matching curved-back chairs, he was poised for a quick escape. So he was brisk. 'We know all about the quarrel Ross had with his father the day they died. But we wanted to ask if you knew anything about the fire last night, the one that destroyed the Tarrant Museum.'
'Evil in this world, sadness in the other.' She looked at them brightly, a link from one world to the next.
Max didn't roll his eyes, but he stiffened.
Miss Copley had no trouble divining his thoughts. With a sweet smile, she said matter-of-factly, 'I'm almost there, you know. Ninety-nine my last birthday. The angel wings can't be long in coming. Perhaps that's why I was the one to see Amanda.'
Max folded his arms across his chest and didn't say a word.
Annie would have pinched him if she could have managed it unseen. She and Max were going to have to have a chat about body language. But, for now, she knew it was up to her. 'Uh . . . Amanda,' she ventured. 'You've seen her?'
Miss Copley eyed Max thoughtfully. 'Now, now, young man, there are more things in heaven and earth than you know.' But her tone was gentle. 'Why, I've seen angels, too. Once when I was a young girl walking by the river on a summer afternoon, a group of angels went right by me, lovely girls in long white gowns with golden iridescent wings, talking, talking and there was such a sense of peace and happiness. . . . But that's not why you're here. Now, I do want you to understand''—she leaned forward, her china-doll face puck ered earnestly—'ghosts are not angels.'
Max looked helplessly at Annie.
Annie said heartily, 'Of course not.'
Miss Copley folded her plump hands and smiled approvingly at Annie. 'Why not?'
'Uh.' Annie took a deep breath. 'Well, angels, of course, are'—she took a plunge —'happy?'
Miss Copley considered this seriously. 'Well, my dear, of course they can't always be happy. But you see the difference. Angels are messengers of God, they come to do His bidding. Whereas, ghosts'—a faint sigh—'are tied to this plane. They can't be freed as long as they continue to suffer. But I hadn't seen Amanda in many years—not until this week. So I am quite concerned. Why is she walking again? What has happened to recall her to the scenes of her misery? Walking there at the back of the garden, just by the obelisk. I saw her again last night when I came home from dinner at my nephew's. Of course, I went out to see if she might be there, since I'd seen her the night before. And then for that awful fire to start. It brought me right up out of bed. But, of course, you know that Amanda had nothing to do with the fire.'
The cloudy blue eyes clung to his face until Max gave an affirmative nod.
'A car drove up perhaps five minutes before the fire broke out. Someone set it, of course.' Miss Copley nodded to herself. 'But I know Amanda was nearby. For I've seen her twice now.' Her sweet voice fell into a mournful singsong. 'Each time, she was all in white. Just as Augustus liked for her to dress. Walking, walking. The swirl of white, the glint of moonlight, the sound of faraway footsteps.'
It was one thing to deal with Laurel, who recounted ghostly tales somewhat in the same manner as a social climber toting up celebrity sightings. It was quite another, Annie realized, to discuss a ghost with an old woman as attuned to the next world as to this one.
'I'm very much afraid of what may happen.' Cloudy blue eyes beseeched them. 'You will try hard, won't you? Both nights that I've seen her, I've felt the mist against my face like tears. Amanda needs our help.'
11:45 A.M., SATURDAY, MAY 9, 1970
The Judge's dark eyebrows drew down into a tight frown. 'I'm busy, Milam.' His glance was scathing, dismissive.
Milam had the old familiar feelings. He was too fat, too clumsy, hopelessly stupid. For how many years had he been humiliated, emasculated, diminished by his father? Always he had succumbed to the Judge, the imperious, superior, all-power ful Judge. Milam felt like he was choking. His hands shook. But he didn't mumble an apology and back out of the study. Not this time.
Milam closed the door behind him, stepped forward—and saw the surprise on his father's disdainful face.
No, he wouldn't turn back this time. This time the Judge was going to listen to him.
Chapter 16.
Miss Copley's front door closed behind them. They started down the steps, then Annie paused. The sound of the hounds baying raised a prickle on her neck. She gripped Max's arm. But she didn't have to speak. He took her hand, and they ran down the steps. They hurried to the side of the house and turned, heading for the river.
Dancing clouds of no-see-urns whirled around them, the closer they came to the river. Annie flapped her hands futilely and knew she'd soon be a mass of bites, but now they could hear thrashing in the thick undergrowth, and the throaty aw-woo of the hounds was closer.
'This way, by God, this way,' came a shout.
