comes with being the eldest son. By now, it doesn’t mean a lot anyway. Over time, as the island grew, the people who moved here wanted more representation, so seats were added, diluting the power of the eldest sons.”
I began arranging the fishing poles for the kids who would be arriving soon. “I understand Zane is really in to the historical aspect of things.”
“He is. He knows a lot about history and feels it’s important to preserve the vision the founding fathers left us, despite the evolution of the population on the island. Zane’s a serious guy with serious ideas. He would have been happier had he lived a few generations ago. Me, I’m all for growth and change. I think a community that grows stagnant is a community that dies.”
“I guess you heard about what happened to Billy Waller?”
Jessica frowned. “I did hear. I can’t imagine who would want to kill Billy. He was the nicest guy you’d ever want to meet. He never let the whole founding father thing go to his head the way some of the others did. He cared about the island and the people on it. He was such a pure soul. Killing him makes no sense.”
“There’s an idea floating around that Billy and one of our writers, Bosley Newman, were killed because of something they knew. Do you have any idea what that might be?”
Jessica furrowed her brow. “They might know. You think the same person killed both men? Did they know each other?”
“Bosley was a writer of historical novels. He was on the island to do research on the Skull Island lighthouse. We know from his notes that he spoke to a lot of people who would have been living on the island for a long time, including Billy, Zane, Sam, and Ron.”
Jessica paused. I saw a look of awareness cross her face a split second before she changed the subject. “It looks like the kids have just been let in through the front gate. Do you want to run the front or the back?”
“I’ll start in the back, then we can trade after an hour or so.”
I wished I’d had more time to grill Jessica, but the kids were indeed running in our direction. I could sense she knew something. What I didn’t know was why, if she cared about Billy, as she seemed to, she’d clam up about whatever it was she knew if it could help us find his killer. I hoped there would be a lull in the action at some point so I could talk to her again, but it was Saturday, and it was a gorgeous day, so there was a steady crowd until Jessica’s relief came so she could head over to the haunted house.
By the time Jack and I were released from our volunteer duties, the entire town was packed. Jack had picked up a lead during his stint with the rope climb about Billy’s death that seemed like a long shot, and we thought about following it as far as it went; you never knew where a clue, even a weak one, might lead. Ultimately, we decided to track down Rick and share it with him instead. I was fairly certain he’d be out on patrol with the town filled to capacity, so I texted him to ask if he had time to meet us somewhere for a quick chat. He texted back that he was heading to the food court for a pulled pork sandwich, so we went in that direction as well.
Rick already had a table and a sandwich when we arrived, so we sat down to talk while he ate.
“So, what’s this lead you have?” Rick asked as he washed down his sandwich with a soda.
Jack answered. “During my stint at the kiddie carnival, I spoke with a man who asked to remain anonymous.”
“Figures,” Rick grumbled. “Okay, what did this anonymous man have to say?”
“That Billy Waller was seen in town having dinner with a man he used to own some investment property with on the night he died.”
“You have my interest,” Rick said. “Does this man have a name?”
“Vincent O’Brian. At one point they’d pooled their money and bought a couple of duplexes as well as an apartment building. The investment properties were a problem from day one, and in the end, they both lost a lot of money. They sold the properties at a huge loss. Billy remained on the island and went on to other things, while Vincent moved to Charleston and started a property management company.”