The Barge Ghost (Quickreads Series 4)

The Barge Ghost Teri Thomas

SERIES 1

SERIES 3

The Bad Luck Play Breaking Point Death Grip Fat Boy No Exit No Place Like Home The Plot Something Dreadful Down Below Sounds of Terror The Woman Who Loved a Ghost

Black Widow Beauty Danger on Ice Empty Eyes The Experiment Kula‘i Street Knights The Mystery Quilt No Way to Run The Ritual The 75-Cent Son The Very Bad Dream SERIES 2

SERIES 4

The Accuser Ben Cody’s Treasure Blackout The Eye of the Hurricane The House on the Hill Look to the Light! Ring of Fear Tiger Lily Code Tug-of-War The White Room

The Barge Ghost Beasts Blood and Basketball Bus 99 The Dark Lady Dimes to Dollars Read My Lips Ruby’s Terrible Secret Student Bodies Tough Girl

Development and Production: Laurel Associates, Inc. Cover Art: Black Eagle Productions

Three Watson Irvine, CA 92618-2767 Website: www.sdlback.com Copyright ©2005 by Saddleback Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher. ISBN 1-56254-737-2 Printed in the United States of America 10 09 08 07 06 05 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Sunni McCoy glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall. It was now 2:00 A.M. The slim, darkhaired young woman had checked the time just 15 minutes ago. “Still four more hours to go,” she groaned. “My feet are killing me!” “We’ll make it,” smiled her best friend, Bree Emerson. “Break time is right around the corner, girlfriend! We’ll just get ourselves a blast of hot coffee and you’ll be fine.” The 22-year-old friends were college students from Seattle. They were spending the summer working as salmon processors in Alaska. For three months their home was a four-story “floating processor” barge called the 3

Aleutian Sun. The huge blue-andwhite steel vessel was anchored in a coastal inlet. Sitka, the nearest town, was about six hours away by ferry. The workers’ 16-hour shifts were grueling, but Sunni and Bree were gradually getting used to the grind. Bree, an athletic blonde, tried to cheer up her weary friend. “Just pretend we’re at a really awesome party back in Seattle,” she said. “How can you be tired if we’re at a party? Hear that throbbing techno music? See that cute guy over there?” Sunni grinned in spite of herself. Luckily, the two girls never seemed to run out of steam at the same time. One was always there to add some pep when the other was pooped. “Well, I guess this beats studying for finals,” Sunni sighed. “It sure does,” Bree agreed. “Except for one thing. Up here, there are fish guts all over the floor!” At that, they 4

both doubled over with laughter. Sunni picked up a six-inch-long sac of reddish-colored salmon eggs. In their clear membrane, the shiny, round eggs felt cold and slimy through her gloves. She playfully tossed them at Bree. “Catch! Here’s some caviar to take to the party,” she giggled. “Watch out, you guys!” whispered Hassan, their coworker and buddy. “Jules walked by just a minute ago.” A big Samoan man, Jules was the production supervisor. It was his job to make sure the “slime line” kept running efficiently. As a boss, Jules was tough but fair. He realized that a little horseplay helped keep the workers in a good mood. But everyone knew not to push him too far. Straightening up, Sunni and Bree tried to stifle their giggles. “Okay—act like nothing’s happening,” Bree said, out of the side of her mouth. That always made Sunni laugh. 5

Actually, Sunni was feeling much better now. Hassan was smiling, too.

Finally, it was 6:00 A.M. Their 16-hour shift was over. Sunni showered and went straight to bed. But Bree was hungry, so she went down to the galley for a bite to eat. After selecting a bran muffin and a juicy green apple, she sat down at one of the long tables. A few minutes later Hassan joined her. “You won’t believe what I just heard,” he said. “A guy told me this barge used to be a fishermen’s morgue! A long time ago, it was used to store the bodies of sailors and fishermen who’d died at sea.” “Ugh, that’s really creepy,” Bree groaned. “Why didn’t they just take the bodies home for burial?” “Well, apparently, the fishing boats would stay out at sea for months,” 6

Hassan said. “Especially in winter. The captains couldn’t afford to go all the way back home just because some sailor had died. So they’d take the body to the fishermen’s morgue—this barge! “After a few months, all the bodies would be taken back to Sitka so their families could bury them. I guess it was always cold enough so the corpses wouldn’t decay.” “Come on, Hassan!” Bree said. “You know as well as I do that this place is a rumor mill. You can never believe the wild stories you hear around here.” The Aleutian Sun was always abuzz with gossip; that was a fact. Still, the story made Bree uneasy. She wondered if it might be true. In a way, it seemed to make sense. And she knew the barge was very old. One of the machines on the production line had a metal plate saying it was made in 1928. The barge itself might be that old—or even older. 7

When Bree got back to their room, Sunni was still awake. After Bree told her friend Hassan’s story, they both drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Brrrrrrring!

