Read Ghosts Know for Free Online Page A

accurate?”
    “You tell us. Herbert’s your real name, is it?”
    “It was one of them. It isn’t now.”
    “He got that, then, and the things that went on when you were a lad. He even knew you lived in Hulme and all about your grandpa.”
    “Not all about him. Not quite your usual style, is it, Frank?”
    “You’ll need to tell me what you mean, Graham.”
    I’d like to let him wonder for a while and demonstrate he’s less perceptive than he wants his audience to think, but I can’t leave a silence on the air. “You never said his name. Don’t say he’s forgotten that when you said he could remember so much else.”
    “Maybe he figured he didn’t need to mention it,” Jasper says. “Like you said, he told you so much that you recognised.”
    I’d be more infuriated by his deftness if I hadn’t thought of a trick of my own. “Can you ask him now?”
    “That isn’t how it works, Graham. I’m just the receiver. The spirits choose when they want to get in touch.”
    “You said yourself he wants me to acknowledge him.” I wish I’d let the playback reach that point. “You said he’s at my shoulder. I just need him to confirm his name.”
    “Gee, you sound like you’re running a security check on your own grandfather,” Jasper says, holding up his hands. “Do you really want me to try and raise him now he’s at peace?”
    He might be trying to look like a saint displaying stigmata—there’s even a scar on his left palm. I’m about to authorise him to rouse my grandfather when the sight of him seems to pinch the world into sharper focus, and I recall what he said earlier that I didn’t fully grasp. It feels as though I’ve discovered a talent quite as psychic as his, and I say “Do you think I could do it?”
    “It might take a while. If you want me to give you some tips—”
    “I thought you said everybody has the gift.”
    “Sure, but you need to develop it. If you’ve had no experience—”
    “I think I may be having one right now. It seems as if I’m being told something about you, Frank.”
    A hint of wariness fades from Jasper’s eyes. “Looks like you could be, sure enough.”
    “He means my headphones. I’ll say goodbye, Harry, but keep listening,” I say and perch them on top of the console. “Now they’re off and you’ll hear if any messages are coming through them, Frank. Do you want to keep an eye on the window to make sure nobody is signalling somehow?”
    He turns his chair halfway around as Christine gives me a bemused look, and I push his microphone closer to him. “It seems as though I’m hearing about that scar on your hand,” I tell him. “Didn’t it happen when you were a boy?”
    “Sure, that’s why it’s healed so much.”
    “I’m getting that it was made with a knife.” When this earns me only a tolerant gaze I say “Was it your knife? Didn’t you do it to yourself?”
    “I’ve grown up a whole lot since.”
    “No more than I have, Frank. Now I’m being led to believe your parents didn’t want you to have a knife.”
    “I guess not too many parents would.”
    “Yes, but we’re talking about yours. I’m hearing it was your father in particular. Didn’t he have a special reason to be concerned? I’m getting the impression it has to do with his job,” I say and watch Jasper’s unresponsive profile. “Wait, I’m seeing some kind of uniform. Was he in the police?”
    Jasper doesn’t face me. “He may have been.”
    “Surely you’d know, Frank. He wasn’t in the secret police, was he?” When Jasper still doesn’t glance at me I say “Now I’m seeing you in the open, at a table in the open. Was it under a tree? Wasn’t it an oak?”
    “I guess most of us have been someplace like that.”
    “That’s where I see you playing with your knife. Wasn’t it by a playground? You mustn’t think I’m blaming you. As you say, you were young. About twelve, would you have been? That’s the number I’m seeming to hear. And the