 
# THE ADVENTURES OF MORIARTY AND WATSON

THE CASE OF THE OLD HAUNTED HOUSE

BY

PHOEBE CATHERINE STEVENS

Copyright 2015 by Phoebe Catherine Stevens

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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## Prologue

Once upon a time, in a city much like any other, there was a high rise building that housed an organization like no other.

And that was a very fortunate thing.

Inside this building a door opened to the office of Mr. Solitaire.

"Sir, do you have a minute?"

"Of course," the older gentleman answered his subordinate. "Did something interesting come up?"

The neatly dressed man in his late twenties came forward and handed his superior a sheet of paper.

"It could be."

The distinguished looking man took the paper, then leaned back in his leather executive chair and began to read. As he did so, the other man had to stop himself from sighing with envy. How he wished he could afford custom-made suits. However, he knew that as the mere deputy to Mr. Solitaire he would have to raise several pay grades before even coming near to fulfilling that dream.

As he waited, he studied some framed photographs. Included were pictures of an older woman and children of various ages. _Someone had a very nice family_ , he thought.

After a moment, Mr. Solitaire handed the paper back to him, and asked, "You think this might come to something?"

"It's the coincidence that I noticed. It may be nothing."

"But it could be something," Mr. Solitaire mused as he unconsciously smoothed back his neatly trimmed gray hair.

Finally he came to a decision.

"I suggest you take this to Ms. Kanéna. She'll take care of you."

This was what Mr. Draughts had wanted and expected, but knew he had to go through the proper channels. It was safer that way.

"Thank you for your time."

Mr. Draughts exited the office and walked down the hallway until he reached the large desk at the end of it. Ms. Kanéna was seated behind it, inputting data into her computer efficiently. From the top of her short blond hair to the tips of her expensive Italian shoes, she had the unmistakable aura of cool efficiency.

The fact that she appeared to be a subordinate was ironic and meant absolutely nothing. The power she wielded, however, that meant everything.

"Excuse me . . ."

He stopped abruptly as she held up a finger. After she finished inputting her sentence, she turned to him, and straightened her perfectly pressed powder blue jacket. She then folded her hands on top of her desk and asked politely, "How may I help you?"

Once again, Mr. Draughts held out the paper.

"Mr. Solitaire thought you might be interested in this."

Calmly she took it and glanced over it.

"Yes, I recall this incident. Very poorly handled."

"SPN was a difficult acquisition, and mistakes were made."

Even as Mr. Draughts said this, he was fully aware that he was repeating old news to her. Ms. Kanéna already knew everything that went on within these walls.

In response to his observation, Ms. Kanéna gave him a brief look which only barely masked her disgust. That look made Mr. Draughts thankful that the 'mistakes' involved hadn't been made by him.

"Mistakes? Indeed. Starting with the worst possible choice for the position of transition intermediary. One offhand comment at a party and he panics causing a media sensation, and a substandard resolution. If it can even be called a resolution. I have my doubts. So she landed at NLBN? Leo Dante's station?"

"That's what I noticed. You think it might be a problem?"

"As you well know, Mr. Dante is a continuing issue that doesn't seem to resolve itself. It's bothersome."

"Did you note the last paragraph?" Mr. Draughts asked.

"Yes, very humorous. If I remember properly," and of course she did, "he was involved in another acquisition two years ago. Things didn't end well for him, but he is very good at his job, from all reports. It's a pity he didn't fit the Business Model."

"Neither does she."

The perfectly made-up face of Ms. Kanéna frowned slightly before she continued.

"It would seem that Mr. Dante has a troubling habit of collecting inconvenient strays."

"A coincidence?"

Ms. Kanéna did not answer him, merely giving a slight shrug of her shoulders. After reading a few more lines of the paper in her hand she asked skeptically, "The paranormal? Seriously?"

"They are popular shows on television right now."

"True enough. Still it seems odd . . ."

There was silence yet again except for the tapping of one of her manicured fingernails against the desktop.

Mr. Draughts waited patiently well knowing that you tried to rush Ms. Kanéna at your peril. Finally she asked matter-of fact tone, "Were you wanting to open a file on the matter?"

"Mr. Solitaire said you would take care of it."

"Of course. Consider it taken care of."

Mr. Draughts, clearly dismissed, turned and walked away, leaving the paper with her.

Ms. Kanéna turned to the computer and saved the file she had been working on. After taking out a paper file folder, she removed the cover to an ancient manual typewriter. Placing a sheet of file labels into the roller, she positioned it and quickly typed a subject name. Removing the sheet she applied the label to the tab of the file folder, and the sheet of paper in the file.

It would soon be joined by many, many others.

## Chapter 1

It was said that The House was conceived as an act of spite and completed in one of petty revenge.

The builder, George Loren, was renowned as a miser of unfathomable proportions. He spent his long life accumulating a vast fortune, after which he was determined to spend as little of it as decently possible.

Decency being a relative term.

His first wife, the gentle but meek Martha, had been forced to merely endure his financial meanness until the day of her death, thus ending an unremarkable and pitiful existence.

However, the second Mrs. Loren, a local beauty named Nora, was of a different caliber altogether. She had been raised to believe she was owed the finer things this life had to offer. So, to her way of thinking, her rich, much older husband was obliged to meet her expectations, little knowing that George expected his new wife to simply accept her circumstances as his thoroughly cowed first wife had done.

Such opposing viewpoints were bound to result in conflict, which soon came to pass resulting in an epic battle where the final victor was far from certain.

And it all centered on a house.

Mere months after their marriage, Nora demanded that George replace their modest dwelling with a grand structure as befitted his new bride.

George, true to his character, was stubbornly defiant against such lofty, and expensive, notions. The old miser held out for quite some time, but at last, to end his wife's constant carping, he finally gave in.

On his own terms.

Terms which proved to be quite severe.

For instead of a dwelling of elegant refinement, George presented Poor Nora, as she came to be known, with a monstrosity of vulgar excess and poor design. Then, in what all agreed to be a final act of spite, he died, leaving his fortune in a complicated trust allowing his furious wife the funds to maintain, but not change, the architectural atrocity he had created.

Even worse for Poor Nora, although Old George never actually lived in The House, most say that he took up residence there after his death and never left.

Since that time, the ghost of George Loren has made life a misery for all who dared to live in there. Even to this day . . .

"That's quite a dramatic delivery," a soft female voice interrupted the tale. "Maybe you should be in front of the camera, not me."

## Chapter 2

Scott glanced over at his companion and couldn't help but feel a little peeved. The cameraman was not conceited by any means, but with his full head of dark hair, warm brown eyes, fit physique and rugged good looks, he was used to a more sympathetic hearing from the opposite sex.