Brrrrrrrring! It was the alarm clock. That meant it was half past noon—time for Sunni and Bree to get out of bed. Since they were both on B shift, they’d need to start work again at 2:00 P.M. Today was laundry day. Sunni had set the alarm clock a little early so she and Bree would have time to get their dirty clothes bagged up. “C’mon, sleepyhead,” Sunni said as she reached up to the top bunk and shook her friend’s shoulder. “We have to bag our laundry. You wouldn’t want to wear those same smelly clothes again all week, would you?” Bree sighed. “If it meant I could sleep for another half hour, I would,” 8

she said. Sunni knew Bree wasn’t serious. Stinky clothes were a fact of life here. The two young women wouldn’t dream of missing laundry day. But some days they were almost willing to trade their very souls for a little extra sleep.

Sunni

dragged her laundry bag and Bree’s down to Marge, the laundry lady. Marge was about 50. She had pale skin and badly dyed strawberry-blonde hair. Usually, she was grouchy. “You brought Bree’s bag, too, huh?” Marge asked Sunni. “I swear, that girl is such a prima donna! You’d think it would kill her highness to bring her own laundry down here.” Sunni was mildly annoyed. “Oh, Bree’s just not a morning person,” she said. She hated it when anyone badmouthed her friends. 9

“Well, it’s not exactly morning, is it?” Marge snapped sarcastically. “It seems pretty early to us B shift people,” Sunni answered. Marge had been working since 6:00 A.M., so she was nearing the end of her day. Unlike the production crew, she worked only a 12-hour shift. “Say, you’ve been working on this boat for a long time, haven’t you?” Sunni asked Marge. “Yeah, what of it?” Marge growled. “Did you ever hear anything about the Aleutian Sun being used as a fishermen’s morgue?” Sunni asked. “Somebody said this boat was used to store fishermen’s bodies until they could be brought home.” “Yeah, that’s pretty close,” Marge said. “Actually, it was used as a morgue barge in the Vietnam War. It was called the Tropical Queen back then. It took soldiers’ bodies to the Philippines. From there, they’d be 10

flown back to the States for burial.” “Wow!” Sunni said. “This boat sure has been around for a long time.” “Yes, it has,” Marge said. She was being a little nicer now that she was warming up to her story. “In fact, this old barge even has a ghost.” “A ghost?! For real?” Sunni cried. “Of course!” Marge snapped. “Do you think I’m making this up? Just ask the cook! Both of us know plenty of big, strong guys who won’t go down into the hold alone. They say there’s a room down there that still has a ghost in it. It’s icy cold inside, and you can hear clanking in the walls.” “Hmm,” Sunni mused. “Maybe it was a soldier who can’t accept that he was killed in the war.” “Might be,” Marge agreed. “Now get out of here, so I can get back to work. I don’t have the time to stand around flapping my jaws all day.”

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Sunni and Bree suited up in their heavy rubber gloves, boots, hairnets, and rain gear. Bree waved at Hassan as they got in line. It was 2:00 P.M., time to punch in. “Hey, I was just talking to Marge a little while ago,” Sunni said. “She said this boat was never a fishermen’s morgue. It was a soldiers’ morgue during the Vietnam War!” Then Sunni told Bree and Hassan the rest of Marge’s story. “Oh, the old grouch probably just made that up,” Bree scoffed. “Well, we could always ask the cook,” Hassan suggested. “But which cook? Do you think Marge was talking about Phyllis or Gracie?” Phyllis was an African-American woman in her 50s, from New Orleans. Her laugh was hearty and her shrimp jambalaya was out of this world. Gracie, the other cook, was a younger 12

woman, probably in her early 30s. She was a Filipina who loved to make rich cakes and other desserts. “I’m not sure,” Sunni replied, “but I think Marge and Phyllis are friends. I’ve seen them hanging out together.” “Me too,” Bree said. “Let’s ask Phyllis about it at break time.”

