Biblical by Christopher Galt

don’t ask yourself if the dog or the Frisbee are really there or not.”
    “Know something?” said Macbeth. “I think I heard of another case. Just before we met up tonight, my taxi driver told me about a fare who yelled at him to stop because he thought he’d seen a kid in the middle of the road. But there was no kid. The fare was on his way to the Christian Science Church.”
    “Gabriel?”
    Macbeth shrugged.
    Corbin remained silent for a moment, bony shoulders hunched in his tweed jacket, elbows resting on the canteen table. “There’s something else, John. Something much nearer to home. Literally.”
    “Okay …” said Macbeth. “Let’s have it.”
    “It’s not just the increased workload that’s been running me ragged. I’ve not been sleeping much. Nor has Joanna. It’s the house …”
    “The one you’re fixing up in Beacon Hill?”
    “Yeah. And I don’t mean the work or stress of fixing it up. I mean things that go bump in the night.” He paused, looking at Macbeth almost as if judging whether he could trust him. “You remember the story I told you about the house? Marjorie Glaiston?”
    “The society beauty’s murder on your stairs? Yeah, I remember …”
    Corbin leaned further forward, holding Macbeth in a steady gaze. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve heard her singing, at night. And laughing.”
    “What?”
    “And there’s more. I’ve seen her, John. Marjorie Glaiston.”
    “You’re kidding me …’ Macbeth laughed disbelievingly. “You’re seriously telling me your new house is haunted? That you’ve seen a ghost?”
    “No. Not a ghost. Ghosts don’t exist. We both know that. What I experienced was a hallucination. I saw Marjorie Glaiston walk down the stairs. No dramatic scene, just her moving from the bedroom, down the stairs and into the living room, as she must have done countless times while she lived there. One of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Except I could not possibly have seen her.”
    “God, Pete … it could be something and nothing, you know that. A combination of stress, lack of sleep and stuff you’ve read about the case and forgotten you read.”
    “Except for one thing: Joanna was standing beside me when I saw Marjorie Glaiston on our stairs. She saw her too, John. If this was a delusion, it was one I shared with my wife.” Corbin held Macbeth with a gaze that was as earnest as his exhaustion would allow. “Whatever it is that’s caused this epidemic of delusional episodes that I’ve been treating patients for over the last few months, Gabriel was right … I’ve got it too.”

10

JOSH HOBERMAN. MARYLAND
    The introduction was more than superfluous; it was ridiculous.
    Of course Hoberman recognized the woman the instant she walked into the lounge room of the lodge. He had never met her before, never seen her in the flesh, but hers was one of the most famous faces in the world. Nevertheless, Jack Ward introduced her to Hoberman as Elizabeth Yates. President of the United States of America.
    President Yates was taller than Hoberman had expected. And as she crossed the room to shake hands with him, she projected that amplified presence that the truly powerful seemed naturally to possess. She was fifty-six with hair dyed a shade that was obviously an attempt to match the strawberry blonde of her youth. She had clearly been a striking-looking woman, but her beauty had matured into an almost masculine handsomeness. The most impressive thing about her was her eyes: bright, crystalline blue; eyes that made even the most casual glance deeply penetrating and added yet more power to her presence.
    She was dressed in a dark blue suit, as she habitually was. On one jacket lapel was a presidential pin, on the other an enameled stars and stripes. Suspended from the chain at her neck was the symbol that had caused most controversy. The cross that Hoberman knew the President now only wore in private.
    For the third time, Hoberman was thanked