She was grinning with excitement and took several sheets of paper from her purse. We sat down at a little pink Formica table in the kitchen. Then she forced me to eat cold cereal and milk while she spread the sheets out in front of me.
“These are from old newspaper archives in the library,” she said. “Printed from microfiche. I think I know who…that is, the people who—you know, lived there and…”
“Who the ghosts were?” I grinned.
“Well, yeah.” She eyed me with a reluctant smile.
“And?”
“Here, look.” She turned the first sheet toward me. “This was written up very briefly in an old Irish neighborhood paper. It even has a hostile editorial about the Chinese luring Irish girls into their clutches, like that other author I told you about. But the main article is about the tenant at that sam
