Twelve
“SO, WHAT, TOM? YOU think the ghost of Victoria Myer really is walking the halls of the Mansion?”
Helen asks the question with a look I’ve seen her use in response to a suspect’s shaky alibi.
I don’t blame her. I’m still shaken by what Catherine said to me, even after a nice relaxing meal and a couple of beers.
“No, I didn’t say that,” I say, shaking my head. “I just told you that after what Catherine told me—”
“You really believe she’s telling the truth?”
“Helen,” I say, looking at her seriously. “After everything we’ve experienced personally with her, you’re going to question if she’s lying or not?”
Helen takes a swig of beer and considers this for a moment. “No,” she says. “Catherine’s been right on everything. I agree with you that she has some kind of gift. It’s just ha
