“So Bertha was expecting a legacy she hasn’t received,” Manfred said. “Anything more pertinent?”

“Here’s the really good stuff. When we went into the study and Lewis was so upset, he was thinking about his mother and how scared he’d been that she would say something about Bertha to the psychic—you, Manfred. And he was wondering if Rachel’s will was going to mention Bertha.”

“Why would it?” Manfred sat for a minute. “What’s the connection? Has Bertha’s son been romancing one of Rachel’s daughters? But they’re both married women.”

“And they’re at least fifteen years older than him, going by appearances,” Olivia said. “I guess the son and Lewis could be having a thing, though I can’t imagine anyone being genuinely interested in Lewis sexually.”

Barry snickered. “I can’t, either.”

“You can hear people’s deepest secrets,” Olivia said. “Manfred can talk to dead people. I feel very plain compared to your skill set.”

“What I do has its weak points,” Barry said. “People don’t always think in an orderly way, with background. They know all the background. So you’re left with lots of gaps. You have to be careful not to fill them in yourself.”

Olivia said, “Your life must be one long trail of disillusionment.”

He nodded. “You’re about right. That’s a good way to put it.”

Manfred was trying to think of something positive to say when Barry stood up. “Okay,” he said. “I think that’s it. I just wanted to tell you that and collect my money. I got to get back to Shorty. He’s not having a good day. I think moving him from Vegas was a mistake. Mrs. Whitefield says he’s seemed mentally fuzzy ever since he arrived. When I’d call him in Vegas, he wasn’t that off base.”

Manfred got out his wallet (stocking up on cash was another thing he’d done in Davy) and handed Barry the agreed amount. As soon as the door closed behind the telepath, Olivia said, “What’s really interesting is what they’ll decide to do with Shorty once they’ve found he actually has to go into some kind of home and they can’t really keep him in the hotel any longer. If all the old people are just window dressing, what’s going to keep them from dumping them out in the desert? What could be the purpose of this?”

Manfred nodded. “I could swear Lenore Whitefield isn’t a villain. She really believes she’s there to keep her guests happy until they move on to their final destination. Ah . . . that sounds way more gruesome than I intended. What I’m trying to say is, she doesn’t have any designs on them.”