Until he had met his new reporter back at studio the day before. It had proved to be memorable in more ways than one.

At first he had been pleasantly surprised because his new partner had the face of an angel and the body of a Greek goddess. Assets she was trying to downplay by wearing large framed glasses, casual attire, and her long glorious thick blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had no idea why.

The pleasant surprise had lasted until he made a mild pass at her. Nothing serious, at least he hadn't thought so. The reporter, however, had taken it very serious indeed. Her big, dark blue eyes had gotten positively glacial, and her body language relayed a very clear message.

Knock it off or I will! And if you don't think I can just try me.

Actually Scott believed that she could and backed off immediately. It hadn't gone unnoticed by their employer, Leo Dante, who had then proceeded to make things even more awkward by making a joke.

What else could you expect? Jamie Moriarty and Scott Watson. There was bound to be tension.

At first Scott had thought he was kidding, until he saw his new partner's expression. Horror like that could not be manufactured.

And no wonder, Sherlock Holmes would have a fit.

Back to the present, they had arrived at their first assignment location, and were now on a professional only status. Which meant the return of the great ice age, minus the glaciers. They looked up at the large house perched atop a hill overlooking a small sleepy town. It was unfortunate, but they'd been told they'd have to park their vehicle, an older model Jeep, at the bottom of that hill. This meant they'd have to climb the steep incline to get to the house itself. With their bags and their equipment.

They were both in good shape, and thankfully had packed light, but they were still going to have to make more than one trip. Not the way either of them had wanted to start their day.

The hike aside, Scott approved of The House. It at least had the appropriate sinister appearance on its exterior that every haunted house worth its salt needed.

"So that's our haunted house? At least it looks the part this time. Once Leo sent us out to a so-called haunted house and it was a ranch style. A ranch style? What was I supposed to do with that?"

Jamie gave him a searching look, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. Apparently he was.

"I'm glad you're pleased, but I'm not sure how easy our job is going to be. According to the information we were given the house is half torn up from renovations. Besides that, although it isn't a ranch it's a . . . unique design."

The cameraman looked at the house again and had to admit Jamie was right. It was an oddly designed house. A horizontal rectangle with two connecting vertical rectangles and three chimneys?

Still, it beat the ranch style any day of the week.

"You're going to be just great at this job," he joked. "Let me give you some advice, Jamie. Practical and logical thinking won't do for this gig, you'll just drive yourself crazy. Trust me, just go with whatever is thrown at you, and plenty will get thrown at you. Still, I admit it's crazy architecture, and what's that other building off to the side? Now that looks out of place."

"Out of place? How?"

"It looks like a normal house."

In what appeared to be a subtle thawing, Jamie smiled a smile that momentarily dazzled Scott. He recovered quickly, sort of, but decided for the sake of their working relationship he would need to get used to that smile.

Or Jamie really would knock his block off.

Completely unaware of the internal havoc she had just caused her cameraman, Jamie consulted her notes. After flipping a page or two, she offered, "It must be the caretaker's house."

"Caretaker? What do they need a caretaker for? Don't the owners live there?"

Again Jamie looked through her notebook before she answered the question.

"They do now."

"Now?"

"The owners are new, sisters named Verity and Felicity Loren. They've just moved in after inheriting the house from their grandfather, Peter Loren."

"What did they do to the old guy to deserve that?" Scott asked sarcastically.

Jamie glanced back at the house, and gave a small shudder, causing Scott to laugh. She darted a look at him, her big blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

This flash of humor made her even more attractive. So much so that Scott was now constantly reminding himself that he actually preferred red-heads, or even brunettes. Blonds, especially this blond, were kryptonite to him.

Oblivious to his inner struggle, Jamie continued to relay the facts.

"As to why a caretaker was needed, it seems that Peter was seriously ill toward the end of his life. He was constantly in and out of the hospital and extended care facilities, so an old family friend looked after the place for him. That's the caretaker."

"So are the sisters going to live there now?"

Jamie frowned slightly over the notes.

"There's no definite answer on that question. But all agreed that a massive remodel, they're calling it a restoration, was in order."

Scott leaned back in his seat and sighed, "Meaning it's a mess in there, and that you were right. That's going to make our job a whole lot more difficult. I wouldn't mind the mess so much, it does make for great atmosphere, but it's where we're staying. What was Leo thinking? I mean, he always keeps an eye on the bottom line, but this is ridiculous. Also, it's not the best way to get the premiere of The Eerie Adventures of Moriarty and Watson off to the best start."

His partner, not for the first time, showed some uncertainty at the name of the show.

"Really?"

Scott laughed, which was an answer in itself.

"Blame Leo. It was almost as bad when Charles . . ."

Jamie realized that he'd mentioned that name before, so she asked, "Charles? Who's that?"

"Charles Carlton, he's the guy you're replacing. Leo must have forgotten to tell you."

"Replaced? He wasn't fired was he?"

Scott was curious at the alarm in her voice. Why it did matter why her replacement had left? Still those big, worried blue eyes touched his heart, yes he had one, so he was glad he could reassure her on that point.

"Don't worry about that, Jamie. Charles has gone off into the sunset to a well-deserved retirement. He saved his pennies, met his contractual obligations, and is now golfing in Florida as we speak. Charles is a golfing fanatic."

Jamie was visibly relieved.

"Good. I'd hate to have replaced someone who was fired."

"Personal experience?"

She then gave him a long look. It was a look that roused Scott's curiosity because she seemed to be debating whether he was being sincere or not with his question.

Truthfully he was.

After a few seconds she seemed to come to that conclusion herself. She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes like she was facing a firing squad before she answered.

"Yes, I was fired from SPN."

That station acronym made everything clear to Scott.

"Starlight Principality Network? The Christian station? Wait. _You're Jamie Moore_?"

## Chapter 3

Jamie, still not looking at him, was silent for several seconds before she at last gave a weary confirmation.

"Yes, Jamie Moore is . . . was my professional name."

"So Jamie Moriarty is your real name?"

Scott knew that sounded insulting, but he had half expected her to admit, sometime, that it wasn't the name she had been given by her parents. But if she was really _that_ Jamie Moore, he doubted she would choose the name of the arch-nemesis of Sherlock Holmes to try to get her career back on track.

Although if that was her intention, she had chosen the _wrong_ station.

As it turned out, his question didn't make Jamie mad, just annoyed, and not just at him.

