Ghost Night

“I see,” Sean said.



“I’m— Honestly, I know everything—or at least something about everything—from shooting, lighting, sound, editing, you name it. Seriously, ask Vanessa. Oh, and I have a boat. It’s got some equipment. I can work anything on any vessel you’ve got, my diving certificate is a master’s and I wash dishes,” he said. “I’ve directed, but don’t worry—it’s not an obsession. I can take direction, as well.”



Jay seemed earnest. It was just too bizarre—him being here, right after he had agreed to film in the direction Vanessa had petitioned.



Or maybe it wasn’t bizarre at all. Vanessa was here. Maybe she’d been elected to be the one to get under his skin and get it all going.



He stared at Vanessa. Obviously, she knew what he was thinking. Or she had known exactly what his thoughts might naturally be once Jay had shown up.



“I didn’t know Jay was coming in,” she said flatly.



“Sure,” he said.



“Hey, look, I just arrived with a tremendous amount of hope,” Jay said. “I went down like a lead balloon in all that, you have to realize.”



“Two—possibly three—people are dead,” Vanessa said sharply.



“Oh, of course! I mean, that’s the most important part of all this, the really tragic part,” Jay said. “And they deserve justice. And if Carlos is innocent and out there somewhere…alive, well, we owe the truth to him, too, right? And if he did murder poor Travis and Georgia, and he didn’t get swallowed up by the Bermuda Triangle, he deserves to go to prison. Or be executed. The whole thing screams for answers, don’t you agree?”



“Answers, yes,” Sean agreed. “Whether there’s a prayer in hell that a set of filmmakers could get the answers, I don’t know.”



“I’m good, I swear, ask Vanessa,” Jay said.



“Vanessa?” Sean asked politely.



“He’s good. He knows boats and he can dive,” she said, still not facing Sean. Her cheeks seemed flushed.



“I’ll take it all under consideration,” Sean said. “And, of course, discuss it with my partner.”



He started to rise.



“Please. Please consider me,” Jay said. He sounded humble. Sincere.



And desperate.



“I can’t tell you what it means to me. Honestly—yes, yes, other than the dead—this didn’t affect anyone as badly as me. I can’t tell you… I still spend my life wondering,” Jay said.



Sean shook his head. “There’s not even a real suggestion that we can find any answers,” he said.



“Please,” Jay repeated.



“I’ll discuss it with the others,” Sean said. He left then, aware that Vanessa’s eyes were following him as he walked across the room.



He hadn’t realized that Bartholomew had been behind him until he felt the pressure when the ghost bumped into him.



“Such a skeptic!” Bartholomew said.



“Sorry, I don’t like it.”



“Don’t like what?” Bartholomew demanded.



“I decide to go her way—and suddenly her old friend is here, asking for a job.”



“She didn’t know he was going to come here,” Bartholomew said.



“Are you sure?”



“She seems honest. I don’t think she knew.”



“Either that, or she was just hoping to use David and me as saps.”



“Ouch. There’s a chip on your shoulder, my friend. Wait—better call it a boulder.”



“I intend to be careful,” Sean said.



“So—what is there to be so careful about? I’d say that it’s natural. If you’d been involved in something like that and you heard that someone was doing anything that touched upon the mystery, wouldn’t you jump it on it like a starving tick on an Irish wolfhound?”



“A starving tick on an Irish wolfhound?” Sean repeated.



“I make my point—and if you tell me no, I’ll call you a liar of the worst kind.”



“All right, yes, I’d be after anything that could get me close again,” Sean admitted. He paused. His sister was singing an old Beatles number, giving all due honor to the Fab Four. He paused, clapping, and watching David clap, watching the pleasure on his face. The world seemed so strange. David Beckett was seriously in love with Katie. It was nice. It was the kind of thing you had to admire—and envy.



He gave himself a mental shake. He’d had his share of relationships, most of which had ended decently, and he was long past the stage where he understood anyone who tried to hook up with a stranger in a bar purely for the purpose of sex. But somehow, looking at his sister and David, he felt a strange sense of emptiness he’d never known. He’d liked his life; come and go as you please, come and go anywhere in the world. Appreciate family and old friends, and look for new adventures. But now…



He took his stool back at the high-top table with David.



“So?” David asked.



