Scarecrow’s Dream by Flo Fitzpatrick Read Free Book Online Page B

swashbuckling romp called Golden Pirate in 1968.
    After Golden Pirate , Shane returned to the stage, moving to New York City and performing roles in Raisin in the Sun and Shakespearean plays like Othello and Twelfth Night. He appeared on a couple of TV shows in the ’60s and did a few more costume pieces and the fabulous Ebony Dreams in 1969, but his movie career more or less stalled after Circus Maximus when he was royally—and unfairly—snubbed by the academy in Hollywood when he should have been nominated for an Oscar.
    Bad enough Shane Halloran was mixed race, but I’d been right with my memory—he was also considered a “bad boy”—at least in the eyes of the Hollywood elite. He raced motorcycles and enjoyed his ale and cigarettes at pubs from Dublin to Aruba where he’d filmed Golden Pirate .
    I’d met him. He’d kissed me. I could still feel those lips on mine. See those remarkable eyes staring at me.
    I pulled my focus back to the computer screen. Shane had picketed for the right to play roles focusing on character rather than race. He wouldn’t suck up to movie producers and he’d thrown a punch or two at photographers when they’d tried getting a few candid shots of him in those pubs or racing his bike. He’d been at the forefront of more than one protest against racial inequality and marched against the Vietnam War, even collaborating with some major talents on an album called Songs for Peace .
    He never married—which, Addie noted with delight, was cause for numerous hopeful biographers from the 1980s onward to question his sexual proclivities. There were rumors of a love affair that had ended in tragedy, although the article didn’t specify whether tragic meant the woman had died, married someone else, or run off to Ireland to study with Druid monks.
    “Is there anything about a play in the seventies? Would have been in ’73 or ’74 if it was delayed, and performed in the city. Possibly Off-Broadway?”
    Adelaide zipped to the end of the IMDB page where plays, not movies, were listed. “I don’t see anything. What was it called?”
    “ Trapped in the Basement . Of course, we’re presuming Shane took the part, the play got written, the title wasn’t changed, and the play was produced.”
    Adelaide typed the words “trapped in the basement” in what she called a browser window. “Nothing pops up. There’s a group called Black Lips who recorded a song called ‘Trapped in a Basement’ but with an ‘a’ rather than a ‘the’. There was something about a basement in a Dan Fogelberg song, ‘Scarecrow’s Dream’, if I recall the title correctly. Late seventies ballad. Good song. Gorgeous, eerie lyrics about inhabiting two worlds. Let me scroll down. There’s also a very fine mix from rapper M Dogg. But nothing about a play on, off, or anywhere near Broadway.”
    The profile ended with the story of Halloran’s spectacular death in 1973 at the age of thirty-two. In the early morning hours of April 9, his motorcycle had sailed off an ice-covered bridge in Upper Manhattan during a blinding snowstorm. His body was never recovered.
    “Oh my God!”
    Addie nodded. “Yep. I’d say it’s one pretty bizarre coincidence. Same day. Same month. Same year. Same general location.”
    “But no mention of a girl dying with him.” I swallowed and then quietly said, “Addie, he’s gone… And I only now… I feel dizzy.”
    “Didn’t realize ghosts got sick,” Addie teased. “Kind of negates the benefits of being dead, doesn’t it?”
    “Well, I seem to be defying conventional wisdom regarding spooks. Plus, I’m currently in shock. This is ‘the revelations keep coming but don’t tell me anything’ kind of shock.” I rose from the couch then sank down into the rocking chair and began to rock at a frantic tempo. Boo-Boo ran around the chair barking, enjoying the new game.
    Addie’s focus remained with the computer. “Boo-Boo! Chill. Holly, do you want me to see what else I can