Clara pointed a finger at him. Youd better do something, before the stories about this house become so real that no one will pay for the tours. You cant keep this place up on a sheriffs salary alone.
Thank you, Clara. Ill take that under advisement. But then again, you know, Penny is certain that a documented haunting would make us as rich as Midas.
Clara was startled when Matt frowned suddenly and walked over to her. What happened to your face?
To my face? Clara frowned as well, and walked over to the mirror. Her cheek was red and mottled, as if shed been slapped, and slapped hard.
She turned and stared at him. Ghosts dont menace people, huh?
Clara, Matt said. Think about it! You must have run into something in your hurry to get out of the room!
Clara eyed him sharply and shook her head. Matt, the stories have circulated for years. People have sworn that theyve seen soldiers in the downstairs rooms. Theyve seen a lady in white, floating down the stairway. Ghosts that fit in with history. Its only been in recent years, since your grandfather died, that things have gotten really serious. Remember how Randy Gustav quit after staying a night in the Lee Room? He wouldnt even explain what happened to you. Its only in the last few years thatthat the ghosts kind of threaten to get violent.
There are no such things as ghosts.
Oh, yeah? One just gave me a bruise!
With that, Clara indignantly walked out on him, calling back over her shoulder, Matt, youre a hell of a man. Thats why Im staying. Believe it or dont, but youd better do something about that particular ghostthat doesnt exist in your mind.
That evening, having returned home very late from work, Matt sat at the desk in his suite in the main house, going through correspondence.
There was a tap at his door.
Come in.
Penny stuck her head in. Am I bothering you, Matt?
Not at all.
She walked in and sat on the corner of his desk. Matt, you have to do something over this latest episode with Clara.
Oh? He leaned back in his chair.
Clara was hurt!
Penny, please. Im sorry, I think the world of Clara, were friends from way back, and I gave her the rest of the day off with pay. She had to have run into something.
Penny shook her head.
He leaned forward suddenly, abruptly. Penny, you wouldnt be playing some kind of game up there, determined to convince the rest of the world, if not me, that the place is haunted?
She gaped at him in such affront that he was immediately sorry.
Matt, I would never
But maybe someone would.
Maybe, Penny agreed grudgingly. She wagged a finger at him. You know, you are far too trusting at times. Too many people could have access to this place.
Penny, Im not too trusting. Were a fairly small town.
Penny shook her head decisively. Youre right, of course. But youve got to remember that even in our small town we have had a few pretty grisly murders. Why cant you just accept the fact that something strange is going on?
Penny, youve wanted nothing more than a real ghost for years.
Penny shook her head, suddenly troubled. Ghoststhat cause a cold spot, or breeze by, orI dont think this is a good ghost, she murmured.
She patted his desk, rummaging through the unopened letters. What about that letter you got from Harrison Investigations? Call Adam. You respect him. He was friends with your grandfather long ago.
He groaned.
Please, Matt. Youve suggested that maybe someone is breaking in, or doing something to make it appear that there are ghosts. Adam can tell you whats real, and whats not.
What he perceives as real, Matt muttered.
Hey, Ive followed some of what hes done. Last year, he and some of his colleagues proved that the haunting of an old mining camp was nothing more than two modern prospectors digging for gold.
Great. I call in Ghostbusters and become the laughingstock of the town. I might as well find a new place to live.
Penny shook her head. Matt, maybe they can just do the same thing here. She hopped off the edge of the table. Please, promise me youll think about it, at least.
She left him, closing the door softly in her wake.
Matt walked to his own set of French doors out to the wraparound balcony. The moon was full. In the distance, he could see the vague shape of the mountains, and the sweep of the valley. God, he loved this area. Loved the house, the stables, but mostly, just the natural beauty of the area.
He returned to his desk, reflective. Claras face had been marked, as if she had been hit. He still didnt believe in ghosts, but
He reflected on the number of people who lived on the property. Penny, Sam, Clint, Carter, even Clara now and then, and through the years gone by, various friends and relatives. Could someone have set the place up so that it appeared haunted?
He strode to the Lee Room, searched under the bed, in the closet, all around. Nothing.
Still
He returned to his own suite, toyed with Adam Harrisons letter for a moment, and picked up the phone. He dialed Harrisons number. They spoke briefly. Matt, good to hear from you.
You werent certain that you would? Matt queried dryly.
Nope. Not this time.
You know I dont believe in the supernatural in any way, shape, or form.
