The Pirate Ghost

by Laura Pender

  “Try the door,” Gabriel suggested.

  “No way! I don’t want to search Charles’s house!”

  “It’s not that you don’t want to, just that you don’t want to get caught. Well, knock on the door or something while I have a bit of a look round, then.”

  “It’s foolish to look. All we’ve got for motive is your jealousy of Charles. Gabriel? Gabriel, wait!”

  But the pirate was already gone. He had decidedly entered the house in his own manner. Tess rang the doorbell and waited a moment as though she expected someone to answer.

  “I don’t think he’s home!”

  A woman’s voice startled her. She turned and saw a gray-haired woman in shorts and a tank top, who was standing on the gently curving street.

  “I wasn’t sure if I’d catch him home during the day,” Tess fibbed quickly, walking over to join the woman on the street. “But I was in the neighborhood.”

  “I haven’t seen him since, oh, Friday, I suppose,” the woman said. “Probably gone on a business trip.”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “Must have taken a taxi, though,” she said. “Both of his cars are still in the garage.” The woman had obviously taken a great interest in Charles’s comings and goings if she’d bothered to peek through his garage windows.

  “They are?”

  “Yes, and that’s strange since he normally just leaves his car in the lot when he flies. You a friend of his?”

  “Yes,” Tess said easily.

  “Good for him,” the woman said, smiling rather wickedly. “So young, too. Well, don’t you be too rough on the poor man, young lady. ’Bye now.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Tess watched her walk away for a moment, then turned and looked up at the house again. What was she talking about? Was it some kind of neighborly joke? Charles didn’t strike Tess as the type of man older women would joke with.

  When she returned to the house this time, she took notice of the newspapers lying beside the door—one fat Sunday-morning paper and two each for Monday and Tuesday. She lifted the cover of the mail slot in the door and peered inside. Letters, flyers and magazines were scattered all over the entryway.

  Why hadn’t Charles attended to his mail? Was he deliberately leaving the impression that he was out of town? And if so, why? Tess was suddenly very curious. She wished Gabriel would return so that they could find a way for her to get inside.

  Don’t be a fool, Tess, she thought. You have no reason to snoop around Charles’s house But then she was supposed to go out to dinner with him tonight, wasn’t she? If there was anything to be suspicious of, it would be best to know before the date.

  She walked around the house again, trying unobtrusively to see into the windows. She looked into the garage as she passed between it and the house, too. There were indeed two cars inside. A moment later, she was on the patio overlooking the beach and peering through a large picture window.

  The room, which appeared to be the living room, was tastefully furnished and quite tidy—except for a dirty glass. The glass contained a quarter inch of amber fluid and sat on a low table in front of a couch. Next to it was a plate with a half-eaten slice of toast. The food looked odd, left out like that. Tess didn’t like the impression it gave her, but she couldn’t be sure exactly why.

  “Do you know of a man named Paul Driscoll?”

  Gabriel’s question startled her and she jumped back from the glass.

  “Stop that!” she exclaimed. Then, catching her breath, she said, “Driscoll? The name sounds familiar... oh, I remember now. He’s a businessman Owns a couple of businesses, I think, though I’m not entirely sure. Why?”

  “The man’s name is on quite a few things inside the house,” Gabriel replied. “And there are several small containers made of that plastic material you mentioned in his fancy upstairs privy. They have his name on their labels.”

  “Pill bottles?” she asked.

  “Aye, I would guess as much. Is this Driscoll an elderly man that you know of?”

  “I think so.”

  “Yes, the place has an old man’s smell to it. And it’s musty inside with nary a window open for air.”

  “Can you get me inside?” Tess asked now.

  “I don’t know if that’s wise,” he said. “If it’s not your friend’s house, you’ll have no excuse for entering.”

  “But I could have sworn he said this was his house.” Tess turned and looked at the beach. “There’re the rocks where I sat down. I was swimming directly in front of this house and fell asleep on the sand there after you brought me up. I know for certain that Charles Dumont was coming from this house when he met me.”

