Page 36 of Ghost in the Night

Before Myah can snap at him, I jump in.

“How about we do both?” I suggest. “Go inside and feel around, but also get Robby’s robot to go places that aren’t safe.”

“If you don’t believe, just say that and get out the way!” Myah yells at Robby.

“I’m just trying to help you not die falling through the floor of some house ’cause you THINK there’s a ghost and THINK it’s Mr. Truman. What if he doesn’t want to talk to us? What if doesn’t know who murdered him, or what happened to Jabari? What if Jabari just ran off and joined the circus or something?”

Myah rolls up the blueprint. “And his uncle just ended up getting killed? You make no sense!”

I sigh. “Okay. Robby’s got a point.”

Myah whirls around. “Oh, so now you don’t believe either?”

“No! I mean, yes. I just … it would make more sense for it to be the Myers House ghost.”

“Or it’s Mr. Truman,” she shoots back.

“Or it’s neither of them and you two are chasing nothing,” Robby groans.

We both look at him this time, and he backs away, hands up in surrender.

“Okay, real talk,” I say with a sigh. “The one thing I don’t understand, the one thing that keeps bothering me, is why Tim Truman’s ghost wants to stay in Calhoun Square. What was so special about that house?”

Myah thinks on it. “Maybe … it’s the spot he was murdered? Maybe he was chased there by the murderer?”

“Maybe he was taking a ghost tour,” Robby says with a chuckle.

Myah snorts. “Ain’t no Black people around here gonna go on no ghost tours.”

“No. But … didn’t he used to run his own tour?” I ask, remembering what Lena and others at the memorial had said.

Myah eyes widen. “Quick! GoogleTim Truman’s Tours.”

Robby returns to the computer and pulls up the tour website. On the About page is a picture of Tim Truman,standing in front of a large white passenger van, cheesing hard.

Robby reads out loud: “?‘Welcome! My name is Tim Truman, and I’m happy to take you on a Heritage Tour, where you’ll learn about the African American history here in Savannah. We start our tour at the First African Baptist Church.’?”

“That’s around the corner,” Myah shouts. “It’s the oldest Black church in the country. Wait.” Myah hurries away for a minute and comes back with a rolled-up scroll. She unravels and spreads it out on the cutting table. It’s a map of Savannah.

“Daddy used to print these tourist maps a long time ago for some of the hotels,” Myah explains and points on the map. “This is where we are. The church is here. And Calhoun Square is here.”

Robby keeps reading. “?‘On this tour we’ll stop by places like the African-American Monument, the Civil Rights Museum, and the Beach Institute.’?”

“That last one’s the first school for newly freed slaves,” Myah says, dragging her finger across the map and circlingthe area. “The Beach Institute is only a few blocks from Calhoun Square.”

I grab my camera bag and head for the door. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“What? Where?”

“All those places must know Tim Truman. Maybe they know why he was obsessed with that house in Calhoun Square.”

TWELVE

Theblue-and-white sign hanging off the side of the building looks like it would swing in the wind if it wasn’t so hot.

THE BEACH INSTITUTE 1867.

AFRICAN AMERICAN CULTURAL CENTER