Vanessa smiled and laughed easily. “No. Now I know,” she told him. She spoke to him fondly.

Well.

“You…should have told me that you…that you knew there might be some things that were—unexplainable,” Vanessa said. “It would have helped me a lot.”

He got up and walked around the table to her, taking her hands. “Vanessa…trust me, if I hadn’t thought that…well, seriously, you know…most people can’t see Bartholomew.”

“Frankly, I was stunned,” Bartholomew said.

“I—think we’re at a point where we need to trust one another,” Vanessa said.

He kissed her gently on the lips. “Yes, but you must understand—”

“Oh, yes. I do. Just as you really need to understand that I came here not knowing that Jay and the others would show up—and that when you think about it, it’s not odd at all,” she said solemnly.

He pulled her to her feet. He smoothed her hair back. “I’ll never doubt you again,” he said softly.

“Oh, good God,” Bartholomew said. “I thought we were going out.”

They both turned to look at him.

“Never mind. I’m going out.” He looked at them, shook his head and made a tsking sound. “I shall see you when you get there.”

Vanessa wound her arms around Sean’s neck and kissed him. A few minutes later, he told her huskily that if they were going to leave, they needed to go. And they did.

O’Hara’s was insane that night, inside. People had heard about the excitement of finding a pendant from the ill-fated Santa Geneva that had once graced the neck of Dona Isabella, and then the discovery of a body in a chest—and the theft of the body in the trunk. For a while, as everyone arrived, they stayed inside, but when they had all gathered at last, Jamie suggested the patio, a private area in the back, and they all agreed.

Everyone in their group who would be heading out the following day was there.

Clarinda was doing her first night as a karaoke hostess, and despite her innate shyness, she was doing very well.

They could hear the singers and the music faintly, and the night was typically beautiful, not really cool but not hot.

Vanessa sipped a Guinness, enjoying the taste and leaned back against Sean, oddly relaxed. She’d seen a ghost.

And the ghost had proved to be real, or a real mass hallucination. Apparently, Bartholomew had actually been Katie’s ghost and helped out in David’s time of trouble; though Liam wasn’t really in on actually seeing and conversing with the ghost, he knew there was something.

And as crazy as it sounded, she wasn’t frightened anymore—she was in awe. It was actually something of a dream come true, actually conversing with someone who had lived almost two centuries ago. He had told her his own sad story, which had connected bizarrely with David’s, and then he had told her that somehow, he knew it just wasn’t right for him to leave yet—follow the light to wherever it might bring him—because he felt he was still needed on Earth. Which was really fine now, because after years and years and years, he had finally met the lady in white, his Lucinda, who had been a lonely figure walking up and down Duval and haunting the cemetery for years—afraid to reach out to others. Bartholomew had no explanation as to why some people had a sense of something, and some actually saw ghosts. Some saw particular ghosts and not others and, of course, there were plenty of ghosts to be seen! The streets of Key West were often riddled with ghosts; after all, people had been dying there forever.

Bartholomew hadn’t come to O’Hara’s with them; he was determined to join the film project, and so he would spend the night with his beautiful Lucinda.

Vanessa was leaning against Sean. They sat at one of the benches horse-style and it was easy and comfortable to lean against his back.

Sean and David had spent some time delineating duties for each member of the crew and assigning boats. Then Sean lifted his beer. “To success—and safety!” he said.

They all toasted.

The conversation turned to the chest Vanessa had discovered—and the stolen mummified body.

“What if,” Jay said, thinking as he went, “what if…what if it was Dona Isabella? The anthropologist might have been wrong. Maybe they dressed her up in peasant garb. Maybe she broke free herself, and was going to come after everyone in…revenge for what happened to her?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Jay!” Vanessa snapped. “That’s…ridiculous. Mummies don’t come to life, and why would Dona Isabella want revenge on anyone living? You’re talking as if you’re plotting out another horror movie, and we’re doing a documentary.”

“It would be a great and creepy premise,” Barry said.

“A sequel!” Zoe said.

Vanessa glared at her. “There isn’t going to be a sequel—there was never really a movie. Therefore, you can’t have a sequel.”

“Well, actually…” Jay said.