  “Could he have committed some evil deed within these walls, where you might have chanced to see him?”

  “Charles? No, of course not. But he did lead me to believe it was his house. I just want to look inside.”

  “No, I think we’ll go about arranging to pay your lawyer instead,” Gabriel insisted. “One thing at a time.”

  “Why are you suddenly so set against helping me inside?”

  “I’ve given the matter more than my usual rash consideration and realize how it would look for you at this point in time,” he explained. “The police are more than willing to suspect the worst of you already. It wouldn’t do to be caught breaking and entering. Besides,” he added, laughing, “I can’t grip the door handles to open one up for you. We’d have to break a window to enter.”

  “I don’t want to do that.” Tess spoke in resignation as she watched the placid waters of the gulf lap languidly to shore. “Okay, so how far out do we have to go for your ill-gotten gains?” she asked.

  “Out there, just to the south from where we’re standing. Not half a mile from shore, I’d judge.”

  “If you were that close, why didn’t they just run the ship aground and ride out the storm that way?”

  “We could not come about to do it,” he said. “The whole shoreline was different back then, and the wind was blowing at gale force. We would have gone over if the keel hit bottom.”

  “So they threw you over instead.”

  “Yes, thinking perhaps to call off the evil spirits they claimed were dogging our heels.”

  Tess stood a moment longer, just looking at the gulf. She knew that she should be more excited about the prospect of pirate treasure lying out there beneath the waves—especially now that Tommy Mott had given the idea more plausibility—but she couldn’t muster very much enthusiasm for it. The treasure just represented money she needed to pay a lawyer. Beyond that, all she could see was a continuing investigation into Darrell’s death

  Gabriel, on the other hand, seemed to be increasingly excited by the thought of regaining possession of his gold. He was speaking faster and with an almost musical lilt to his voice. But then, the sea was his life. For him, the gold represented the chance to regain what was taken from him by a superstitious crew.

  Of course, Gabriel, or at least his spirit, was still alive, and Tess was beginning to wonder about the amulet. It had caused him so much trouble, and it was on the bottom of the gulf, too. Did the mysterious charm have anything to do with Gabriel’s continued presence on earth?

  And, if it did, could it be made to work its miracle once more with his ghostly form? Could it make him flesh and blood again? Now she realized that there was a reason to be excited about diving for the treasure.

  “Where exactly did you drown, Gabriel?” she asked quietly.

  “Why?”

  “Your African necklace is down there, Gabriel,” she said. “I want to find that, too.”

  “Do you think it’s worth more than my satchel of gold and jewels?”

  “No, but I’m beginning to wonder if that was what kept your spirit alive here,” she said. “That might be why that native fellow was so eager to give it to you. He didn’t want to die and turn into a ghost.”

  “I’ll warrant you’re probably right about that, lass. But it’s already done its ma
gic and so is no good to me now.”

  “But it might bring you back to life all the way. I know it’s farfetched, but maybe it could give you physical form again. What do you think?”

  “I wouldn’t mind the chance to taste some of that food in your larder,” he said. Then he laughed, saying, “But you might be a tad embarrassed to be associating with a naked man wearing a jewelled medallion on a thong around his neck.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Tess answered with a grin. “I think a lot of people might envy me.”

  THERE WAS NO PLACE to rent boats on that part of the beach, but when they asked at Bernie’s, they learned Tommy Mott had a small boat. He kept it in a storage shed behind the main building with volleyballs and other beach equipment.

  “Still can’t keep away from the scene of the crime?” he asked Tess as he unlocked the shed.

  “No, this is a different matter,” she said. “I’ll keep track of the time and gasoline I use and reimburse you.”

  “No problem. How much could you use in an hour or two?” the man said. “If you really want to pay me, you’ll tell me what this is all about.”