"Yes, it's my real name. Why do you think I used a different one in the first place? But with the last name of Moriarty, my parents, who I forgave long ago, couldn't resist the temptation. Anyway, after what's been going on in my life recently I figured, what was the point? So I just decided to use my real name again. Of course, that was before I knew I was going to be teamed with a cameraman with the last name of Watson!"

"That's not my fault," Scott pointed out.

"I know that, but it just . . . it just _stinks_."

At that dispirited admission, Scott very badly wanted to hear her side of the story. Supposing she had any interest in telling it. If she didn't, he couldn't blame her, because he wasn't that chatty about his own past employment history.

"So you're Jamie Moore, the Christian reporter involved in the . . ."

She held up her hand pleadingly.

"Please, don't say it. I really have come to despise that term."

"Okay," Scott agreed, "The one who was accused of trying to get ahead in her career by cozying up to a married TV executive? Is that any better?"

Jamie gave him a sidelong look, and then sighed deeply before she answered, "No, I guess not."

"Well, that explains it," Scott stated apparently out-of-the-blue.

"Explains what?" she asked in confusion.

"The disguise, the glasses, jeans and all."

Jamie appreciated the light tone that he was taking. She had been concerned how he'd react when he found about her recent past. Especially as he hadn't made the best first impression. She now considered the notion that he might improve upon acquaintance.

If only his names wasn't Watson. They'd never live it down.

"My disguise, as you call it, was our boss's idea. He thought it would make me look less decorative and more authoritative."

"At the risk of sounding sexist, you've got an uphill battle on that front."

Actually this remark didn't bother Jamie as she recognized he wasn't being sexist, merely pointing out the obvious. She was under no illusions in regards to her looks. It was true that there were advantages to being good looking, but there was also a downside which she usually did her best to ignore. A method that recent events had made somewhat difficult.

"Thank you, I think. Truth be told, I was relieved that he didn't want me to wear plunging necklines and sequins. That kind of makeover I do not need right now."

Scott thought about making a wolfish remark, but something stopped him.

He wasn't sure how it had happened, seeing as he barely knew her, but somehow his attitude toward Jamie was undergoing its own renovation. Beautiful she was, especially with that killer smile and those expressive eyes. However, instead of eliciting lustful fantasies she was now making him feel downright protective.

Maybe it was because she was besieged from all sides. Especially since the sensational media coverage had gotten the general public into a mob mentality in condemning her. She hadn't been run out of town on a rail but . . . wait, considering how much she'd be traveling on this job, maybe she had.

Which could also explain why he was feeling so sympathetic. Fellow feeling. Not that he felt like bringing that subject up.

"For my part, I wouldn't mind that so much," Scott said in an effort to lighten the mood, which strangely enough worked. "And neither would the majority of our few male viewers. However, since you obviously would, do yourself a favor and don't give Leo any ideas. NLBN's ratings might be microscopic, but our boss will stop at almost nothing to squeeze every fraction of a percentage point he can out of them. So was it true? I mean did you really have an affair with a married executive to advance your career?"

Jamie looked astonished and not at all offended.

"Do you know you're the first person to ask me that without the intention of putting it into print or broadcasting it? Most people just seem to assume that I'm a dumb blond bimbo involved in a modern day casting couch. Except my family. They believe me."

For his part, Scott thought it was nice that someone on this team had good family relations, and it wasn't him.

But he didn't want to bring that up either, so he didn't.

"You don't strike me as being dumb or the type to cut corners. Look Jamie, if you don't want to answer, you don't have to. It's your business one way or the other. But I thought we'd deal with the elephant in the room and get on with it."

Jamie quickly decided that he was right. It was obvious he already knew the popular version. What could the truth hurt?

"Okay, here it is. Now you can believe me or not, but it wasn't true. If Michael Webbings was having an affair, it wasn't with me. I barely knew the man, and only saw him a handful of times that I can recall."

Scott instantly believed her. Although he thought that her proviso was a little odd.

"If he was having an affair? I thought it was a forgone conclusion. The man confessed to it, didn't he?"

Jamie made a gesture with her hands that indicated she had no idea how that had happened.

"Yes, he did. Which is what makes the whole situation so bizarre. No one, and I mean no one, at the station had any inkling that anything was going on regarding his lack of marital fidelity. Because in spite of being married, from what I heard before this all happened he practically lived at the station. So when did he have time? Of course, I could just be asking these questions because he accused me of being involved."

"Maybe," Scott acknowledged. "Or maybe your journalistic instincts are kicking in. I mean if he wasn't fooling around, what was he doing? Makes you wonder what could be worse than cheating on your spouse, especially in a Christian outfit."

When put that way, Jamie realized, it was strange. Not that it helped her cause, which she felt obliged to point out.

"That's a very good point Scott, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do about it now. No one would listen to me at the time, let alone after the fact. Especially when you consider that I've a vested interest in the outcome."

Scott nodded his head as he silently agreed with her. After all, who would know better than him? Although there was one huge difference.

Jamie had been an innocent victim, while he'd been a fool.

"I get you Jamie, but file it away for future reference. Time tends to adjust perspectives, eventually."

"Eventually can be a very long time," she pointed out sadly.

Scott gave her a sympathetic look, but then was struck by another thought.

"You know, there's one thing that I did wonder about. Why were you fired and Mr. Married Accuser kept his job? Don't get me wrong, I believe you when you say it wasn't true, but let's say that something had been going on between the two of you. That would mean he wasn't exactly an innocent bystander. In fact, according to his own confession, self-serving as it was, he was the one who cheated. What was the logic of the powers that be on that decision?"

Jamie crossed her arms and shook her head, answering, "Their logic was of the twisted sort. In their minds, by confessing, Michael repented. I, on the other hand, by refusing to admit to something that I hadn't done, was still lost in sin. Consequently, my former employers took the position that I couldn't be forgiven for something I wouldn't confess to, so they were forced to dismiss me. The Pharisees could have taken lessons from these guys."

Having only a vague remembrance of who the Pharisees were Scott did not understand the analogy. Instead, he simply expressed his opinion.

"That does stink."

"No kidding," Jamie agreed. "And it was just one more trial in a long line that's been happening in my life lately. On the bright side, I was able to get another job."

Scott admired her optimism in the face of adversity, but felt the need to point out an inconvenient truth.

"Jamie, you do realize that our station, Noble Lion Broadcasting Network, don't ask, is something of a career set back, right? A severe one, and you'll most likely not recover from it professionally. Take my word for it."

Jamie wondered about the particulars of that statement, but she returned the sentiment he'd given her earlier. It was his business to share or not as he pleased.

"I'm not disagreeing with you Scott, nor am I deluding myself. But a job is a job, and I need to eat."

