“I WAS WONDERING WHEN we’d be meeting about your little haunted house.”
Father Francis Marion Wayne, a man transferred out of the Marine Corps as a chaplain because he was too tough on his men, actually looks amused as he hands me a cup of coffee Wednesday morning in his office in Baltimore.
“I didn’t really expect to, Father,” I say as I take a sip and feel the liquid burn on its way down my throat, warming me from the inside out. “I just thought the story of the ghost of Victoria Myer was a legend, a story made up to frighten little children and fascinate adults.”
“I take it you don’t believe in ghosts,” he says as he looks at me.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Frankly, I thought ghosts, and ghouls, and things like that were just superstitious nonsense.”
“I find that surprising, con