A few hours later, at 5:30 P.M., it was time for their dinner break. The three friends quickly peeled off their slimy rain gear before everyone else did. That put them first in line for dinner. “Say, Phyllis, do you know anything about a ghost being on this boat?” Bree asked the cook. “I sure do! I’ve seen grown men tremble after coming upstairs from the hold,” Phyllis said. “They say the ghost scares the living daylights out of them.” “Are any of those guys on the boat 13

now?” Hassan asked. “I mean, a guy who saw the ghost with his own eyes?” “Not that I can think of,” Phyllis said, heaping mashed potatoes onto Hassan’s plate. “But you could try asking Denny, the big guy over there. He’s a supervisor down in the hold.” The three friends grabbed their trays and sat down next to him. “You’re Denny, right?” Hassan asked. “Phyllis told us you might know about a ghost down in the hold.” The big man looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, there’s definitely a ghost down there,” Denny said. “About all I can tell you is to be careful if you decide to go poking around. Don’t ever go down into the hold alone.” “But have you seen him yourself ?” Hassan persisted. “Well, no, I haven’t personally seen the ghost—but I know he’s down there,” Denny said. “I’ve heard banging on the walls when no one’s around but 14

me and the other guys. And I’ve felt sudden blasts of icy cold air in certain spots. But that’s not the worst part: Sometimes we’ve heard an eerie wailing sound. It’s like the ghost is trying to tell us something, but can’t. I’ve heard that this barge was once used as a fishermen’s morgue,” Denny continued. “Other people swear it was a morgue barge in Vietnam. But no one seems to really know for sure.” “I sure wish we had a way to find out,” Bree said. “Hmm. There might be information about it on the Internet,” Hassan said. “Hey, that’s a great idea!” Sunni cried. “I could call my sister Valerie in Seattle and ask her to check it out. She’s a whiz on the Internet. You have a cell phone, don’t you, Hassan?” “Sure,” Hassan said. “I call my family in New York and Somalia all the time. You could use it, no problem. It usually works pretty well up here.” 15

“You know, we could hold a séance, too,” Bree said thoughtfully. “We could light candles and sit in a circle. We’d all hold hands, close our eyes—you know, and see what happens. Maybe the ghost would communicate with us.” “I’m surprised no one has tried that before,” Denny said. “You three are certainly brave! If you’re willing to give it a try, I’ll help you all I can. I’ll show you the room where we hear the banging. And I can join your séance, too, if you like.”

Sometime before midnight, the production line ran out of fish. For the next 24 hours, no more fishing boats were expected to deliver loads to the processing barge. So at 1:00 A.M. the line was shut down, and the workers were told to punch out. They had a day off! Bree, Sunni, and Hassan had been 16

working for 14 days straight. A whole day off would give them a good chance to look for the ghost. The next day they all slept in. After 12 solid hours of snooze time, Sunni opened her eyes. She saw that Bree was awake, too. “Hey! Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Sunni whispered. Their other roommates were still fast asleep. “Sure am! Let’s go and get Hassan,” Bree answered in a hushed voice. After dressing quickly, they went to Hassan’s room and knocked softly. Hassan had been waiting for them. He handed Sunni his cell phone. “Let’s go to the top deck,” he said. “You’ll get a better signal up there.” The three friends climbed the metal stairs leading to the top deck. They were glad to see what a gorgeous day it was outside. Sunni dialed her sister in Seattle and told her all about the ghost. Val was fascinated. She said 17

she’d be happy to do some Internet research for them. “Let’s see if I’ve got everything straight before I hang up, Sunni,” Val said. “Your barge is now called the Aleutian Sun, but it was once called the Tropical Queen. It may have been a fishermen’s morgue, or perhaps it was a soldiers’ morgue in Vietnam. The barge may have been built in 1928. And some say there’s a ghost aboard. Does that about sum it up?” “Yes, I think so,” Sunni said. “I wish we had more to go on, but that’s all we’ve been able to find out so far.” “That’s plenty to get me started,” Val said enthusiastically. “I’ll call you back just as soon as I know anything.”

After lunch they went looking for Denny. They found the big man stretched out on a deck chair. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said 18

with a smile. “I saw a humpback whale breach just a little while ago. It was amazing to see a whale jump clear out of the water that way.” “Wow!” Bree exclaimed. “I still haven’t seen a whale breach yet. But I’ve seen their tails flipping out of the water a few times.” “So, did you guys really decide to hold a séance?” Denny asked. “Yes—and my sister Val’s going to research the history of this barge on the Internet,” Sunni replied. Denny smiled. “That could be a big help. Are you ready to get started with the séance now?” “We sure are,” Bree said excitedly. “I brought along some candles. I hope scented ones are okay.” Denny laughed. “I’m sure scented candles will be fine,” he said. “Ghosts probably don’t like stinky fish smells any more than we do!”

