“James wants all of us tonight?” Diane looked upset. “I don’t think they will come.”
“They must.” Laverne swung to look fully at Diane. Her sharp features were set and hard, her gaze demanding. “They must.” Laverne’s desperation was clear. Failure to arrange a gathering of those who had been in The Castle the night Jack died would be unacceptable to Ronald. Laverne reached out a bony hand. “Tonight they must be in the library at eight o’clock or I can’t answer for the consequences.” Head down, she turned to walk away.
Diane ran after her, gripped her arm. “What will happen if they won’t come?”
Laverne hunched her shoulders, dipped her head. “James has spoken. If his cry isn’t answered, we may never hear his voice again.”
Diane bolted across the room. Wind-ruffled hair framed her face. Her small mouth worked, the lips trembling. “Evelyn, please.”
Evelyn laid down her pen, aligning it precisely near a magnifying glass next to a large-print art catalog. “Are you ill?”
“You laugh at me.” Diane’s voice shook. “You don’t believe James comes. But he does.” She clasped her hands and they twisted and turned. “Tonight he wants everyone to be in the library, everyone who was in the house the night Jack died. Please. Come to the library at eight. I beg you.”
“Try for a modicum of control, Diane.” Behind the thick lenses, Evelyn’s milky eyes stared fuzzily at the convulsed face of her sister-in-law. “What brings about this hysterical plea?”
Tears trickled down Diane’s cheeks. “Laverne doesn’t know what’s wrong, but James is very upset. James has sent her messages. He’s very clear.” Her voice was earnest. “Everyone who was at The Castle that night must come.”
Evelyn’s gaunt face was impassive. “Laverne has heard from James? That’s very interesting.” Those milky eyes narrowed in thought.
Evelyn was unlikely to be persuaded that James’s spirit desired this gathering. I watched her with growing interest. If she were not concerned about revelations that might be forthcoming from so-called spirits, she would dismiss Diane’s passionate request. I recalled her cool comment about her sister-in-law welcoming charlatans, as Evelyn described them:
Diane’s face flushed. “You don’t believe me. But James told Laverne someone was on the balcony with Jack when he fell.”
Evelyn sat utterly still. “Who?”
Diane shivered. “I don’t know. I’m afraid that’s why James is upset.”
“Indeed. However, one might expect that Jack would be the proper spirit to consult.”
“Don’t make fun of me.” Diane’s voice shook. “We may find out tonight.”
“Laverne’s claims are interesting.” Evelyn’s tone was thoughtful. “Very well, Diane. I am not a believer in the occult. However”—there was the slightest dryness in her voice—“I would hate to disappoint James.”
I remained a moment after Diane’s departure to study the self-possessed woman seated at the elegant desk. She appeared to be deep in thought, the art catalog no longer of interest. Was her willingness to attend the seance dictated by fear or curiosity?
Her features were somber. “Laverne. What a second-rate, cheap, lying fake.” She spoke with distaste. “Diane is a fool. I wonder what kind of trouble Laverne plans to cause?”
I assumed talking aloud to herself was a habit of long standing. Perhaps Evelyn believed herself to be the only intelligent conversationalist in The Castle.
“Someone else on the balcony…” Her dark brows drew down into a frown. “I’d better go.”
Diane began without preamble. “Jimmy, I never ask you to do things for me. But I want you to promise you will do as I ask.”
He looked up at his mother with a mixture of affection and wariness. “What’s up, Mom?”
She bent forward, stretched out a shaking hand. “Please. Promise me.”
He frowned, his good-humored face puzzled. “Promise you what?”
“I need—your father needs—”
His face tightened.
“—for you to come to the library tonight.”
He pushed to his feet. “Mom, I can’t stand that stuff. If it makes you feel better to hear that woman mutter in the dark, I guess it’s okay. But I don’t want to listen to her act like Dad’s speaking. It makes me sick.”
“Jimmy, please, just this once. Your daddy’s upset about Jack.” Diane’s words tumbled out; her eyes were bright and glittering. “It’s all about Jack. Not your dad. Maybe we’ll hear Jack tonight. Somebody was on the balcony with him.”
Jimmy stared at his mother, his face taut. “Who said so?”
“Your daddy told Laverne. Everybody who was in the house the night Jack died has to come. Please, Jimmy.”
“Laverne.” Jimmy looked tough, pugnacious, and worried. “Yeah. I get it. Mom—” He broke off, shook his head. “I’ll be there.” His voice was grim.
