“We’ll plan on that. Scott is very eager to read your story in the Saturday Evening Post. I’m sure you’ll hear from him once it’s published.”
The generosity made me shake my head in disbelief. “That’s wonderful.”
“I’m leaving in the morning at five.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “It’s not too late to come with me. We can take turns driving, the three of us.”
We heard a knock at the door, and Althea came to the sunroom holding an envelope. “It’s for you, Mrs. James.”
I took the heavy cream envelope, aware that everyone in the room was curious but too polite to ask. The postmark was from West Point, Mississippi. I opened the flap and withdrew a single note.
Dear Mrs. James and Mr. Proctor,
I turn to you with complete desperation. I’ve heard that you have been successful in solving mysteries that seem not to have a rational explanation. Can you please help me?
My husband and I, with our young daughter, have recently bought a home in West Point known as Waverley Mansion. It’s a beautiful home on the Tombigbee River, with lovely grounds and a quiet history. We’ve been happy here, meeting our neighbors and settling into the life we always dreamed of living.
Recently, though, our happy home has been shattered by the strange behavior of our daughter, Amanda. She’s eight years old and normally a sunny child who loves other children and playing. In the last four weeks, her personality has deteriorated, and I find her alone in the third-floor rotunda talking to an empty room. She has also begun sleepwalking.
She claims there is a child in the house, her playmate, Nan. But there is no other child here. No living child. Would you consider coming to Waverley Mansion to explore the phenomena? You’ll be richly compensated, and my husband will pay all travel expenses.
Please say yes. My daughter’s life may depend upon it.
Best,
Anne Sheridan
I gave the note to Reginald, who read it quickly and looked at me, one eyebrow cocked. “Another case? We seem to be in demand.”
“I’d hoped for a break.” I didn’t really want to go to West Point, but Mrs. Sheridan sounded so desperate.
Reginald read the note out loud to the group.
“West Point’s not too far beyond Tuscaloosa,” Judge Sayre said. “It would be much easier to go there by train in the morning, and then you could take the Tombigbee River home in one of your uncle’s riverboats. The downriver trip will go much faster.”
“How exciting!” Zelda took the note from Reginald and read it out loud again. “A haunted child. That sounds delicious.”
“Zelda!” Minnie reprimanded. “I can feel the mother’s despair.”
The problem was that I could, too. “I suppose we should check it out.” I realized it didn’t sound gracious, but I truly was tired.
“Indeed,” Reginald said. “After this case, a haunted child should be a snap.”
I didn’t feel that at all, but it seemed I would at least find out the parameters of this new haunting.
“I’ll change your accommodations on the steamship,” Zelda said. “We can get you on the train first thing. I’d drive you but—”
“I believe your husband is waiting for you to return to him,” I said. “The train will be fine.”
“Then let’s have dinner and another round of this delicious lemonade,” Zelda said. “Tonight we play, for tomorrow is a day of labor.” She turned to my partner. “Butt me, Reginald.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many, many thanks to the Amazon team, including Jessica Tribble, Ed Stackler, and Robin O’Dell. I turned in a pretty good yarn, and Jessica, Ed, Robin, and Jill Kramer made it sing. Editing is an art as unique and difficult as writing. It’s such a privilege to work with such fine editors.
My writing career has marched side by side with my friendship with Marian Young, my agent. Thank you.
Many thanks to Rebecca Barrett and Susan Tanner, who were first readers on this manuscript. When I wanted to veer off the trail of the story and chase rabbits, they brought me to heel. Not an easy task.
Thank you to my readers, who are so willing to give my stories a try. I always ask my university students the first question: Do you want to write for yourself, or do you want an audience? I’m a storyteller. I need an audience, and I have to say I have the best audience in the business. I work hard to write a compelling story, and my readers give me their hearts and a willing suspension of disbelief as they enter the worlds I create. It’s quite a relationship. I am privileged. As Raissa and Reginald delve into the world of 1920s spiritualism, I hope you’ll continue to explore with me.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Transorbital lobotomies were first medically documented in 1937, and I have played with the surgical timeline a little for the purposes of my story. The idea of opening the skull to eliminate mental illness dates back to the Neolithic era.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carolyn Haines is the USA Today bestselling author of more than seventy books, including the popular Sarah Booth Delaney Mississippi Delta mystery series and The Book of Beloved, the first novel in the Pluto’s Snitch mystery series. A native of Mississippi, Haines writes in multiple genres. She’s a recipient of the 2010 Harper Lee Award for Distinguished Writing and the 2009 Richard Wright Award for Literary Excellence. She has also been honored by Suspense Magazine and Romantic Times for best mystery series. An animal advocate, Haines founded a small 501c3 rescue, Good Fortune Farm Refuge. She cares for nine dogs, nine cats, and six horses.
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