“Uncle Jamie is back and we’re being deluged by pirates,” she called. “Ten minutes, downstairs!”
Jamie hadn’t lied. Pirates were once again walking the streets of Key West. The street was already packed with people, but it helped everyone, and everyone knew-this was one of the big chances to make money. Shopkeepers and bars weren’t stingy; they didn’t try to grab customers and hang on to them all night. They depended on one another. O’Hara’s was filled with flyers for another Irish bar, just as they advertised O’Hara’s bands and Katie-oke nights.
Katie parked in back. Sean and David were with her.
“See, here’s the point,” Sean pointed out. “You go off, and the world respects you as a filmmaker. You come back, and you’re a busboy,” Sean said, shaking his head sadly.
“Hey, big shots,” Katie said, “you have both forgotten what’s in your own backyards. You should get together and do a documentary right here. I know where you can find cheap divers. Then again, what would make a better film than Fantasy Fest?”
“Busboy by day, the Spielberg of documentaries by night! Like it-has a ring,” Sean said. “Let’s get in, and dig into the mayhem, huh? David, you’re not obliged in any way.”
“I can help out for a while,” David assured them.
He did. They walked into pure insanity. There was a mile-long line for the advertised breakfast.
Fantasy Fest Special! O’Hara’s opens for ye olde Irish breakfast.
Clarinda was working the floor, and she’d gotten Jonas to come in. One bartender held down the liquor angle, even though it was ridiculously early. “Hair O the Dog that Bit ye!” was a Bloody Mary, while “Sunrise Screamer” was an O’Hara’s concoction of rum and various juices.
Her uncle was a good-looking man, the family baby, sixteen years younger than her father and only nine years older than Sean. He was definitely harried when they walked in. He didn’t seem disturbed in any way to see David Beckett arrive with his niece and nephew. He studied David and grinned. “Heard you came in last night and saved the place, Beckett. Thanks. I owe you.”
Katie looked at Jamie and then at David, but they were still studying one another. “What went on?” Katie asked.
Clarinda came hurrying by with a tray carrying four of the house specialty-bangers and grits. She’d heard the question. “It was almost a heavyweight bout,” she said. “Sanderson and Barnard-Mike versus Sam. But David set them straight.”
“You beat them up?” Katie demanded.
“They beat themselves up. They were about to break into a mammoth fight, after, it appeared, drinking together in commiseration,” David said.
“And then-”
“They went to lockup for the night to sober up,” David said.
“Hey, hey, times a-wasting!” Jamie said. “We’ll get onto all this later. Katie, you, in the kitchen. You still know the menu, eh? Gloria is still back there. She’ll call the shots.”
“Aye, aye, captain!” Katie said.
“David, the bar, if you will. Sean-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Bus tables,” Sean said, rolling his eyes. “I’m on it.”
“That damned Danny Zigler comes in, wanting work, and where is he now?” Jamie said, shaking his head with disgust.
Dead, Katie wanted to say, but she didn’t. She hurried back to the kitchen.
The breakfast rush lasted into lunch, but by then, Jamie had managed to gather all his part-time employees and the operation was running smoothly again. At two o’clock, the regular employees had the dining stragglers under control. Katie, emerging from the kitchen, saw that her uncle, her brother and David were seated at one of the tables near the bar and the band stage where her karaoke equipment was set up. They seemed to be eased back, and talking.
Like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a very long time.
She saw that Clarinda had stepped outside and went to join her on the sidewalk. “The air! Ah, the air, the air!” Clarinda said.
“So, what was going on with Mike Sanderson and Sam Barnard last night?” Katie asked. “Did they come in together?”
“No. Sam came in-he’s been coming in here pretty regularly since he got into town. Strange, huh? He’s been living up in Key Largo all this time, never came here, as far as I know, and now, this week, here he is.”
“And, wow, really go figure! Mike Sanderson, dressing up like Robert the Doll,” Katie said.
Clarinda shuddered and grimaced. “Now, that is frigging creepy-Oh, look!”
Katie looked down the street. She didn’t see anything unusual-not for Key West in the midst of Fantasy Fest. A pirate with a peg leg was escorting a vampire down Duval. The pirate was fairly customary-and good. He had an eye patch, a real peg leg and looked as if he might have stepped off the pages of Treasure Island.
The vampire wore a sweeping black skirt with stripes of blood that continued from the bodice of the gown, a tight-fitting corset. She was wearing the typical long black wig and white makeup, along with ruby-red lips.