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look at this.”
    They were in a small bookshop on Crescent Street. Emma had picked up a couple of books on local ghosts and was browsing through them, deciding which ones were worth buying, when a tidbit of information in one of them caught her eye. She carried the book down a nearby aisle to where Phil was checking out the latest paperback thrillers.
    Phil read the heading of the paragraph indicated by the tip of Emma’s finger. “‘Bikini Ghost.’” He looked up at Emma. “Is this our ghost?”
    “Sure seems so.”
    Phil adjusted his reading glasses and read the small paragraph. “For years, longtime Catalina resident Mrs. Sandra Sechrest claimed that a ghost wearing nothing but a polka dot bikini has been haunting the beach in Avalon near the pier. To date, no one but Mrs. Sechrest has reported such sightings.”
    Phil took off his glasses and looked up at Emma. “So you’re not the only one who has seen her.”
    “But why me, Phil? The other spirit sightings in these books have been witnessed or confirmed by several people, but Tessa was only reported by this Sechrest woman. Look here.” Emma indicated the next paragraph. “According to this, the author tried several times to validate the ghost in the bikini but could not, and it states that the apparition is only mentioned in the book as a possibility. These other two books on spirits don’t even mention Tessa at all— they only cover the usual historical sightings.”
    “How can you be sure Tessa is the ghost this book is referencing?” Phil grinned. “Who knows, there might be a whole bevy of dead bikini beauties out there.”
    Emma screwed up her face. “Somehow I doubt that.”
    She checked the first few pages of the book for a publishing date. “This book was published about five years ago. I wonder if Mrs. Sechrest still lives on the island?”
    While purchasing the books, Emma asked the young clerk behind the counter if she knew a Sandra Sechrest. She did not but added that she was fairly new to the island. As soon as they returned to their hotel room, Phil plopped down on the bed with his new novel while Emma called information and asked for the number of a “Sandra Sechrest” or “S. Sechrest.” There was no listing.
    As soon as Emma settled down next to Phil to read her own new purchases, her cell phone rang. It was a man from the Catalina Islander , the local newspaper.
    After a short introduction, Emma got down to why she’d called. “I’m looking for information about a death that would have occurred on the island in the late sixties, June of 1968 to be exact. I was told your paper might have archive copies going back that far.”
    “We do, but the copies are archived at the Catalina Island Museum. It’s housed in the ground floor of the Casino.”
    “Would it be possible for me to look through them?”
    “I’m sure they’d let you, but you might want to call first and make an appointment.” He gave Emma the number.
    Before disconnecting, Emma had one final question. “Excuse me, but have you lived on the island a long time?”
    “Most of my life.”
    “Do you know Sandra Sechrest?”
    “Yes, of course. Most everyone knew Sandy Sechrest. She was a colorful local fixture here on the island.”
    “Was?”
    “Yes, Sandy died two months ago.”
    “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
    “Don’t be. Sandy lived a long and happy life. She died of natural causes at the age of eighty-four.”
    “I picked up a book today that mentioned something about her seeing a ghost in a bikini. Do you know anything about that?”
    The man laughed. “I’ve heard that story several times—not sure how much of it I believe. Sandy was a delightful but eccentric woman. After her husband died, she lived alone in a small cottage here in town, just blocks from the beach. Every day, rain or shine, she would walk to the beach to watch the sunset over the bay. Did that right up until the day she died. People often heard her talking to herself,