Scott appreciated her practical approach and commented, "Still, I wouldn't have thought this kind of show would have matched up with Christian principles and journalistic integrity. We like to consider ourselves a maverick lot at NLBN, but in all honesty, we tend to stretch the truth a bit. In fact, more than a bit. It makes for better television."

"In hindsight, you could make that same argument about my old station. NLBN, however, is at least honest about it. You . . ."

"You mean we, right?" Scott teased.

Jamie gave a laugh and agreed. "Okay, we may speculate, exaggerate, and make edits that leave out information a freight train could drive through, but it's made quite clear that's exactly what's being done. So as long as I'm not expected to lie . . ."

"You won't. Exaggerating, good. Lying, bad."

"Then we shouldn't have a problem."

Scott, however, still had some doubts.

"Jamie, not that I doubt your competence, but are you going to be able to take the paranormal seriously?"

"No."

"What I mean is that I know that you Christian types aren't . . . wait. No?"

She shook her head and repeated, "No."

Scott looked astounded at that bit of information, so Jamie decided a fuller explanation was in order.

"I don't take ghosts, haunted houses, ghouls or other things that go bump in night seriously. Which is why I have to admit that I was more than a little surprised when I found out the show to which I'd been assigned. However, when I asked Mr. Dante about it, he explained that he wanted to take the program in a new direction."

Scott was intrigued, and just a little nervous. His boss had that effect on him when he got these brilliant ideas. They usually paid off, but every so often . . .

"Really? What's he want?"

Now it was Jamie who was astounded.

"Didn't he tell you?"

Scott waved a dismissive hand with a nonchalance that he really wished he actually felt. But he didn't want to scare Jamie. Not yet.

"Don't worry about it. Leo Dante is always making what he calls 'improvements' to the format. I'm used to it. So what diabolical changes does our esteemed employer have in mind for us?"

"He wants me to come off as a skeptic rather than a true believer."

Scott almost sighed in relief. It wasn't one of those times. In fact, it was a good idea and could work, but only if Jamie could pull it off without being condescending. The question was could she do it?

"That will be a change. Charles's angle was to try to prove rather than investigate. Not that we were ever able to do that because this stuff is mostly a matter of faith. Facts are harder to come by."

"So my predecessor believed in the paranormal?"

"Charles? No. He was just very good at acting like he did."

"Then it's just as well that Mr. Dante wants a change," Jamie informed him. "Because, in spite of recent accusations, I'm a lousy actress."

"Why do I believe that? Okay, now that we've your lurid past out of the way, let's discuss how we're going to make this new format work. The House is supposed to be haunted so . . . I wonder why it doesn't have a name like houses in England? It's big enough."

Jamie was looking up at the house again as she answered, "Many of those houses were built before house numbering was introduced in the mid-19th century."

Scott gave her a double-take at the way she said that. Not sarcastically, but absently, as if everyone knew. Maybe the rest of the world did know, although he highly doubted it, but he remained unenlightened and was not ashamed to admit as much as he pressed, "What?"

She looked at him in confusion asking, "I'm sorry, what?"

Scott couldn't help it, he smiled. How could someone answer a question, and then lose their train of thought on the conversation a few seconds later? It was endearing. Weird, but endearing.

But back to ugly houses with no names.

"You said houses in England have names because houses weren't numbered when they were built. What does that have to do with this house not having a name? "

Jamie gave a shrug.

"Nothing I guess, but why does it need a name?"

"Because it's supposed to be haunted. My philosophy is that if you're going to accuse a house of being haunted it shouldn't only look, remember that ranch house, but be named for the part."

Jamie narrowed her eyes and asked, "You just made that up didn't you?"

"Yes."

Jamie couldn't help it, she laughed at his honesty, but stopped as she glanced at the house again and noted, "Oh look, I think our welcoming committee has arrived."

## Chapter 4

The NLBN team quickly exited their vehicle to meet the two women who were walking down the hill. Jamie and Scott quickly came to the conclusion they must be the new owners of the house, the Loren sisters.

They were both middle-aged women, but there any commonalities ended. One was wearing a colorful, long caftan, a lot of costume jewelry, and a turban, of all things. Her sister had frizzy, dark blond hair, thick glasses, and wore casual clothing.

"Hello, hello, hello," the colorfully dressed woman called out. "I'm Verity Loren, and this is my sister Felicity . . ."

"Call me Lissy. Our names are so similar people get confused. Poor planning on our parents' part," the other Loren sister said in a cold monotone.

Jamie and Scott exchanged glances. Neither were sure if there was a welcome in there or not.

Verity, however, more than made up for her sister's lack of enthusiasm.

"It's so good that you have arrived. Isn't it Lissy?"

"Yes, so delightful."

It was then that Lissy suddenly seemed to notice Jamie. She pulled out an index card from her jeans pocket and pulled her glasses down her nose to read over them, asking, "Verity, weren't there supposed to be two men?"

She lifted her head and her eyes bored into Jamie suspiciously. Fortunately her sister seemed willing to take the inconsistency in stride.

"That was what I understood. When is Charles . . . I mean Mr. Carlton arriving?" the turbaned lady asked Jamie excitedly. "I just know he will be fascinated by our dear George."

Scott had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. _Oh great,_ he thought, _a fan and a non-fan. This was going to be a lovely shoot._ He shot Jamie a glance wondering if she'd caught on. It was a surprise to see her staring right back at the sisters. He just couldn't tell which one of them had her attention.

Maybe she was blinded by Verity's colorful outfit.

Still, that steady look made him wonder if she might not have noticed something he hadn't.

He'd worked with reporters in the past who had the instincts for smelling out a good story. Charles hadn't been one of them. However, if Jamie Moriarty possessed that particular talent this job just got a heck of a lot more interesting.

Putting that thought away for future reference, he responded to Verity's question.

"Didn't our producer call and let you know that we've had a change in our format?"

"Oh, you mean that Charles Carlton is no longer the host of the program?"

Verity Loren sounded so disappointed that Jamie immediately felt guilty. Even though it wasn't her fault that her predecessor preferred golfing over television.

"Mr. Carlton retired recently. I'm his replacement, Jamie Moriarty."

Fortunately, neither the name nor her face elicited any noticeable recognition from either of the women in front of her. Jamie could only hope it stayed that way until she and Scott were long gone.

"That's disappointing."

"Verity, I'm sure you'll find the replacement more than competent. I'm sure she has . . . talent."

At the not-so-subtle insult, Lissy Loren once again glared over her glasses at Jamie.

