“I hear you’re staying in Collum’s old suite—the old master’s suite.”
“It’s where my cousin has asked us to stay, yes,” Devin said.
“I guess you’re not the scared type then,” Gary said. “No, you’re not. To be honest, I looked you up. Krewe of Hunters, eh? You’re FBI. I am a bit confused. Collum died of a heart attack. And the FBI has no jurisdiction here.”
“Kelly is my cousin; we’re here to be with her,” Devin explained quickly.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Gary said. “We’re all hurting from the loss of Collum. St. Paddy’s Day won’t be the same without him, but—tradition. Time marches on and cares little for any one man, eh? Well, I’m curious, I must say. Some call you people the ‘ghost unit.’ Are you a ghost unit? Does the American government really believe in such a thing?”
“That question from a man who goes by the moniker ‘Gary the Ghost,’” Rocky said lightly.
“I make my living telling such tales,” Gary said. “And real history, too, of course—stranger and sadder than most ghost stories. But, alas! The world enjoys a good scare and luckily for me, Irish folk are full of fancy. I apologize again—I didn’t mean to be rude. But…I am a historian and a curious type. Like I said, when Kelly told me that you were coming and that you were with the law in America, I looked you up.”
“When we’re working,” Rocky said, “we investigate cases that have something unusual about them—something unexplained. We find the explanations. But, I assure you, I’ve never heard of a case of a ghost murdering a man as of yet.”
“So, you’ve heard the suggestion that a ghost might have murdered old Collum?” Gary asked.
“Everyone seems to be edgy—with lots of talk about the banshee,” Rocky told him.
“That’s the rumor,” Gary said. He shrugged.
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