  “I will,” she promised, “but later. Right now, I’ve got to go boating.”

  The skiff was made of aluminum and very light, with a five-horsepower engine. Hefting the gas container, Tommy said, “About half-full. Plenty of gasoline.”

  Then the two of them pulled the boat to a small dock and into the water easily. Once there, the bar owner connected the gas line to the engine and tugged on the starter cord. Three pulls did it. The engine roared to life and then settled down to a contented purr.

  “You know how to run one of these things?”

  “Yes, we used to have one at our cabin at the lake,” Tess said. “It was years ago, but I see they haven’t changed the design any.”

  “Then you’re off,” Tommy said. “At last I was able to be some help,” he said. “Have fun!”

  “We will,” Tess said, waving.

  “We? Have you got a mouse in your pocket?” he yelled. Then he waved, grinning. “Don’t sink it!”

  Tess waved back, grimacing at her unthinking use of the plural pronoun. Gabriel seemed undaunted by the slip, however, for he said, “You know, I thought him a bit of a cad, but he’s quite a personable fellow after all. Let’s give him a bit of gold in recompense for the boat, shall we?”

  “It’s your money,” Tess said as she steered the craft farther away from the coastline. “But you’ll have to direct me to it. I’d really like to find that medallion.”

  “Then take us north and a touch more out to sea,” he directed. “We’ll be toasting our success this nightfall.”

  JAY STURGIS BROUGHT the papers into Carl Downey’s office at the construction company about the time Tess took command of the small boat from Tommy. He laid the papers on his boss’s desk with a dissatisfied frown.

  “I don’t like any of this,” he said.

  “We’ve got to pay her,” Carl said. He was smiling, looking at the papers with a satisfied air. “She’s very likely to accept, now that she’s unemployed.”

  “Yes, but if she checks into her husband’s things before she signs, she’s likely to find our connection to that penny-ante tool company. If she knows we got her fired, she’s sure to stiff us on the price.”

  “And we’ll pay it. That’s all.”

  “But, Carl, we’re hooked up with Cage and Ventura, too. Lord knows what dirty dealings of Darrell’s could be connected to us through that.”

  “You worry too much, Jay,” the older man said. “Take it one step at a time. Find her and buy the property. Nothing else matters right now.”

  “Meanwhile, if the cops start looking for someone else to blame for the murder, they could come up with us. Who killed him, Carl?”

  “Do you really think I know?” Carl fixed the other man with a piercing gaze, clearly upset by the insinuation.

  “I don’t know,” Jay said, flushing slightly. “But I don’t want any surprises.”

  “Life would sure be dull without surprises, wouldn’t it?”

  CHARLES DUMONT had finished his business at the bank, setting up an account for the new corporation and depositing the money Paul Driscoll had given him before his suspicions had the better of him. Later today, he would write a check out to his other account at a different bank across town. In the morning, all of his deposits would be cleared and he could take the money out in cash in time for his 10:00 a.m. flight.

  Temporarily at loose ends, he drove his car along Sandhook Road and past Driscoll’s house just to be certain that there were no police cars parked outside, no telltale clumps of neighbors gathered on the curb to gossip.

  He was relieved to see that the house was as he had left it, as still as a tomb. The neighborhood was very quiet. The home owners, mostly elderly people, were staying indoors out of the heat.

  He continued along the street for a couple of blocks, then turned and drove past again. This time, he noticed a white sedan parked just south of Driscoll’s house. Two men were seated in the vehicle, their attention turned toward the gulf. Charles knew instinctively that they were policemen.

  So, there had been some official attention drawn to the area. But if they had discovered anything before now, they couldn’t have kept the media from reporting it. And if they’d only just discovered something amiss, there would be considerably more official cars in evidence.

  But those guys were cops, and they were watching something. What was it?

  Charles continued driving. At Bernie’s Lounge, he parked his car in the lot—and got his answer. Tess Miller’s car was in the lot, too.