Im aware of that.
If you come down here, Im only having you because I think youll be able to prove that I dont have ghosts.
Maybe, Adam agreed.
When can you come?
My schedule is a bit of a mess, butIll arrange to see you soon.
And according to your letter, Adam, youre going to pay me?
Yes. And like I said, I am anxious. Ill arrange something as soon as possible.
You can usually find me around lunchtime at the Wayside Inn.
All right, my office manager will call, set a date.
Good, Matt said. Look forward to seeing you, Adam.
Adam Harrison was still talking when Matt hung up the phone. He stared at it, already thinking that he had made one hell of a mistake.
On the other end, Adam Harrison, too, stared at his phone. He did so with fond amusement. Hed always liked Matt. My boy. Youre about to learn a lesson. All the courage, brain power, and brawn in the world cant cut it against a real ghost, he said softly. Ah, well.
He had meant to warn Matt that he wasnt even sure he could come himself right away, that hed be sending his topnotch aide.
But he didnt want to call back. Matt Stone wasnt at all pleased with this arrangement, even though he was surely having trouble.
It would all be fine. Darcy could handle any man, living
Or dead.
2
From the moment she walked into the bar, Darcy felt at a distinct disadvantage.
It was called the Wayside Inn. It should have been called Bubbas Back-then Barn.
She was nearly overcome by the wave of smoke that almost knocked her over when she opened the door; it sat like a fog over the decades-old plastic booths and bar stools. There were two pool tables to the left, stuffed away from what might have been used, at times, as a dance floor.
There were actually still a few spittoons for tobacco chewers scattered around.
When she stepped in and the door closed behind her, the place came to a standstill. The four pool players and the broken-toothed wonders watching the games all stopped their play and stared at her. Behind the bar, a heavyset woman with teased red hair styled in something like a sixties beehive looked up from washing glasses. In what looked to be a dining area, the four men seated at one of the chipped wood tables also looked up.
She stood in the miasma of smoke and stared around, taking it in as her eyes adjusted from the sunlight. And she knew, instantly, that Adam was the one who should have come here. And he should have worn jeans and an old plaid or denim work shirt. Of course, the concept of Adam dressed that way was an amusing one, but Adam was a determined man. And for some reason, he was determined that they were getting into Melody House.
She had come in a business suit, the same attire she usually wore when conducting business, she reminded herself, defending her choice of clothing when she was so obviously out of place. But though she hadnt imagined the Wayside Inn to be a five-star restaurant, she hadnt thought that it would be quite thiscolloquial.
Can I help you, honey? the redhead called from behind the bar. Her voice was warm and friendly, giving Darcy a bit of encouragement. She smiled in return. But before she could reply, one of the men whod been sitting at the table had risen.
Miss?
He was tall, somewhat lanky, and when he smiled, she saw that he had all his teeth, and a single dimple in his left cheek. Light brown eyes, and a pleasant way about him; he seemed to ooze accent and Southern charm with his single word.
Im looking for a man named Matt Stone. I was supposed to meet him here. She hoped that one of the men knew Stone. She didnt think that he was among them. Shed already pictured him in her mind. He was the descendant of a man who was practically a Founding Father. He would be tall, straight, and aging with incredible dignity. He might be one of the those fellows who sat around Revolutionary or Civil War round tables, rehashing the past. He might have a certain attitude about him, but hed still be an incredible old gentleman.
Hey, honey, you can meet me! one of the pool players called out.
Watch your manners, Carter! one of the others said, and another sniggered.
At the table, another of the men stood.
Come in, have a seat, he said.
She had to admit, this fellows jeans fit him well, hugging leans hips, strong legs, and some solid length. He was wearing shades, even inside, in the cloud of smokemaybe he thought that theyd protect his eyes from the haze. He was well over six feet, ebony hair a little too long, but apparently clean and brushed. He was clean-shaven, maybe thirty, thirty-five. Strong, solid features. While the first fellow to approach her had been polite and laid-back, his face splitting instantly into an easy grin in the first few seconds, this one looked as if he might have been chiseled on Mount Rushmore. Though he had stood courteously enough and asked her to sit, he looked as if he were entirely impatient, more like a man about to suggest that she go jump in a lake.
She walked over to the table. The first manhe with the great dimplehad drawn out a chair for her. She looked at the other two who had been sitting at the table, now risen, as she approached. One was older, white-haired, white-bearded. She kept imagining him in a butternut and gray Confederate Army uniform. The fourth in the party was somewhere around thirty as well, had a decent haircut, and was actually in a tailored shirt and chinos, and looked as if he might have a real job somewhere in a civilized town.
