Page 53 of Southernmost Murder

I shook myself firmly and started to swipe to accept the call. “Oh my God, it’s that blocked caller again!” I quickly answered. “Hello?”

Static.

“Hello?” I tried again.

Jun took the phone from my hand and put it to his ear, driving one-handed. “Who is this?” he demanded.

I yanked the seat belt and leaned close, listening beside Jun.

And then the same deep, gravelly, creepy-as-fuck voice answered Jun. “Smith.”

Jun pulled the phone back and looked at the screen. “Hung up.”

I swallowed and took the cell. “I’m too smart to believe that the disembodied spirit of Captain Smith is haunting my phone.Right?”

“Yes.” Jun kept his eyes firmly on the road.

“Except, what if the skeleton is Smith and I disturbed his final resting place. Like, a curse or something?”

“Aubrey.”

“I know it’s nuts, but there’s a real mystery behind Smith’s death. Now the skeleton in his house, the person I saw last night, and this? I don’t believe ghosts, but—” I whined and waved my hands. “At the same time… I don’t have an answer for any of it!”

“That’s why we went to Key Pirates. And why we spoke with Cassidy’s friends and now Tillman. Because someone living is behind this and they’ve upset you, so now they answer to me.”

I snorted loudly. “Weird stuff always happens to me, but this? What the hell, right? I used to think the strangest thing I’d been a part of was a naked crackhead who came into Gold Guys back in New York, asking for fifty bucks in exchange for his testicles. But murder and ghosts?”

“And pirates,” Jun added dryly.

“How could I forget,” I grumbled.

“I’ll make sure Tillman’s on the right path,” Jun promised. “I’m not leaving in a week and a half if I’m at all concerned for your well-being.”

I looked down at my phone. I was gripping it hard between my hands. “Matt never said anything like that.”

“Like what?”

“Just… defending me.”

“Aubrey.”

I looked at him.

Jun glanced away from the road and said, “I’m not Matt.”

And thank God for that.

I smiled and nodded. “I know. I’m glad.” I leaned my head against the passenger window. Not that I was as loopy as my pal Sebastian to enjoy crime solving and dead people or whatever it was that he’d been doing up in New York, but a part of me wassort ofenthralled by this. Not the breaking-in and murdering part, but the historical part. I don’t like being wrong, but I’m a big enough man (ha-ha) to admit when I am. And if there was a whole other life Smith led that I hadn’t authenticated?

Exciting.

Much more so than spending the day shopping on Duval.

“Do you think there really is a long-lost pirate treasure?” Jun asked after a few moments.

“I’d be lying if I said I hope not.”

JUN PARKEDthe car near the back of the sheriff station lot, shaded by palm trees on the left and hidden by a row of empty cars along the right. He shut the engine off and checked his watch. “We still have a few minutes before the meeting.” He unbuckled the seat belt and looked at me. “There’s time for a quick catnap,” he offered.