“It’s-sad, sometimes…”

“You believe in a person or you don’t.”

“I do,” he said.

“Then?”

“All right, let’s say I believe in him. Belief isn’t all black-and-white. And not only that, but what if someone had been after him? What if that person is still around? Just watch out for yourself. Careful on getting too friendly.”

“I’m thrilled I’m going to get to see you,” she said, ignoring the warning.

“Yeah. See you soon! And behave until then, huh?”

“I’m just a regular angel, Sean.”

His snort was loud and clear. “Love you, Katie. And behave, I mean it.”

“Oh! We’re going in circles here, dear boy! I thought David was your friend, Sean.”

“He was. He is, I assume,” Sean said. “But…”

“Oh, my God! You are such a liar. You suspected him, too!”

“No. I never did. All right, that’s a lie. I don’t want to believe that David could have been guilty. I mean, I don’t think he could have been guilty. But the thing is, no matter how mature a man he might have been trying to be, Tanya did hurt him. I understand that people think that she might have found him that night, that he might have been angry. I don’t believe it, it’s just…she is dead. David was a big strong kid from the time he was ten. But he was always-sane. Craig taught him to be respectful at all times. He didn’t have a maniacal or crazy temper. So, I really believe he was innocent. Except, inside me somewhere, I suppose, I couldn’t help but let some of the theories and rumors get to me.”

“But now-you don’t believe it was David? Or you don’t want to believe it was David?”

Sean was quiet a moment. “Yes.”

“To which?”

“To both.”

“Okay, I’m saying that it wasn’t David. Then who?”

“I don’t know, Katie.”

“The police questioned you. I read it in a book.”

“They questioned everyone. I had been hanging at Uncle Jamie’s place that night-O’Hara’s. I saw Tanya there. I told them the truth.”

“Do you remember who left the bar?” Katie asked.

“If I do, kid, I’m not telling you.”

“What?”

“Stay out of it, do you hear me?”

“Love you, big bro. Losing the connection,” Katie said. “See you when you get here.”

She cut off the conversation before her brother could give her more instructions.

She looked back to her paper. Her brother’s name was the last thing she had written down. She scratched through his name. Sean certainly never hurt anyone. And neither did her uncle. She scratched through his name, as well. She looked at the list, shaking her head. It couldn’t have been Liam, or Pete Dryer, or…

Lord! No wonder the police had never discovered the truth. No matter what they thought, the murderer had to have been a passerby in the Keys. Had to have been!

She heard a soft sound at the door and looked up. Bartholomew was back; he hadn’t opened and closed the door, but he did make a strange noise as he came through it.

“Where have you been?” she asked him.

“Eavesdropping,” he said.

“On who?”

He pulled out his pocket watch, which couldn’t possibly work, but it seemed to, at least for Bartholomew. “You’d better get going. You’re going to be late for work. Not to mention that your uncle owns the place and you should be keeping an eye on it.”

She frowned and jumped up, realizing the time. She swore softly, gathered her purse and her keys and headed out. She closed the door; Bartholomew stepped through.

“Where were you eavesdropping?” she demanded.

“The police station,” Bartholomew informed her.

“Oh?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you,” Bartholomew said slowly.

“You wretched pirate-”

“Privateer!”

“I’m going to call for an exorcist and send you downward with your scalawag friends!” she threatened.

He laughed, but then saw her eyes. “All right, all right. I was at the police station, and the officers have been warned to keep an eye on David Beckett,” he told her. “See, I shouldn’t have said anything. They weren’t sure what had happened because there was no evidence. There’s some discussion about the fact that David is still obsessed with Tanya and her murder. Evidence! Like that mattered in my day. They just hanged us right and left, right and left!”

She paused, looking at him. “So you were hanged? You never told me that you were hanged!”

In his astral form, he puffed up, shoulders back, head high. “I was a victim of false arrest, Miss O’Hara. And my end was untimely and unjust!” He appeared to let out his breath. “But that doesn’t matter now, Katie. What does matter is that you seem to be getting chummy with a murderer.”

She shook her head, thinking she might be crazy. “He’s not a murderer, Bartholomew. He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know. I just-know.”

“You must keep your distance,” Bartholomew said.

“Don’t worry-my brother’s on his way here. And, supposedly, Liam Beckett has the files now and they’re working the murder as a cold case.”

“I don’t like it, not one bit,” Bartholomew said.

“Well, I’m sorry. And please hush up and mind yourself. My uncle may own O’Hara’s, but I’d just as soon his customers don’t all insist to him that I’m crazy and talk to myself!”

What seemed to lurk in the human soul was odd, David decided. Being in Key West didn’t bother him. Being in his grandparents’ home didn’t disturb him, either; it was actually good. The old place spoke of conch chowder on nights when the temperature dipped to forty, lemonade and good seafood. Some aspects of the house needed updating, and some remained cozy and warm. His grandmother had knitted throws for the furniture, and they were as neat and tidy as the day she had died. Her tea service remained on a small Duncan Fife table by the kitchen. His room had changed little-his rock band and Sports Illustrated posters were still on the wall. Okay, so that needed updating.

Being here, however, was not painful.

The museum was painful.

And when he walked into O’Hara’s Pub with Liam, it was painful, as well.

It was the last place anyone admitted to seeing Tanya alive.

O’Hara’s hadn’t changed. The bar was well-crafted mahogany, and there were a number of booths with deep cushions and high wooden backs. Wooden double doors opened to the sidewalk. Air-conditioning slipped out, but that happened with most establishments on Duval Street. O’Hara’s served typical Irish fare, fish and chips, shepherd’s pie and a choice of corned beef or Canadian bacon and cabbage. “Leprechauns” were thin-sliced beef rolled in pastry and “banshees” were drink concoctions that seemed to mix every alcohol known to man.

The stage offered Irish music during the week, and now, karaoke some nights. It was apparently a popular notion because the place was packed when he entered with Liam. It seemed, however, that unlike many places on Duval, the music was kept at a nondeafening level, and at the back tables, it would actually be possible to carry on a conversation. Closer to the stage, it was louder, but not so painful that your head pounded or you felt the need to escape.

Katie was at her computer, listening to a group of girls, smiling and suggesting something, as they seemed perplexed over their choices. They all smiled and stepped back. Katie looked up at him suddenly, almost as if someone had tapped her on the shoulder and pointed out that he was there. She didn’t smile, she just stared at him. Then again, he told himself, at least she didn’t appear to be angry.

He noticed that a lot of locals still came to O’Hara’s. It was a little closer to the southern side of the island than some of the other popular and must-see haunts, such as Sloppy Joe’s or Captain Tony’s. Many of the bars didn’t sell food, either, especially after a certain time. O’Hara’s served until 1:00 a.m., and when Jamie O’Hara was home, it might serve as late as 5:00 a.m., depending on Jamie’s mood and who was in the place. That wasn’t written on any of the brochures given out by the Chamber of Commerce.