The Giannelli ghosts and their friends

Curtis

Hyacinth.

I stared at the necklace in my hand with more questions floating in my mind than ever. I had no idea who Hyacinth Giannelli was until I met the owner of this necklace, and I had assumed it was her name. Besides, I asked her and she nodded.

But again, she was only four or five—six, at most. What if she didn’t hear what I asked and simply nodded reflexively? She had to be terrified with everything going on around her, after all.

I did the math in my head a dozen more times despite having the answer already. Angelica looked nothing like a nineteen or twenty year old. She was not lying about her age and Heston had done a background check that included her age and birthday. I couldn’t explain why her mother’s name also happened to be Hyacinth but no matter what insane series of coincidences and mixed up backgrounds was going on, one thing was certain. She was not the daughter of Romanos Giannelli.

With this in mind, I went back to the living room intending to interrog