Heather Graham Bundle: The Island / Ghost Walk / Killing Kelly / The Vision

“Doesn’t make a lot of sense, an experienced diver like Victor,” Keith said. “Where was he diving when it happened?”

“I didn’t see him the morning he took off, so it’s a mystery to me,” the man said. He pointed toward a building near the docks, with a Keys-style thatched roof and an outside bar. “As far as I know, he didn’t say anything to anyone. But we all hang out up there, at La Isla Bar-A. Some of us are up there now, drinking to Vic. Come join us, buy a round. Man, it’s a sorry thing. I just don’t understand how we lost Vic. It’s a tragedy, and a waste, and I’m angry, I guess.” He shook his head.

Keith thanked him for the information and headed for the bar. “I’ll be up in a minute,” the older man told him. “Name’s John, John Elmer. You can buy me a drink, too.”

“Sure.”

The bar was typical of the area, with lots of tall stools and hardwood tables, chairs and benches. It had the neighborhood feel of Nick’s. The woman behind the bar was attractive, but no kid. She was busy, but she handled the load with ease. He decided that the big group at the far end of the bar had to be Victor Thompson’s friends. He didn’t horn in on them immediately but sat a short distance away. When the woman came to take his order, he asked for a beer, then asked her about the group. “If those are Victor Thompson’s friends, I’d like to buy them a drink.”

“Sure. You knew Victor, huh?” she said. “So many people cared. He was a great guy. So sad…”

He saw the group at the end of the bar looking up after the drinks had been ordered. One of them lifted his newly delivered beer and called out to Keith, “Hey, thanks. Join us?”

Keith rose, taking his beer with him. He offered his hand around, and met Joe, Shelley, Jose, Bill, Junior and Melanie. “Good guy, absolute waste,” the one named Joe, who had summoned him over, told Keith.

“A real friendly guy. Never met a stranger. That’s why we’re all here right now,” Melanie explained.

“He always said he didn’t want a wake, people in black crying over his shell,” Jose said.

“Yeah, Vic wanted a party,” Joe said. “People remembering the good times, laughing. We’re supposed to cremate him, take him out to the reefs he loved.”

“Sounds like a fitting way to handle the end,” Keith agreed. “Still…” He shook his head. “Funny thing. How could he know the reefs so well, and…”

“We can’t figure it out, either,” Shelley said, looking morose despite the fact that she was supposed to be partying. Keith’s heart took a little plunge. The woman had obviously cried her eyes out.

He got them talking about Victor’s destination the day he had died. But they were at a loss, as well. “As far as I know, the day before, he had talked about looking at some new places to take people,” Joe said. “But no destination in particular that I know of.”

“He wanted to get into a day-and-night thing. Like camping somewhere,” Melanie offered. “The Middle Keys are filled with great places.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, thinking Calliope Key might be a great place, too.

“I think he headed south, but I don’t really know,” Joe said.

“Hey, remember the time he knocked the whole motor off John’s dinghy?” Melanie said, and giggled.

“Yeah, and remember the time he fell in love with the Cuban girl in Miami and we all had to take dance lessons?” Bill said, snickering. “Man, did we suck.”

“Victor took classes in Miami?” Keith said.

“We all did—he didn’t want it to look as if he was chasing the girl,” Melanie told him. “And speak for yourself. I was good,” she told Bill.

“Where did you guys go?” Keith asked.

“Someplace on the beach,” Bill answered. “It was changing hands when we were there…oh, man, I’m losing brain cells or something. Wait. Monoco. The Monoco Studios. They went missing, didn’t they?”

“Sad, huh? That old Monoco guy was great. But I heard their boat had been seen,” Melanie said.

“Where’d you hear that?” Keith asked.

Melanie looked at him blankly then shrugged. “I don’t know. I think some people in here the other day were saying it.”

Keith remained a while longer, bought another round of drinks, then left. On the way back, he put in another call to Mike.

It was late by the time he had taken the tender back to the Sea Serpent. Lee and Matt were in for the day, and neither seemed glad to see him, though they couldn’t argue with his disappearance; since they had been informed by Mike that he was to come in with the coin and make a full report.

“You find out anything?”

Keith shook his head. “You?”

“Seems like we’re beating our heads against a brick wall,” Lee told him.

“Did you hear anything from your old buddy Hank?” Keith asked Lee.

“No, did you hear from any of your old buddies…like Beth Anderson or Amanda Mason?” Lee asked.

Matt made a choking sound. They both stared at him. “Sorry—swallowed wrong,” he said, and turned away.

Keith and Lee stared after him, then Lee shrugged and turned away, as well.

A rift had definitely formed between the three of them. Lee went down to the cabin, while Keith remained on deck, staring out at the sea. His cell phone began to ring, and he was glad that he’d been left alone on deck when he answered it.

Manny. He listened to what the man had to say, weighed it, then replied, “I’ll need Beth Anderson in on it.”

“How will we manage that?”

“We have mutual friends,” Keith said. “I’ll check in with them. Beth will come,” he added softly, “if you convince her brother and her niece.”

He rang off, hesitated, then he put in a call of his own. He would be sticking his neck out in a big way, but he was convinced it was time. When he hung up, he stood very still in the night, listening, wondering if either of his coworkers had made an attempt to hear his conversation.

It seemed that he was alone in the dark vastness of the sea and sky.

Still…

When he went to sleep that night, it was with one eye open.

15

ON THURSDAY, BETH FOUND THAT she was well ahead on her work. Eduardo Shea, Maria and Mauricio were practicing, and the final rehearsal planned for the next afternoon, after the floor was in place.

She sat at her desk after lunch, going through all the last-minute arrangements. Then she found herself writing down a chronology starting with the day she had seen the skull on the island. She included a paragraph noting that the ghost story Keith had told had been based on a real event. She made a side note with the information about the couple in Virginia who’d had their boat stolen, along with the fact that—no matter what the rumor mill said—the Monocos hadn’t been heard from since they’d last called in from Calliope Key.

A diver had turned up dead, which might or might not mean foul play.

Someone had messed with her computer.

Someone had put a skull on her desk.

She had been threatened at gun-and knifepoint, and law enforcement everywhere was looking for Brad and Sandy, who were apparently pirates. They hadn’t been at the club—at least, she was almost certain they hadn’t been at the club when the skull had appeared on her desk. And she didn’t see how they could have gotten there in time to place it there, anyway. She tried hard to remember if the skull had been real or a prop. Ridiculous question. She should have known. But the minute she had seen it, she had panicked, then run to get the police. Smart call, one would think. And since Ben’s toy skull had turned out to be missing, it probably had been a fake, anyway.