Vanessa felt her muscles tighten up with tension. It had been a nice night—thus far. Sipping Guinness, munching on O’Hara’s specials such as Shillelagh Sticks—rolled and baked corned beef in pastry—and Tam O Shanters—something like sliders. Such a nice night. She’d been so amazed—and pleased—about Bartholomew. She’d been so happy to be with Sean. And now…

“Jay, what are you talking about?” she demanded.

He flushed, and lifted his hands uneasily. “I’ve had a call from a rep with a national distributor. He thinks we have a surefire hit—especially with everything else that went on.”

Vanessa sat up, staring at Jay. “Jay—our lead actors were murdered.”

“Bad things have happened before and movies have still come out and been very successful—and it was really a wonderful chance for fans to say goodbye,” Jay said, defending himself.

“When the leads were murdered?” Vanessa asked icily.

“I’m sure somewhere along the line, yes…but think of the real things out there! Poor Heather O’Rourke of Poltergeist died very young—and they’ve used her scenes in tacky advertisements! When they filmed the Twilight Movie years ago, a star and two children were killed, and it aired. People said goodbye to Bruce Lee, Brandon Lee, Heath Ledger and many more actors when their movies aired after their deaths.”

Vanessa felt Sean holding her back, but she stood anyway, walking over to Jay. “That would be the height of bad taste, and I put my money into that film, too, and I won’t allow it.”

“That’s great for you—you’ve hit jobs that pay well. I need to make some money, Nessa,” Jay pleaded.

“Jay, it’s wrong.”

Sean stepped into it then. “Well, the surviving members of your crew are here, Jay. Why don’t you find out how they all feel?”

Bill spoke up first. “All right, I was more or less a lowly production assistant on the shoot. But…I liked Georgia and Travis. And they have family living now. Family—who might be hurt.”

Barry cleared his throat. “I don’t know what I feel. Georgia wanted to be a star. And she survived in the movie. She might be happy.”

“Yeah, Georgia was sweet. Dumb, but sweet,” Zoe said. “But Travis…Travis was a jerk.”

“Zoe!” Bill gasped, horrified.

“Hey, I’m sorry—it’s horrible that he died the way he did, yes. But was he a nice guy? No!”

“My money was in it, Jay,” Vanessa said. “And I say no.”

Jay inhaled and stared at her. He exhaled and took a long sip of his beer, and looked at her again. “What if we find out what happened?” he asked.

“What?” she said.

“We all came here. We heard about Sean and David and their project, and we all came here. Doesn’t that mean something? We all care, we were all horrified. Vanessa, I own the majority share—fifty-one percent.”

“You slimy basta—” she began.

“Wait, please!” Jay said. “Let’s see what we can discover on this documentary project. And then, if there’s really a story to be told about what happened to us, it would only be right to release the movie that we filmed.”

Sean leaned forward. “Jay, if you want to throw threats around, you’ll note that David and I own this particular project.”

Jay’s jaw fell. He hadn’t thought that he might get kicked off the new project.

Sean smiled pleasantly. “We didn’t draw up any contracts.”

“I’m not threatening anyone. I’m just…I’m just mentioning facts,” Jay said.

“And so am I,” Sean told him politely.

Jay looked at Vanessa pleadingly. “Will you think about it when this project is done?”

The conversation had been bouncing between them with everyone there staring at them. She didn’t want to get into a huge fight with Jay that would naturally begin to involve all the others. The whole project could become an antagonistic disaster by the morning. She didn’t want any hostility on the trip or involved with the filming.

For a moment, Vanessa felt the silence that fell among the group.

“You’re right,” she said. “Let’s see what happens on this trip. If we find out something new about what happened, if there is a prayer of solving the murders, then I’ll think about it. But if we find nothing at all and their deaths remain mysteries, Jay—please. Let’s shelve it.”

Jay looked at her, then looked away. “All right.”

“Promise,” Vanessa insisted.

“I promise,” he said dourly.

There was a silence again. Then Katie stood, raising her glass. “Here’s to great camaraderie and a wonderful work experience. Here’s to tomorrow!”

Again, glasses clinked, and they all toasted one another. The joy of the evening had faded, though, and soon, one by one, they were taking leave.