Scott also glanced at his reporter, hoping the woman's negative attitude wasn't upsetting Jamie. However, once again he found her to be looking . . . well, he wasn't quite sure how she was looking. But something appeared to be bothering her other than Lissy Loren's backhanded personal insults.

"I suppose," Verity sighed. "Still, the important thing is to help our poor George move on to his eternal rest."

Her sister, unlike Scott, didn't even bother to hold back her own eye roll. However, in an apparent effort to stop herself from saying something she shouldn't to her sister, she concentrated on their guests instead.

"The two of you can go ahead and unload your things. Our caretaker will be along shortly to help you and show you to your rooms. Just don't expect a warm greeting from him. It's not his style at the best of times, and you don't qualify for the best of times."

Jamie seemed to have come out of her contemplations and responded, "That's unfortunate."

"Oh don't take it personally. It's just that he's devoted to this place, and is afraid we're going to sell it. Which we will if I have anything to say about it. Also, he doesn't care for media people. Anyway, we'll make you as comfortable as we can, but the truth is that the whole house is turned upside down right now."

Verity leaned forward and said humorously, "What Lissy means is that it's in a terrible mess. You see, our grandfather liked the house as it was so he never did any updates. Which was his right, but now we have to deal with it, and it's caused some difficulties."

"That's an understatement. Whether we sell it or not, the whole house needs a full renovation, or restoration as the contractor calls it. We do have one wing that's in pretty good shape, which is where everyone who lives here is staying right now. Except for Matthew who's currently residing in the caretaker's house. Lucky man."

As her sister said this, Verity closed her eyes, crossed her hands over her chest and took a deep breath. She gave the impression of trying to commune with . . . something.

"Such disturbances are not good for the spirits. Poor George has been quite annoyed lately."

Her sister gave an impatient sigh.

"Verity, how many times do I have to tell you that there are no ghosts? Poor George or otherwise."

Verity directed her next comment to Scott.

"Lissy seems to think that I'm imagining things."

"If the turban fits . . ."

"Lissy, dear, you need to open up your mind to possibilities . . ." the other woman responded as they walked towards the house leaving their guests unattended.

To Jamie and Scott they made an odd couple, Verity in her colorful garb and Lissy's plain jeans and cotton shirt.

Scott was the first to comment on their hosts.

"They make quite a pair, don't they? So, what're your first impressions of our sisters?"

"I don't like to make snap judgments."

Jamie's objection was brief, but Scott quickly picked up on the fact that she did have an opinion. He wanted to know what it was.

"Fair enough, how about snap impressions? Do you do those?"

Realizing he was not going to let it go, Jamie sighed and gave the best answer that she could with the limited facts at hand.

"Lissy seems okay I guess, although not very friendly, but maybe she doesn't like the press."

"Maybe, but I think she's had a lot to put up with. I've run across people like Verity Loren on other shoots. They're all nice enough, but they take bits and pieces of various belief systems, roll it up together, no matter how incompatible, and make up a theology. I bet it's stressful on the day to day."

His partner looked at him and said approvingly, "That's very perceptive of you Scott."

"Thanks. I did feel a feel a little sorry for Verity. The poor thing was obviously disappointed to see you and not Charles. She probably thought he'd be a kindred soul, she wouldn't be the first."

Jamie crossed her arms and nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm sure you're right."

As she seemed to be lost in thought again, Scott decided that enough was enough.

"Okay, Professor, what's going on?"

"Don't call me that!"

Scott was unperturbed by her outrage.

"You've been getting this . . . look ever since we met the sisters. What is it? You can tell me."

Jamie turned to study the two sisters who were still climbing the hill. After a few seconds she returned her attention to Scott and attempted an explanation. Not that it helped.

"I don't know if I can."

"Why not?"

His partner closed her eyes and appeared to be trying to think of a way to be clearer. It didn't work.

"Something is off."

Scott was puzzled. This was a ghost story location, what could possibly be on?

"Off? What do you mean off?"

"I don't want to say. I could be wrong."

Scott finally got it, she didn't want to slander anyone because of her own recent experience. He understood, but he didn't like being left in the dark either.

"Duly noted. Tell me."

She looked at him, opened her mouth, and closed it. Finally she said, "Verity Loren worries me."

"Worries you? Why, Professor?"

Her answer to that question made her sound like an oracle of doom.

"Long on imagination, lousy judge of character . . . oh, I think the caretaker is coming. We'd better start unloading, and don't call me Professor. You're not the first one to think of it, and it's really annoying."

Jamie rushed back to the Jeep to escape what had become a much more in depth conversation than she was ready for right now.

For his part, Scott had to wonder about that statement of hers.

Long on imagination, lousy judge of character.

The imagination part he got, but whose character?

## Chapter 5

The cameraman had no time to pursue this line of inquiry as a gruff voice asked, "You the TV people? I'm Matthew Jones, the caretaker, you ready to go up to the house?"

The voice belonged to an elderly man dressed in a flannel shirt and denim overalls. Scott was not surprised as this story seemed to be shaping up to be like a classic bad horror flick. A haunted house, yin and yang sisters, and a cryptic caretaker. Central casting couldn't have pulled the elements together any better.

"Yeah, we're from NLBN," he answered.

"Never heard of it."

Scott was unfazed by the old man's rejoinder as the majority of the population probably hadn't either.

"That's not surprising. Our critics say that we're barely above cable access."

Scott was joking, but Matthew didn't smile, and his response was literal.

"That's not so bad. You can get a lot of useful information off cable access. Sorry, I can't do too much heavy lifting, but if you want I can take some of your lighter bags."

"Thank you," Jamie said handing him both her and Scott's overnight bags.

The old man gave her a long look, but took the luggage without complaint.

"Follow me and we'll get you settled. I'm sure the owners warned you that the place is a mess. If so, they weren't telling you the half. But there are some rooms in fairly decent shape. Just as long as you don't expect a three star hotel, you should be comfortable enough."

"That's okay," Scott assured him. "Three star accommodations aren't in our job descriptions."

With a grunt that could have been a chuckle, it was hard to tell, Matthew turned and started toward the house. This caused Scott and Jamie to quickly pick up what they could and rush after him.

"We'll probably have to make two trips," Scott called out.

"I figured that, but I can only make one. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful, but this hill kills my old legs so I have to pace myself. I'll show the way, and then wait for you on the porch while you finish."

The NLBN team exchanged glances, not exactly thrilled by this necessity. However, they also understood how hard multiple trips would be on a man of Matthew's age. They were a lot younger and not exactly looking forward to it themselves.

As they trudged up the steep hill towards the house, they noticed a very handsome young man moving paint cans. He was tall, had curly dark hair and fit very well into his tight jeans and T-shirt.

