The Ghost and The Haunted Mansion: A Haunted Bookshop Mystery

troubled spirit seeking a way to cope with her burgeoning psychic gifts. I have been guiding her way ever since.”
    “I was under the impression Miss Tuttle was your employee.”
    “Ophelia is much more than that,” he said. “She’s the most gifted medium I’ve ever known.”
    I raised an eyebrow. Now I knew where a reserved and mannered lawyer like Mr. Stoddard crossed paths with a young woman as dark and edgy as Miss Tuttle. Apparently it was somewhere on the astral plane.
    “You said the society is headquartered in Newport? Didn’t you have an office there, Mr. Stoddard?”
    “And I will again, once the building our group has purchased is refurbished. My Millstone office is only temporary.”
    “Inconvenient for your Newport clients,” I noted, wondering whether to believe him.
    “There are so few of them nowadays,” he replied. “I’ve given up most of my practice to devote more time to the society. Our architects are creating a facility that is specifically designed to aid our psychic investigations. My legal offices will be on the premises.”
    “I see Leo Rollins is here.” I gestured to the dark corner. “Is he a member?”
    “Leo is working on our facility in Newport, and he’s assisting us tonight with the electrical system.” Stoddard frowned. “You see, electrical fields interfere with communications from the astral plane, so we banish all such devices from our psychic sessions.”
    It was also a neat dodge to avoid having the results of such sessions verified by recordings and video, but I kept my mouth shut. We all turned when two more guests entered the room.
    “Ah. There you are, Mrs. Fromsette.”
    I was stunned to see the woman from Seymour’s party, black mourning shawl still swaddled around her narrow shoulders. Her daughter, April Briggs, was here with her—which was what stunned Seymour. He suddenly found himself caught between two eligible women who both obviously liked him.
    “Er, hello, April,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. Rachel had been reading his palm. His hand was still cradled in hers and it didn’t appear she was letting it go anytime soon.
    April’s face flashed with obvious jealousy. She quickly masked it with a tight smile. “Good to see you again, Seymour. I didn’t know you were interested in . . . all of this psychic stuff.”
    From the way April was glaring at Rachel, I didn’t get the impression she’d actually meant “psychic stuff.”
    “Well, I guess I could say the same about you,” Seymour replied.
    April rolled her eyes. “It all seems silly to me. No offense, but I’m not here to commune with the spirit world. I’m here to support my mother.”
    “Perhaps we’ll change your mind,” Stoddard said, “for tonight we’re going to attempt to contact the spirit of Mr. Arthur Fromsette—” He glanced at Seymour. “And if we can, we’ll also seek an answer to your vexing mystery, see if we can’t get in touch with the spirit of Miss Todd.”
    Mrs. Fromsette blinked back tears. “I know my Arthur is gone, but I hope to learn what really happened to him. I feel very hopeful about tonight because Miss Delve comes highly recommended.”
    I tensed, my mind racing. Stoddard and his group operated out of Newport, a place with old family histories as well as old money. Could this be a brand-new version of what Gideon Wexler was most likely doing on Long Island back in the 1940s: bilking wealthy, gullible people out of their fortunes—only this time, using real spirits instead of fake scares?
    Miss Tuttle strolled past me, a smirk on her pale face. “It’s time to start.”
    I moved to sit down at the big table. Instead, Mr. Stoddard told me to stand back. Ophelia and Leo Rollins then moved the table out of the way. They placed the chairs in a tight circle. Ophelia set that single burning candle in the center of the darkened dining room.
    “Please be seated, everyone,” Stoddard said. “Take any chair.”
    Rachel Delve sat down beside Stoddard, feet together, hands folded in her lap. Seymour tried to grab the seat beside her, but April was faster and snagged it.
    “Sit here, Seymour,” she said, patting the empty seat on her opposite side. I saw a flash of relief on Seymour’s face when April’s mother took that chair instead. I grabbed the spot beside Mrs. Fromsette, and Seymour sat beside me. The circle was uncomfortably tight. I had to be careful not to knock over the candle.
    When everyone else was seated, Miss Tuttle