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Marsh nodded and put his own cup aside. First we must be honest with
each other. If you wish to hear from your dead relative, you must at least give me
your true name.
Why is that necessary? I told you, the more facts I feed you about either
myself or Lily, the more likely you ll invent some fiction to appease me.
If Marsh was irritated, he didn t betray it by more than a slight tightening of
his lips. Shall I continue to call you Robert Peeler, then?
Court hesitated. There was still the fraud investigation to consider, but his
undercover persona was already destroyed with Marsh. He should stick with the
pseudonym, yet he suddenly found himself blurting, Court. You may call me
Court.
Mr. Court. Marsh looked at him with a small, grave smile. He inclined his
head as if accepting the name. And I m still Oliver Marsh. I don t have a hidden
identity or a hidden agenda. The service I provide to my clients is real I comfort
them about the afterlife. I reassure them. There is no harm in what I do.
Court bit his tongue. There was plenty he could say about taking money
from grieving people for pretending to pass on messages from their departed
loved ones, but tonight he was here as a believer himself. Or mostly a believer. It
seemed apparent something otherworldly had happened at that séance. I m
ready to see if you are the genuine article. We should find out if you can make it
happen again.
I m not sure. Marsh blushed.
Go on, Court said. You don t know how to establish a true connection to
the dead, do you?
Marsh ignored him. It would be good if you had some personal possession
of the girl s I could hold. I should ve asked you to bring something.
I brought a photograph. Court went to where his greatcoat was hung and
took the tintype from the pocket. He returned to his seat and handed it to the
medium. My cousins, Lily and her older sister, Rose. She s the one on the left.
Marsh studied the photo. Lovely girls. He glanced up at Court. If I forgot
to say it last night, I m dreadfully sorry for your loss. A death in the family is
hard enough, but murder&
Yes. Thank you. Court cut him short. So, will that help? Can you begin
now?
Marsh set the photo on the table beside the candle. He nodded at Court s
teacup. Could you set that on the side table, please, and then take my hands.
Court obeyed, removing the cup and hesitating only a moment before
grasping the other man s hands. They were warm and dry and slender in his
grip. Long fingers wrapped around the backs of his hands, palm slid over palm,
and Court fought back the tingle of excited anticipation that shot through him.
His body reacted beyond his control, imagining he was there for some other
purpose. He steadied his breathing and concentrated. Now what?
Marsh s lashes shielded his eyes. We wait, he murmured.
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