In short, he was gorgeous.

Once they were past him and out of earshot, Jamie asked, "Who's that?"

The admiration was clear in her voice.

"You're not his type."

Jamie actually blushed at Matthew's dry observation.

Due to her embarrassment, Jamie's rebuttal was a little on the defensive side.

"What's that mean?"

"You're not old enough, rich enough and you're prettier than he is," the old man explained with what seemed to be genuine amusement. "But to answer your question, his name is Shane Conrad. Verity hired him as a handyman."

That sounded odd to both Scott and Jamie, but it was Scott who asked, "You have a full construction crew up here and she hired a handyman? Why? What's he do?"

"Now, that's a good question. One I don't know the answer to because Verity didn't run it by me."

There seemed to be nothing more to say on that front, so Scott switched directions asking, "Matthew, why isn't he helping us? He looks like he could have made more than one trip up and down this hill, and it would have made this job a lot faster."

They'd finally arrived at the front porch of the house, and everyone set down their loads. It was only then that Scott's question was addressed.

"Verity, she never mentioned that possibility, and Shane didn't rush to volunteer. He probably figured it would have messed up his hair. Never saw a man to be so obsessed with his hair. Not that I've that much to bother with these days."

After running a hand over his sparse white hair, Matthew took a seat on the front steps, making it clear that he was done talking. So Scott and Jamie headed back down the hill.

Scott observed wryly, "You know, I think Lissy was right. I don't think Matthew the caretaker is exactly happy to see us here."

"You think?"

"Funny. You're just going to be a joy to work with aren't you, Professor?"

"Don't call me that. Have you considered that I may be the reason that Matthew is so monosyllabic?"

"And you don't want me calling you Professor?"

"Sorry."

Scott gave a dismissive gesture and assured her, "It's okay. What's monosyllabic mean?"

"Short, brief and uncommunicative."

Scott now understood her original point.

"You think Matthew recognized you?"

Jamie nodded and she was concerned. Career set back, ridiculous show concept, slightly above cable access station, being called Professor against her will, none of that mattered. The reality was that she needed this job. If she had trouble on her first assignment there could be a backlash, which wouldn't make a good impression with her new boss.

Scott tried to be comforting, but it came out oddly.

"Don't stress about it, Professor. Unless I'm reading old Matthew wrong, he'll not be shy about letting you know how he feels about having a scarlet woman about the place. So it will be over with fast."

Jamie looked at him, realized he was probably not going to stop with that stupid nickname, and tried to resign herself to it. After all, it was hardly the worst thing she had been called lately.

"Thank you. That makes me feel so much better."

Scott, not yet recognizing the Jamie Moriarty style of sarcasm continued blithely, "Look at it this way, Professor, along with Verity's ghost stories, and Lissy's unhospitable attitude, we get to deal with Victorian values. It should be fun."

Jamie then decided that two could play at this game.

"Watson, you and I are going to need to have a discussion about your concept of fun."

To her mild irritation, he didn't even appear to notice her little jab as he merely handed her some equipment.

It turned out that Scott was right. Matthew was not the type to beat around the bush, and Jamie did hear about it in short order.

Just not in the way either one of them had expected.

## Chapter 6

One thing that everyone hadn't been exaggerating about was the condition of the interior of the house. It was a mess, being filled with construction people, equipment, supplies and a lot of noise.

Scott thought that Lissy had had it right. Matthew was lucky to be living in a separate house.

They managed to get themselves through the maze of confusion, up the stairs, and into a relatively quiet part of the house. It looked in need of an update as well, but Matthew said the crew would finish downstairs before moving up to the second floor.

When? No one seemed to know that.

After showing Scott to his room, where he seemed to just throw his stuff in and then hurry back down the stairs, calling back, "Just going to check out the exterior. Be right back, Professor."

Matthew gave a slight pause before he led Jamie to another room farther down the hall. He opened the door and placed her bag inside. However, he did not enter the room, a testament to his sense of propriety.

As he turned to look at her, Jamie braced herself for what she knew was coming.

Fortunately she was wrong.

"Ms. Moore, I owe you an apology."

Jamie was relieved, but confused.

"Why are you apologizing? I just got here."

"I'm afraid I judged you rather harshly."

Jamie supposed she could pretend she didn't know what he was talking about, but what was the point?

"So you do recognize me. Your employers didn't, or at least they didn't say anything if they did."

"More than likely, as neither are much for keeping up on current events. Verity has her head in the clouds, and Lissy is only interested in her own affairs. Fair warning, she may know more than she's letting on, but you suit her purposes for now."

"Her purposes? What purposes?"

"Keeping her sister happy."

The statement itself did not bother Jamie. After all, what was wrong with Lissy wanting her sister to be happy? Still, the way the old man said it was odd. As a reporter, she couldn't let it go.

"What's wrong with that?"

"An interesting question, and not an easy one to answer. All I know is that it's not the way things usually work between them."

Jamie wondered why the man was making her work so hard. He obviously knew a lot, and he wanted her to know it. So why not just tell her?

Then again, they'd just met, and in spite of his non-judgmental demeanor regarding her past, maybe he didn't trust her yet. That was her job, earning his trust. She could hope that whatever it was he was trying to tell her, without really telling her, was worth all the effort.

"How do things usually work between them? Don't they get along?"

"They have their problems," he answered.

"That doesn't sound that unusual. All families have problems."

Matthew shrugged as if he agreed with her, but if that were the case why bring the subject up? More had to be coming.

She was right.

"Did you know that Verity and Lissy have the same birthday?"

"Really?" Jamie asked, wondering what that had to do with anything. "I didn't realize that they were twins."

Matthew shook his head and explained, "They aren't. Verity is two years older than Lissy. They just happen to be born on the same date. It led to some interesting birthday parties."

"I suppose it would."

The caretaker didn't comment right away at that point and Jamie guessed that he was considering his next move. So she waited until he was ready, which wasn't very long.

"Do you have a sister, Jamie?"

Jamie was surprised by the question, but she answered willingly enough, "Yes I do, a younger one."

"Do you, get along with her?"

"Of course."

"Always been that way?"

Jamie opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative, but stopped as she finally understood his point.

She and her sister hadn't always gotten along. They'd fought as children, barely spoken during their teenage years, and argued as adults. Nothing, however, that had caused any lasting damage. Unless she was misunderstanding the caretaker properly, that hadn't been the case with the Loren family.

That was important for some reason.

"We had our moments, but we got over them."

"There you go."

Jamie blinked several times at Matthew's final statement. She tilted her head, trying to understand, but when that proved fruitless, she asked, "Go where?"