  The cops were watching her. But where was she, and what was she doing?

  Charles entered the bar and looked around. A couple of men were there, the bartender, but no women. No Tess Miller.

  “Can I help you?” the bartender asked.

  “Guess not,” Charles said. “I saw a blue Toyota in the parking lot that looked like my buddy’s car. Thought he might be in here. I guess I was wrong ”

  “Yeah, that Toyota belongs to a young woman,” Tommy Mott told him. “She’s out fishing or something.”

  “Fishing?”

  “Yeah.” Tommy shrugged. “Or something.”

  Charles thanked him and left the bar, smiling a bit at the idea of those cops sitting in their car watching Tess Miller fish.

  So, what was she fishing for?

  THE TWO POLICEMEN were wondering the same thing. They had been doing their duty with little interest all morning, both of them convinced that Tess wouldn’t incriminate herself in their sight. They’d been more interested when she went to the big brown house and rang the bell, but no one had answered and she hadn’t gone inside, so their curiosity hadn’t lasted. But then she and Tommy had pulled out the boat and she had taken off in it. They got their binoculars and watched her travel along the coastline. She stopped, dropped anchor slightly north of their position and then began to dive.

  “Better make a note of her location,” the one in the driver’s seat said. “Maybe she sank something out there.”

  “Like what?” The other officer didn’t lower his binoculars. “The guy wasn’t missing any body parts.”

  “I don’t know,” the first cop said impatiently. “Let’s just see what she brings up.”

  They waited, watching the empty boat and catching occasional glimpses of Tess’s head breaking the surface and going down again. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t normal. Maybe if they were real lucky, her activities would prove her to be guilty of murder. This might be all they needed to put her away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Gulf of Mexico was cold after the day’s heat, and Tess shivered as she lowered herself slowly into it.

  “Just let go and get it over with,” Gabriel suggested. “It’s better that way.”

  “No, it’s not,” she said. “You can’t feel it, Gabriel, so don’t start acting like some macho man.”

&
nbsp; He laughed at her scolding and Tess could see him floating on the water beside her without making a ripple.

  “I should think the least you’d want to do is hide your body beneath the waves,” he said. “I’ve never seen the equal of that swimming outfit of yours. It leaves nothing to the imagination at all, and surely it isn’t keeping you warm.”

  “I’ll bet you like it, though,” Tess teased him. She released her grip on the boat and dropped the rest of the way into the water.

  “That I do, but what I like or don’t like is not the same as what a woman should be showing to the world at large,” he chided.

  “This is quite a modest swimsuit, Gabriel. You’ll get used to it.”

  Gabriel allowed that he might well get used to it, but he certainly never wanted to take her for granted. No, he didn’t want that to happen at all.

  At a time marked by trouble, Tess found it liberating to be out on the gulf. She felt like a teenager on her summer vacation. As a teen, she had virtually lived in her bathing suit during the summer, and while she was married to Darrell, she’d never been a stranger to the sun. Now, of course, she saw the sunshine mostly through an office window. At least until this morning anyway.

  Concentrating on the task at hand, she could almost believe that she hadn’t a care in the world except to stay afloat in the peaceful waters. But she couldn’t do that forever, either. If she wanted to dive, she’d better start before she became too tired.

  “Okay,” Tess said to her invisible partner. She pulled herself onto the side of the boat to reach for the diving goggles she’d purchased on her way to the beach. “I’m ready. Show me where it is.”

  She wet the goggles, then fitted them to her head.

  “We’re just above where I foolishly threw my treasure, Tess,” he told her as he became visible to her at her side. “It was all in a leather satchel of fair size with a carrying strap and buckle to secure it.”

  “The leather is probably rotten by now,” Tess said. She drifted out from the skiff a few feet, floating on her back and bringing her toes up to break the surface of the water. “The treasure is probably scattered over the floor of the gulf.”