Fiction
Ghost Stationby Kevin Egan
“Miss Meltzer.” The lawyer tapped his pencil on a legal pad whose yellow pages flipped over the top edge of the podium and hung, quivering, in the air. The podium stood near the front rail of the jury box, which instead of the customary twelve jurors held an equal number of newspaper reporters. They came from the Sun, the Times, the Journal-American, the Herald Tribune, the World Telegram, and a number of other newspapers from places like Buffalo, Rochester, Syracuse, and Philadelphia.
“Miss Meltzer,” the lawyer said again.
Helen Meltzer sat on a hard wooden chair on the witness stand. The chair faced directly forward, but Helen leaned sideways so that her eyes, when she finally lifted them from the handkerchief twisted around her bony fingers, gazed