"They never got over it."

Before Jamie could pursue the topic further, Matthew changed the subject back to his original statement to her.

Jamie let him do so as she recognized he wouldn't answer any of her questions directly until he was ready. So why frustrate herself at this early stage?

"As to why I owe you an apology, I confess that I rushed to judgment when your situation first hit the news. Listened to what people were saying and forgot there are two sides to every story. It took some time, but the Holy Spirit began to remind me of every transgression throughout my life. Very uncomfortable. So I repented, and started to pray . . ."

"You're a Christian?"

Matthew smiled at the question and answered, "Don't you recognize a fellow believer, Ms. Moore?"

Jamie gave an ironic smile when he said that.

"There are some who would beg to differ on that point."

"Folks acting just like I did, shoot from the hip and are too quick to condemn. Give it time, Ms. Moore. They'll figure out that things just don't add up to . . . unless it was true. Was it?"

_That's two people who actually asked,_ Jamie thought, and _both on the same day._ _Coincidence was indeed an unusual thing._

"No, it wasn't."

"So why did he finger you? Did you two have a falling out of some sort?"

Jamie shook her head.

"Believe it or not, I didn't know the man very well."

"Really? Then that makes the question even more important."

"I suppose it is," Jamie agreed. "Common sense would lead anyone to assume that he had some sort of a grudge against me."

"Which was?"

"I don't know."

"What?"

Jamie didn't blame the man for the disbelief in that word. If it hadn't happened to her, she wouldn't believe it either.

"I don't know. We rarely saw each other, even at the station. You see, my accuser was upper management while I was a lowly cub reporter. In that hierarchy, like east and west, never the twain shall meet."

Matthew scratched his chin, thought for a few seconds before commenting, "There had to be a reason. Any gossip about him?"

"Not a word. As far as I know, no one at the station had any idea the man was being unfaithful to his wife. Which if considered, makes the scandal itself very strange."

"So everyone just took his word for everything? That makes no sense."

"I agree with you Matthew, but that's just what happened. If anyone had bothered to look into his accusations, I'm confident that I would have been able to challenge them and prove them false. However, no one was willing to listen to me."

Matthew looked at her hard as if he could somehow pull a logical explanation from her brain. Jamie only wished that were possible.

"So, you've no idea why this man decided to drag you into his scandal?" the old man asked perceptively. "Nothing you might have known, or led him to believe you might have known? Whether you meant to or not?"

Jamie quickly began to realize that this was one of the longest discussions she had had on the subject with anyone, outside of her family. Now in the course of a day, two men she barely knew were willing not only to listen, but also had taken her word on what had really happened.

Perhaps God did have a plan, even if she wasn't particularly enjoying it.

"Maybe, but I don't know what it could have been. The longest interaction I had with him was at the only SPN Christmas party I ever attended. Even then I didn't exchange so much as a word with him."

"What happened? I mean exactly."

Jamie took a moment as if trying to recall the incident before she continued, "That was almost a year ago, but the best I can remember was that his wife was bragging about all of the expensive presents he'd given her over the years. Which was not the best topic of conversation for those present. SPN had just made some major cutbacks in staff and we were all afraid we were going to be next . . ."

She stopped and corrected herself, "Never mind about that. Anyway, she was raving about how he always managed to surprise her by misleading her. Unwisely, I was annoyed enough to make a smart remark. Everyone laughed, except him and his wife. I remember that because I thought I'd hear about it later. I didn't, but I never felt comfortable around him after that either."

Matthew subsequently asked a very critical question.

"What was the smart remark?"

Again, she had to think to about that. What had she said? Then she remembered.

"Well, I was commenting on his wife's statement about how he always fooled her. I said that she might want to be careful as he was obviously such a good . . ."

As Jamie stopped, before she murmured more to herself than the man before her, "No, it couldn't be that."

"What?"

Yet again, it took her a minute to answer, because, although it was the only thing that made sense, it made no sense at all.

Which was ridiculous, but what else was new?

"I said he was obviously such a good liar. He couldn't possibly have taken me seriously."

Matthew was nodding sagely as if he saw the whole situation clearly. If so Jamie really wished he'd tell her, because she still didn't get it.

Unfortunately he couldn't give her any specifics.

"Guilt makes us humans imagine strange things, Jamie. For example, here is a man, pretending to be a good Christian and husband, but in reality his life is a sham. He knows it, more importantly, the God he claims to serve knows it. Maybe you do know something? Or maybe someone else was speaking through you to him?"

Jamie knew exactly what the old caretaker was suggesting and was quick to deny it.

"I don't claim any special gifting from God."

"But it was at that Christmas party that you started to feel uncomfortable around him."

"Good point. Give me a minute, Matthew, I need to think this through."

_Okay,_ she thought, _Michael Webbings, what was it that had bothered me about the man after that party?_

He had never been inappropriate with her, in spite of what he claimed later. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid her, even going so far as turning in the other direction when they met in the same hallway. After that Christmas party anyway. Before that Jamie doubted he even knew she existed.

He was that type of executive.

So whatever it was had to have happened at that party. His wife had been bragging, then she had made her stupid comment, and Michael had been angry . . .

Wait. Not angry.

"He looked scared."

Jamie wasn't aware she had said that out loud until Matthew asked her, "Scared? Like I thought? That you'd figured out his double life?"

She shook her head and answered, "It wasn't that kind of scared."

Now Matthew looked surprised.

"What do you mean, not that kind? There's more than one way to be scared?"

"I'm sure there are quite a few, but what you're talking about is the 'uh-oh, I may be in trouble, how do I get out of it?' type scared. Michael looked like he was about ready to faint from fear."

For the first time Matthew looked doubtful, but he merely said, "You were there, Ms. Moore, so I'll have to take your word for it."

"I guess you will," Jamie agreed philosophically. "By the way, you can call me Jamie. Moore isn't my real last name."

"Really? Then what is it?"

She hesitated, but as the sisters already knew he was bound to find out anyway.

"Moriarty."

The man's face actually broke out in a smile.

"Jamie Moriarty? So that's why the young fella called you Professor. I wondered. Well, it could be worse, his name could be Holmes or Sherlock. It isn't, is it?"

"No, but almost as bad. It's Watson. Scott Watson."

Matthew bit down on his lip and Jamie knew he was trying not to laugh. Finally, he asked, with a distinct choke, "And the name of your show is . . ."

Jamie took a deep breath, rolled her eyes, and admitted, "The Eerie Adventures of Moriarty and Watson."

Once again there was a long pause before Matthew lost the internal battle he had been waging.

