3. The Ghost Whisperer-2
503 Words
Malcolm is not at our office by the time I arrive there, but his brother Nigel is. Nigel, who is also an Armand. Nigel, who knows a thing or two about ghosts, even if those things came from swallowing them. He’s recently recovered from his addiction to that. Although sometimes his eyes glimmer, like he’s contemplating a tasty sprite. He is also our resident computer expert. I hand him Mistress Armand’s brochure.
“Whoa.” Nigel runs a hand through his pure white hair. “She’s … intense.”
“A relation?”
“Not that I know of, but—” He shrugs. “The Armand family tree is kind of scattered.”
He studies the brochure for a moment, then glances up, dazzling me with a rare smile. “She has a domain name. Where there’s a domain, there’s a trail. Let’s follow it.”
His hands fly over the keyboard while I pull up a chair to watch.
“Here we go,” he says. “Looks like she maintains a static webpage. Not much here.”
I lean forward for a glimpse of Mistress Armand’s website.
Let Mistress Armand whisper the ghosts from your life. Guaranteed. Effective. Heal yourself and watch the ghosts flee.
I roll my eyes.
“Not impressed?” Nigel asks.
“Not really. She knew all about Sadie’s marriage, and how Harold cheated on her, and probably how he died, too.”
“How did he die?”
“In bed, with another woman.”
Nigel cringes. “Really? Poor Sadie.”
“Do you think she researches a town,” I say, “then uses that as a starting point for cold readings?”
Really, it wouldn’t be that hard to scan the newspapers for tidbits and then ask a few questions around town. Harold Lancaster’s obituary was coy, but if you knew what to look for, you could read between the lines.
And although I haven’t met her, Mistress Armand strikes me as the sort of person who knows how to read between the lines.
“Probably,” Nigel says. “You can find out almost anything on the Internet these days.”
“But why use your last name?”
“To get our attention?” A new voice joins the conversation.
Malcolm stands in the doorway to the conference room, which also doubles as Nigel’s work area.
“What’s your take on all this?” Nigel asks.
Malcolm gives a half laugh and shakes his head.
“Is she …?” Nigel points to Mistress Armand’s portrait. “In person?”
“Oh, yeah, and then some.”
“What?” I demand. “She’s what?” I glance from one brother to the other, but neither one will meet my gaze.
Nigel clears his throat. “Anyway, here’s the thing about having a domain name. Even though her registration is private, we can take a trip in the Internet Wayback Machine to see if she’s always been Mistress Armand.”
He clacks the keyboard some more. Then, in triumph, he pushes back from his desk, fists raised in the air. “Lady and gentleman, meet Mistress Ramone.”
Malcolm leans over one shoulder. I take the other. The website is unchanged except for the last name in the center of the screen.
Nigel peers up at his brother. “We should get on the ghost forums, see if anyone is chatting about her.”
I almost never bother with the ghost forums since anything there is either completely wrong, or so filled with hyperbole it might as well be. But in this case, maybe it’s just what we need.
Nigel pulls his chair closer to the desk and leans forward like he’s about to run a race. “I’m on it.”
- Writer