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Denny led the way down to the hold. He’d brought a flashlight because it was so dark down there. Then he took them to a small room near the end of a long hall. So far, there had been no sign of the ghost. “Brrrr! It’s really cold down here,” Bree shivered. “Is it always like this?” “Yeah. That’s because we’re below the water line,” Denny said. “They don’t bother to heat this area because it’s only used for storage. Still, this room seems to be the coldest one of all.” The room was full of junk. Rusty chains, machine parts, and piles of boxes were lying around everywhere. Denny and Hassan cleared a spot on the metal floor. Luckily, Sunni had brought a blanket for the four of them to sit on. She placed it on the floor, and they stood around it in a circle. In the middle of the blanket, Bree formed a 20

triangle with the three lemon-scented candles. After Denny lit them, they sat cross-legged on the floor, holding hands, and slowly closed their eyes. “Oh, ghost of the barge, we beseech you, speak!” Bree intoned. Sunni stifled a giggle. “You sound like you’ve done this before,” she whispered to her friend. “No way. But I did see it on TV once,” Bree whispered back. “Now get serious, guys. We have to focus all our energy if we want this to work.” “Oh, ghost of the barge,” Bree repeated in a dramatic voice. “Make your presence known to us. We only want to help you.” “Shhh!” Hassan said softly. “I think I hear something!” Sure enough, they heard a faint, but unmistakable, banging sound. The grip of their clasped hands tightened as the banging sound got louder and louder. 21

“It seems to be coming from inside the walls,” Sunni gasped. There was no longer any sign of playfulness in her voice. Then, suddenly, they felt a blast of icy cold air. All four of them reacted at once. As their eyes flew open, they realized the candles had been blown out. They were in total darkness! Denny immediately reached for his flashlight. But his hand froze as a pulsating glimmer of light appeared in one corner of the room. They all stared at the shapeless glow. Then, slowly, the shape of a man emerged. Wiry and balding, wearing black-rimmed glasses, he appeared to be in his forties. He wore a white shirt with a narrow, black tie. As the shape became clearer, they could see the man-ghost’s bony finger pointing to a corner across the room. “Moby Dick,” the ghost croaked in a weak but determined voice. 22

“MOBY DICK,” the ghostly lips repeated more insistently. Just then Hassan’s cell phone rang. Startled, they all jumped. And at just that moment, the ghost disappeared. “Darn it!” Sunni exclaimed. “Talk about bad timing!” Then she realized that the caller was probably her sister. Val must have already found some information for them! “Hello? Hello?” Sunni said as she tapped on the phone. But the line was dead. “We need to go up to the top deck to call her back,” Hassan said. “The reception’s no good down here.” “Yeah, good idea,” Denny said in a shaking voice. “And that’s just one good reason to get out of here!” Glancing back over his shoulder into the dark corner, he shuddered. Then all four of them took off running.

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The

four friends traipsed up the four flights of stairs to the top deck. After being in the dark, the bright sunshine made them blink. Sunni got through to Val on the first ring. “Hey there, sis!” Val cried out excitedly. “Wait ’til you hear what I found out! You’ll never believe it!” “You won’t believe what happened here, either!” Sunni exclaimed. “We held a séance—and we actually saw the ghost! It was weird, though. He pointed to a corner and said Moby Dick. Then the phone rang and he disappeared. When the signal cut out, we had to come up to the top deck so we could call you back.” “Wow!” Val said. “That’s really bizarre about the ghost! I wonder what on earth he meant by Moby Dick! Anyway, let me tell you what I’ve got. Oh, wait! First, you’ve got to tell me 24

what the ghost looked like. Was he a thin, balding man in his forties?” Sunni was amazed. “Why, yes,” she said. “How could you know that?” “Well, I’d bet money it was the bookkeeper, Sam Goodman,” Val said. “It seems that in 1956— Wait, let me back up. First of all, I discovered that the barge was built in 1933. Back then, the American Fruit Company used it to haul bananas in the Philippines. It was called the Tropical Queen at that time. Later, in 1968, the barge was bought by Neptune Seafoods. They rechristened it the Aleutian Sun and converted it to a fish-processing vessel. They must have installed some old machinery. That would explain the machine that was made in 1928. It was 40 years old when they installed it.” “So I guess everybody was wrong about this barge ever being a morgue boat, huh?” Sunni said. “Yeah, that must have been just 25

