Bart knows everyone in town. Not even kidding. One time I was at a purportedly haunted house with a medium of some repute. She was asking “Who are you? What do you want?” and nothing, for like twenty minutes. And then, just as we were about to leave the basement, we heard a voice, clear as day, coming from the far, empty corner.
“Wait one moment, kind madam. You, there, with the curly hair. Are you, perchance, Bartholomew Phillips’s sister?”
I looked around, but there appeared to be no one else who fit the bill.
“Lovely man. We went fishing together some time ago and it was quite enjoyable.”
Later, I asked, “You know a ghost?”
“If you say so. I don’t get into people’s business like you do.”