looked suitably impressed.
“It’s so good of you to come, Madam LaGrange,” she said.
“The girl’s phone call impelled me to do so. At the first sound of her voice, I felt the overshadowing of a soul trapped in the timeless warp between this world and the next. In almost all cases this happens when a death is violent, and there is a need to communicate with someone.” Madam LaGrange had a suitably throaty, hypnotic voice. I enjoyed listening; it kept me from continually glancing at Ben to see if he still had that shuttered look on his face. But Tom cut her off.
“Shall we go into the drawing room?” he suggested brusquely.
“Have you felt a presence in there?”
“No.”
“Yes,” said Betty.
With this we made the move. I’d have liked a sandwich in my hand for additional company, but with luck Betty or Tom would offer Madam LaGrange refreshments and I could take a bite off her plate.
She swrept into the center of the room, spread out her arms, and turned in a circle, adding the possibility that she would trip on the hem of her long skirt to the mounting sense of expectancy.
“Nothing,” she announced, on ceasing to revolve. “This room has recently been redecorated? That could be the reason the departed does not feel comfortable joining us in here. Is there a room that is much as he left it?” Pausing, she held up a hand. “No one speak yet. I am seeing a study… dark paneling, a Jacobean oak table, leather chairs.”
Ariel giggled, nervously, I thought.
Ben stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, looking inscrutable. I wished desperately for the comfort of Mrs. Malloy’s presence. She would be so sorry to have missed this.
“Is there a room such as I describe?” Madam LaGrange swiveled to glance at the assemblage.
Tom looked askance at the invitation to speak in his own home, but Betty did so eagerly. “Mr. Gallagher’s study. According to Mrs. Cake, the cook, he spent most of each day there. And the furniture is the same. We bought those pieces with the house, because Tom liked them.”
“And he has to have his own way sometimes,” chipped in Ariel, who was standing on one foot.
Betty didn’t waste time glaring at her. She was leading the way to a door next to the dining room; we all swarmed in after her. Madam LaGrange had described the study accurately-little surprise there, considering it was typical of its kind, but she looked pleased with herself.
“Yes, this is where he wants us to be. I can feel his presence strongly. He is eager to get through, but sometimes there are difficulties… other entities trying to make contact. I never promise anything, but if someone will draw the curtains to block out most of the light, I suggest we seat ourselves around the table.”
Tom saw to the curtains while the rest of us positioned the necessary six chairs. A hush filtered into the room as we took our places. It was still possible to see one another’s faces, but the shadowed effect blurred some contours and sharpened others, so that the known became unknown. I shivered despite my conviction that Madam LaGrange was a fraud and Mr. Gallagher was no more likely to join us than the man in the moon.
“Let us hold hands to form the life circle.” Madam LaGrange closed her eyes.
“Aren’t we supposed to light a candle?” Ariel muttered from my right.
“Unnecessary. The strength of our belief is the beacon that will light the uncertain passage that leads from their world to ours. There must be no doubters here.”
Tom gave a snort, which he converted into a cough.
Ben cleared his throat. I knew he was trying not to laugh.
“Then we begin.” Madam LaGrange’s hand tightened on mine. I had the privilege of being seated to her right. She began to hum, a low deep unmelodious sound that thickened to a rasp… then to a growl. I bit my lip and stared straight ahead to prevent myself from shaking with rude mirth. My brief unease gone, I was ready to enjoy the show: sedately, if possible. Madam’s grip slackened; I felt her body sag. The growling ceased. All was silent. A shaft of light slid through the narrow gap between the curtains, making for a nice visual effect. Betty squealed. Ariel giggled. Someone said
“Hold your horses!” thundered the voice. “Who wants me?”
“Are you Nigel Gallagher?”
“Bill Johnson… used to deliver the milk.”
“Another time, perhaps. This evening it’s Nigel we need.”
“Bugger!”
I had to admit Madam LaGrange was doing a good job of switching voices. As herself, she sounded drained of energy. She now jerked and strained upward in her chair.
“Nigel?”
“Yes. It is I!” This male voice was lower, more cultivated.
“Would you prefer that I address you as Mr. Gallagher?”
“Doesn’t matter. Have to hurry! Others pushing me aside, mustn’t lose the connection.” Did he think he was on the phone? “Must talk to the woman who bought the house.”
“She’s in the room, Nigel.”
“Yes, I’m right here,” said Betty steadily.
“Elizabeth…”
“No one ever calls me that.”
“Beautiful name… suits you.”
“Thank you.” Would she begin to believe he’d fallen in love with her from beyond?
“Right for Cragstone. The west wing… Elizabethan. Other tragedies over the years… papist priest met the same end as I.”
I could almost hear Betty thinking, My darling, I think only of you! “Tell me how I can help you,” she urged tearily.
“Know you care, felt it from the first. Tried to get through… sent indicators.”
I heard Tom snort and agreed wholeheartedly. A funeral wreath and some dead birds as love tokens? I scoffed inwardly. But then men always say they never know what to send.
“How can I bring your murderer to justice, Nigel?”
“You will know when the moment comes… soon. Very soon. Don’t… tell anyone what you are about to do. Might try to stop you… Go alone. Promise me, Elizabeth.”
“I do.”
“Can’t stay… have to leave.”
“Must you?”
“Until… we meet… again.”
A depleted sigh issued from Madam LaGrange’s lips. She had done such an admirable job of conjuring up Nigel Gallagher that I missed him deeply until I came to my senses. Nobody spoke for several minutes.
“Did he come through?” she finally asked in her own voice.
Betty’s was thick with emotion. “Oh, yes!”
“I can never be sure. We need no longer hold hands.”
“I don’t know how to thank you, Madam LaGrange.”
“We can pay her the fee Ariel promised her.” Tom sounded understandably sullen. He’d been forced to witness his wife throwing herself at a ghost. Who better than I to appreciate his feeling, having watched Val do the same thing with Ben? Or hadn’t that been the other way round? I suddenly felt as worn out as Madam LaGrange was pretending to be. When Betty excused herself and rushed from the room, I was tempted to follow suit.
“I never accept any payment in situations that involve murder. My gift is meant to help make the world a better and safer one,” Madam was telling Tom when we heard Betty talking to someone in the hall. She did not return. It was Miss Pierce who hobbled quickly into the study.
“Where is he?” she quavered.
“Who?” Ariel pranced toward her as Tom and Ben got to their feet and Madam LaGrange fiddled with the fringe