“That is Jay Allen—the director of the movie that went so astray,” Sean explained.



“Ah, the plot thickens,” David said.



“He thinks it’s strange that Jay just appeared,” Bartholomew said, rolling his eyes. He jumped up suddenly.



“What? What is it?” Sean asked sharply.



“Lucinda lingers just outside. You’ll excuse me…?” Bartholomew asked.



“Why doesn’t Mistress Lucinda just come in?” Sean asked. “Damn, Bartholomew, the way you jumped up…I thought something had happened. Invite the lovely and ethereal Miss Lucy in.”



He shuddered. “Good God, she’d never!” he said.



“Wait—are you insulting my uncle’s establishment?” Sean teased.



“No, you’re forgetting that such an establishment as O’Hara’s didn’t really exist in my lady’s day. Quite frankly, there was a house of disrepute on this very corner back then, and it was certainly no place where Lucinda would come. That’s why she wanders so much. Of course, she knows that it’s not a house of prostitution now, but still…memories will linger.”



With a touch to his hat, he was gone. Sean watched him. Out on Duval, a rather staggered trail of tourists was wandering by. Oblivious to them, Bartholomew met his Lucy, his lady in white, in the street. He took both her hands in his own and looked down into her eyes, laughing at something she said. The tourists continued to move on by…smiling, chatting to one another, unaware of the tenderness that went on beneath their noses. One young woman paused and looked in their direction, and then smiled. The young man at her side paused as well, asking her what she saw, what made her smile, so it appeared. She shrugged and replied, stood on her toes and briefly kissed his lips, and then kept moving.



Sean saw Liam beyond the door. Like the young woman, he paused, as if sensing something there. But he didn’t see the ghostly duo. He shrugged and came on in. He took the seat Bartholomew had vacated.



Liam knew about Bartholomew. One night, they had tried to explain. Liam tried to believe them; he just couldn’t. He didn’t see Bartholomew, or hear his voice. He didn’t show his skepticism, but Sean knew it was there. Liam seemed to think they were victims of a shared hysterical hallucination, but he didn’t voice his thoughts or his doubts.



“How’s the hiring going?” Liam asked them both. Clarinda came by then, asking them what they’d like. Sean ordered a Guinness, wondering if the dark mellow tones would lighten his mood. Liam opted for one as well, musing that it sounded good when Sean ordered it.



“We met some folks who are possibilities. I’d take one Frazier Nivens over the six people we saw today, but he’s working,” Sean said.



“You’re doing all right though, really,” Liam argued. “You’ve got me and Katie—and Vanessa. David and you, and you’ll be fine with a few more people. I’m not great, but I’m a solid backup guy on the boat and I can hold an extension and boom arm when you’re recording on deck—good muscles for that. I did it enough for both of you when we were kids and recording backyard bands and some of our great oceanic discoveries like old work boots. And I can haul anything you need in the water.”



“Hey, Liam, we’re thrilled with you going. Hate the idea of you taking time off now, though,” David said. “It’s such a bad time.”



“You know you are always wanted,” Sean assured him. “And I’ve just had another applicant.”



“Someone in the bar?” Liam asked.



Sean indicated Vanessa Loren’s booth. “Jay Allen— Vanessa’s friend, and the director of the ill-fated film shoot.”



“Ah,” Liam said. “And what are you thinking?”



“I don’t know,” Sean said. “I’m irritated in a way—it’s kind of like Vanessa was sent in as a vanguard, and now he’s here.”



“Send in beauty, and then bring the beast?” Liam asked dryly.



“She pretends to be—or is—unaware that he planned on coming,” Sean said.



“And it may be the truth,” David told him.



“I don’t like the idea of being used,” Sean said.



“Liam, want to be in charge of another background check?” David asked his cousin.



Liam grinned. “Way ahead of you guys. I checked out everyone on that film crew. I even did cursory checks into the one or two day jobbers they took on in different locations, and the other four cast members. Jay Allen appears to be clean as a whistle. Got through school with excellent marks—and perfect attendance, for whatever that is worth. He’s never been arrested, pays his bills on time and works out of Palm Beach most of the time now—that’s where he has his office. He directed segments of a historical series set up in Virginia, chronicling the men in the Civil War. And he won an award for editing. He’s got good reports from every employer. They say that he is imaginative, dedicated and responsible.”