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.
“What would you like?”
He turned. Liam was smiling at the waitress, calling her by name. Obviously, he knew her. Clarinda.
“Shepherd’s pie and a Guinness,” he said. “Thank you.”
At first, it appeared that the girl was trying not to look at him, then she stared him in the eyes and cleared her throat. “Welcome back, David,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“I’m Clarinda. I’m a conch, too,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Clarinda,” he said.
She blushed. “You spoke to my class when I was in grade school. You talked to us about being a soldier.”
“I hope I said all the right things,” he said.
She smiled. “You did. Well, um. Well. Welcome back.”
She went off to get their order. A group of young people in Florida State T-shirts were singing a Kiss song. They weren’t bad.
“You know, I don’t mind being here-but what are we doing here?” Liam asked him.
“Having dinner?”
“There are lots of restaurants here,” Liam said.
“Retracing the past,” David said.
“The last place she was seen,” Liam said. “God, David, you know I want to help you. I just don’t see what being here is going to do for us.”
David lifted his hands. “I don’t know, but doesn’t it seem odd that the principals are reappearing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Liam, you’re the detective,” David said. “All right-so I can’t help but see things that may not be here on this. But look who just got a job busing the place.”
Liam turned around as David suggested, and saw that Danny Zigler was cleaning tables in the back.
“He wasn’t working here when I talked to him this morning,” David pointed out. “And let’s see if I’m right… Yes, yes, I am. There’s Sam Barnard at the bar.”
The FSU kids left the stage; a group of balding businessmen went up to butcher Billy Joel, but they seemed to have a good time doing it.