Whats your business here? the tall, chiseled-face man asked abruptly, sitting as he did so. They all stared at her.
My name is Darcy Tremayne. I had an appointment with Matt Stone. I was supposed to meet him here. I believe Im in the right place. Do any of you know him?
She spoke evenly and politelyshe was here on business. But she felt as if hostility oozed around her. She longed to bolt from the chair and fly out the door. She knew that everyone in the bar was still staring at her.
Know him? the tall, lanky fellow with the dimple said.
But he was interrupted. The man Darcy had mentally begun to refer to as Chisel-face cut him off. Are you one of the psychics? he asked.
Darcy arched a brow. Be pleasant with the locals, Adam had told her.
All right, she could be friendly.
I suppose you could say that. Im with Harrison Investigations, she said. This was definitely a small town. Okay, so she had come from a fairly small town herself, but this one seemed even more rural. Maybe that was because shed spent so many years in New York, and had been living in the D.C. area for so long now. It seemed that any event regarding Melody House was news in the area, and that everyone knew everyone elses business.
A real live ghost buster? the fellow with the dimple teased.
Ghost buster? She ever so slightly hiked a brow once again, sitting back, determined that she would be cool, cordial, and dignified. Harrison Investigations is actually a small, private company, and what we do is investigate strange occurrences in old homes and the like. She smiled. Most of the time, we find squeaky floorboards and leaky plumbing, but when a place is as historically relevant as Melody House, the history alone could create a very old and spiritual feeling.
Melody House is pretty damned cool, the dimpled man said, flashing another warm smile.
The old white-haired codger spoke up. Ms. Tremayne, lots of folks have come wanting to set up cameras, tape machines, and all kinds of hocus-pocus stuff at Melody House. The owner has just flat-out told them no.
Yes, well, thats why Im anxious to meet Matt Stone. Mr. Harrison and he are well acquainted. Mr. Stone respects my employer, and knows that were not sensationalist in any way. We know history and architecture, and people, and naturally, were very discreet. I can understand any hesitation Mr. Stone has had in the past. Im sure that many people come ready to cash in on the ghosts.
I see, interrupted Chisel-face. Youre here to investigate some of the eerie stories associated with the house, but youre not trying to cash in on ghosts? His voice was deep, the words were evenly spoken; somehow, they still dripped scorn.
No. Ive just explained. Were investigators.
Um, Chisel-face murmured. He stared at her hard. You said that most of the time what you discovered was creaky floorboards or leaky plumping. What happens when its not most of the time?
We do our best to right matters, she said, wishing that shed never gotten into the conversation.
And how do you do that? Without, of course, making a bid to fascinate peopleor cash in on the ghosts.
She hesitated. She didnt really need to be having this conversation with a skeptic; she was looking for Matt Stone. But they were indeed in a small town. And Adam had suggested that she do her best to get along with the locals. In such a place, they were usually full of information, and could be very helpful. She shrugged. Adam wanted it; she could try to be social.
Some ghosts are actually a part of history, and its the history that creates the legends that make them so fascinating to people. Some home owners and even corporationsespecially those with places as significant as Melody Housewant to have a resident ghost rapping on walls now and then to attract their clientele. Watch television, and youll know that theres a huge population out there interested in being frightened. What we do is find out first if there actually is any inexplicable phenomenaor if someone is merely playing games. If there is something beyond the ordinary, we find out why, and deal with it from that point, Darcy said, staring at the man, and returning all the attitude she was being given. Adam Harrison had already spoken with Matt Stone, and apparently, done so with enough dignity that he had agreed to the meeting. Actually, Stone had called Adam, after receiving his letter. And whether or not Stone wanted his property turned into a national center for the occult, he apparently could use the exorbitant fee that Adam had been willing to pay for his team to investigate the stories circulating about the house. She knew historic mansions were incredibly hard to maintain. Especially when they were being held privately. She was suddenly angry with herself for having been intimidated by the good old boys in the bar. Hell. Shed spent enough years in a very similar environment, and that should have prepared her to deal with any form of male that pretended to walk on two feet. She had also dealt with her fair share of total, mocking skeptics. Usually, no manner of behavior bothered her. She had her beliefs, and everyone else in the world was welcome to their own. People who really wanted help usually came and asked for it.