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Triton right now, I had loved him then.
Maggie said a woman never forgot her first love, and she was right. But Saber
was my first in more important ways than Triton could be. I didn t agree with
Saber on every topic under the Florida sun, but I could talk with him or share
quiet time with him. We certainly had no problems between the sheets.
Well, that thought dispelled my melancholy, and so did seeing Jag Queen Millie
waiting for me.
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Cesca! She grabbed me in a fierce hug. Thank God you re in one piece! Kay
heard from her hairdresser that there was a shooting at your place last night.
What in the world happened?
Someone took potshots at us from a tree and got away.
Millie tut-tutted. I ll bet it was that nasty Gorman character giving you
trouble again. But, my dear, should you be out in the open with this armed nut
running around?
I m sure the tour patrons will be safe, Millie. I refused to hide from Gorman
the last time, and I won t hide from him or anyone else this time.
That s the spirit. Now, Cesca, she said with a jerk of her head, who is
that strange skinny man with all the cameras and gadgets?
I didn t have to look to know Millie was talking about Kevin Miller, but I
glanced at him anyway. He held one of his precious meters and wove his way
through the fifteen other tourists waiting for me to start.
He s a post-graduate-school ghostbuster, I told her as I bent to retrieve
the lantern from the substation cabinet.
Well, he certainly is odd. He s been telling all and sundry that he s about
to crack your code for connecting with ghosts and make a killing. What is that
supposed to mean?
I straightened fast enough to make myself dizzy. Make a killing? Could Saber s
intel be wrong? Could Kevin be the shooter? He was young, wiry, and had to be
strong to carry that equipment like a pack mule. Maybe those high-tech gadgets
fit together to make a .22 rifle, just like in a James Bond movie.
As I watched, Kevin tripped on a cobblestone, then tiptoe-danced his lanky
frame around three couples in the effort not to mow them down.
Okay, if those gadgets fit together to make a rifle, it would be more like
Maxwell Smart than James Bond. Still, Pandora had warned me of betrayal and
treachery. Despite his earnest eyes and guileless grin, was Kevin a killer in
geek clothing?
Cesca! Millie said near my ear.
I flinched. He s a little odd but harmless. Are you taking the tour tonight,
Millie?
No, dear, but I didn t come just to grill you about the shooting either. Fact
is, she said with a faint blush, I met a new gentleman friend for a drink
earlier. Dan was walking me to the parking garage when I heard that Kevin
person blabbing.
Is your friend still here?
Millie nodded at a man in his sixties sporting navy cotton slacks, a sky blue
shirt, and a head of white hair a movie star would envy. He gazed at Millie
with an endearingly besotted expression.
I d introduce you to Dan, but I think it s rather early in our acquaintance
for him to meet my friends. I don t want to pressure him, if you know what I
mean.
I chuckled. He doesn t know about the Jag Queens yet?
I need to break that to him soon, don t I? By the way, will you be able to
make the preseason game?
Not this time. I patted Millie s arm. You go be with your gentleman,
Millie. I ll talk to you soon.
Millie and Dan walked off arm in arm, and I dove into my opening spiel.
Welcome to the Old Coast Ghost Walk. I m Cesca Marinelli, born here in St.
Augustine in 1780.
That was during the British period, wasn t it?
Exactly, I answered the studious-looking woman. The Peace of Paris returned
Florida to Spain in 1783, which marked the second Spanish period. Of course,
the city was over two hundred years old by that time, and the ghost population
only grew from there.
Now, if you ll start toward the city gates and hand me your tickets as you go
by, we ll begin our tour with the Huguenot Cemetery. Oh, and if you feel a
ghostly presence at the gates, say hi to Elizabeth.
The group moved out, passing me their tickets. Kevin came last, fumbling a
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meter as he searched his pockets.
Hi, Ms. Marinelli. Can you hold this a minute?
He shoved the gadget in my hand, and when the meter immediately screeched, he
grabbed it back and peered at the screen. Wow, wicked awesome EMF reading.
Anything for science, I said dryly. Find your ticket?
Uh, no.
Never mind. Let s go.
The Huguenot Cemetery, I said when I caught up with my tourists, was
established in 1821 to accommodate those who died from the yellow fever
epidemic that swept through St. Augustine. The last burial here took place in
1884, and most who are interred here are Protestants. During Spanish rule,
only Catholics were buried inside the city proper.
As we approached, three ghosts waited for us, two who looked positively
gleeful. I also spotted Gorman on the opposite side of the stone-fenced
cemetery but ignored him to launch into the stories of Judge Stickney, and of
Erastus Nye, John Lyman, and John Gifford Hull.
Erastus and the two Johns are said to have come to St. Augustine from the
north shortly before their deaths, and all were buried side by side, their
tombstones nearly identical. I didn t mention that the three could be
pranksters, too. I didn t want to influence an experience anyone might have.
While Kevin muttered excitedly over his equipment, I told the stories of
graveyard lore, stories I only told once a week and only because they were
required. They hit disturbingly close to home.
Especially in the height of plagues such as yellow fever, the dead were
buried quickly to prevent further spread of the disease. However, not everyone
who was buried was quite dead.
In some cases, victims presented all the outward signs of death but regained
consciousness after being buried. We know this because, when coffins were
later moved, claw marks were evident inside the lids. The victims had
desperately attempted to free themselves.
Several people in the crowd visibly shuddered, me right along with them. The
residual energy of victims buried alive and clawing to escape made me sick
with horror.
Thus, those who died of certain illnesses, I continued, began being buried
with a string tied to one hand. That string was also tied to a bell at ground
level. Families, friends, or those hired to do the job began keeping watch in
graveyards at night. If a bell rang, the person interred was quickly unearthed
and freed. From this practice, the phrases graveyard shift and saved by the
bell are said to have come into use.
As I shepherded my group to the rest of the sights, Kevin seemed to grow more
subdued. That is, until we reached the south end of town near the plaza then [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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