gossip,” Val said. “I found nothing at all about that.” “So go on with your story,” Sunni urged her sister. “What about the bookkeeper you mentioned?” “Okay. It seems that a bookkeeper disappeared from the Tropical Queen in 1956,” Val went on. “The barge was based in the Philippine Islands then. The bookkeeper’s name was Sam Goodman. I looked at some old newspaper clippings that showed the guy’s picture. He was a thin, balding man in his forties who wore blackrimmed glasses. “The articles said the captain found the vessel’s safe wide open—and $50,000 in cash was missing! A lifeboat was gone, too. Goodman had never been in trouble before. But no one else was missing. So everybody assumed he had taken the money and escaped in the lifeboat.” Sunni was fascinated. “And he was 26

never heard from again?” she asked. “That’s right,” Val said. “He was tried in absentia. That means the court holds a trial in the absence of the suspect. Neither Mr. Goodman nor his body had ever turned up, so they had to do it that way. “Anyway, Goodman was convicted of the crime. He’d been employed by American Fruit for 23 years—ever since the barge was built. But as a convicted felon, he lost all his benefits. His wife and four kids never got a dime of his pension.” “If he was innocent, that’s a terrible injustice,” Sunni said. “But maybe he went off somewhere to blow the $50,000 and have a grand old time.” “I doubt that,” Val said. “According to the all the articles I read, he was a real family man. Every week he sent his paycheck to his wife in Chicago. He’d spend six months on the barge in the Philippines, and then the rest of 27

the year working at the company’s headquarters in Chicago. It sounded like his disappearance and conviction left his wife heartbroken.” “Thanks so much for your help, Val,” Sunni said. “We’ll be sure to keep you posted.”

Sunni told the others what Val had said. “Let’s go back down to the hold and poke around some more,” Hassan suggested. “Maybe we can figure out what the ghost meant when he kept saying Moby Dick.” Back in the storage room, they went to the corner the ghost had indicated. On the wall behind some stacks of old boxes they found a movie poster advertising Moby Dick. The words Copyright 1956 were at the bottom of the picture. That was the year Val said Sam Goodman had disappeared! Behind the poster Denny found a 28

welded patch on the wall. It covered a hole about two feet square. “Looks like someone could have stuffed a body in there,” Denny said. “We’ll need to cut it open to find out. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Hauling a blowtorch, Denny returned a few minutes later. He was wearing goggles and heavy gloves. “Stand back,” he cautioned the others. Then he slipped the goggles down over his eyes and set to work. It didn’t take long for the blowtorch to do the job. The others eagerly inched forward. They blanched as Denny took the hot, ragged edges in his gloved hands and pulled the patch away. “Eeeeeek!” Bree screamed. “There’s a skeleton in there!” “Look! The skull is wearing blackrimmed glasses!” Sunni exclaimed. “Val was right! That has to be Sam Goodman, for sure!” Val’s description was accurate. The 29

skeleton was also dressed in a white shirt, a narrow black tie, and black pants. Suddenly, Hassan noticed a note on the floor. It had apparently fallen out of the skeleton’s hand. The note read: My sweet Christine! I walked in on Captain Jones stealing the payroll money from the safe. He hit me over the head and knocked me out.When I came to, I was sealed in this hole. I’ve banged on the wall until my hands are bloody, but no one can hear me. He must have taken me down in the hold. I hope that this note will be found someday so you will know what happened to me. The air is getting thick. There’s not much time left. I am so very afraid, Christine! But know that I will go to my maker with loving thoughts of you and the children in my heart! Yours always and forever, Sam 30

The next day a team from the Sitka Police Department flew out to the barge by seaplane. The forensics people carefully bagged the skeleton. Then they dusted for fingerprints and gathered other evidence. “This mystery has gone unsolved for nearly 50 years,” the police chief said. “But thanks to you young people, it’s finally cleared up. The only thing we don’t know is what happened to the lifeboat. My guess is that Captain Jones sank it as part of the frame-up. We’ll never know for sure, though, because that scoundrel died in 1986. We can only hope that he found no happiness in his ill-gotten gains—and that Sam haunted his thoughts just as he haunted this old tub. “I’ll see that a hearing is held to clear Sam’s name. It won’t help Sam’s wife, Christine. She died in 1970, brokenhearted and penniless. But I’m 31

sure his kids and grandkids will be happy to have his good reputation restored. And here’s the best news: Sam’s family will now be eligible to receive his pension money. After collecting interest for 40 years, it should be quite a tidy sum.” Big Jules, the production line supervisor, rushed in just in time to hear the police chief’s words. “I have some good news, too,” he said. “Heads up, guys! There’s a fishing boat on its way with 80,000 pounds of salmon aboard. The slime line is back up and running. Now go punch in!” “That’s good news?” Bree moaned. Jules grinned. “On the slime line, that’s as good as it gets!” he said with a laugh.

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