He laughed heartily.

## Chapter 7

Elsewhere, after dropping off his stuff and making a hasty exit, Scott thought he'd take the opportunity to look around the place. It never occurred to him to tell Jamie what he was up to because it was what he'd always done.

Once outside, Scott stepped away from the house, trying to determine the best angles for his shots. He'd start today and get the exterior shots down first, he decided. That way if someone got the brilliant idea to paint the outside of the house before he was ready, he'd have captured that gloomy haunted house façade that would be critical to the overall look of the episode.

"Excuse me, are you part of the TV crew?" a male voice asked behind him.

Scott turned around and found himself confronted by the Adonis handyman, Shane. This time the man was carrying a shovel, apparently trying to give the impression that he'd just come from some heavy labor.

If that was his intent, Scott thought, the effect was completely ruined by the clean shovel, and his exceptional personal grooming. He had to stop himself from smiling as he recalled old Matthew's acid comment about the handyman not wanting to mess up his hair by working too hard. Maybe he had a point.

"Yeah. I'm the cameraman, Scott Watson."

"Shane Conrad."

They shook hands briefly.

The handyman continued, "I saw you and your partner arrive. She's a looker, huh? You sir are a lucky man. I wouldn't mind admiring that view daily myself. By the way, I'm sorry I couldn't help earlier when you were bringing up your stuff, but I was working on something else."

Scott supposed he could have made a smart comment at that opening, but he didn't care enough to put out the effort.

"Sure, I understand."

"So what're you doing?" Shane asked, setting down his shovel against the side of the house.

Scott was used to such questions, as they seemed to occur on every shoot. To him television was work, but he knew the media fascinated most people. As a result, he had a set of stock answers that seemed to satisfy their interest without going into too much detail. Until he got tired of talking about it, then he brought out the technical jargon so he could get on with his job.

"Just checking out some possible exteriors to shoot. It helps to get things set up in my head first, especially with our tight schedule."

"That makes sense. You must have an interesting job."

"It has its points, but ultimately, it's a job, just like any other."

"Tell me about it."

Shane gave a heavy sigh when he said that. Scott, taking his cue, asked the follow-up question.

"Are you having problems here? If you don't mind my asking."

"Nah, that's okay. This is just temporary. Verity . . . I mean Ms. Loren, hired me to help keep an eye on things."

Scott frowned and asked, "Keep an eye on things? Isn't that the caretaker's job?"

"Sure, but he's kind of up there in years, and he's so obsessed with the place that he hates to see anyone mess with it. Even though the house is practically falling apart, which made renovations a necessity."

"Set in his ways, huh?"

Scott felt bad that he was throwing Matthew under the bus, so to speak, but the old man hadn't been shy about sharing his own opinion of Shane. So he could only imagine what the handyman would have to say about the caretaker.

He didn't have to imagine for long.

"That's an understatement. You should have seen his reaction when the sisters just said they were thinking about selling the house. The old guy got so mad I thought he was going to have a stroke."

Scott considered that point. Matthew hadn't struck him as the obsessive, or emotional type, but that didn't mean he couldn't have his agenda. He'd have to talk it over with Jamie.

"So what station are you with?" Shane asked.

"NLBN."

Scott anticipated a specific response, and he got it.

Shane looked blank, asking, "NLBN? What's that? Cable access?"

Scott had long ago ceased to try to defend his small network, even though he knew he could make multiple arguments.

Most television stations on cable weren't multimillion-dollar conglomerates.

NLBN might not have the largest market share, but their viewers were loyal and devoted.

And so on and so forth.

But once again, he didn't care enough about Shane's opinion to put out the effort.

"Something like that."

He almost felt the other man's interest draining away. Finally, the handyman turned and started to walk away saying over his shoulder, "Well I've got to get back to work. Good luck with your show."

Quite a few seconds later, Scott called out to him, "Hey, you forgot your shovel."

The cameraman smiled as he noted the consternated look on the handsome handyman's face. He looked as if he half suspected that Scott had deliberately waited before pointing that out to him.

Of course, that's just what he had done. Scott might have given up defending NLBN, but that didn't mean he wouldn't exact a little revenge when he felt it was warranted.

## Chapter 8

Once he had regained control of himself Matthew Jones returned to the recent troubles in Jamie's past.

"One thing I don't understand. Why didn't you make more of a fight of it? Not to criticize, I've never had to deal with such a situation. But you just fading away like you did gave the impression of guilt. Maybe unfairly, but there you have it."

"I know, and I was planning to fight the accusations, but then my mother had a stroke and that was where all my attention went."

Matthew was immediately sympathetic, "Jamie, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you Matthew, but I'm sure you didn't know as it was not public knowledge. The last thing we needed or wanted was the media descending on the hospital. Believe me, I know how far some of my 'colleagues' will go, and a sick woman would be no deterrent."

"Totally understandable. How is your mother now?"

"She's doing much better, but by the time she was making a recovery my accuser had released a public statement and was asking for forgiveness for his 'sin' with me specifically."

Matthew was shocked.

"He used your name?"

"Well he used Jamie Moore's name, one the reasons I've gone back to using my own professionally, in spite of how ridiculous it is."

"So he never faced you? That coward."

She appreciated the support, it was something she hadn't gotten a lot of lately.

"He wasn't the only one. SPN went along with it. Just took his word for everything and wouldn't listen to a thing I had to say. Of course, they were willing to 'forgive' me as well, but only if I agreed to broadcast a similar public confession."

"Now I know that didn't happen," Matthew stated.

"Darn right it never happened," Jamie stated indignantly. "I didn't do what I was being accused of, so that would have been lying. I figured I was finished there anyway, so I wasn't going to give them satisfaction of going along with their hypocritical piety."

"Oh, Jamie that's terrible. You must have thought you were all alone."

It was then that Jamie finally let go of all of the anger she'd been bottling up.

"I was all alone. My mother was ill, people I thought were friends turned their backs on me, and my pastor made it clear that I was not welcome at his church. Everyone, even God had turned against me."

The old man shook his head and observed sagely, "Jamie, I understand your feelings, but your perceptions are off. Those weren't your real friends, the pastor was a hired man and not a shepherd, and the Lord would never turn against you. After all, He's the only one who'd really know all of the facts."

Jamie closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"That's what my mother keeps saying, and I know that both of you're right. But I don't understand why this is happening? Why has my life been turned upside down? I didn't do anything wrong!"

The caretaker let the woman vent, as he could understand her anger. It was never easy to take persecution at any time, but especially when you didn't deserve it.

"Jamie remember, life is hard, but that's our fault, not God's. It will be that way until the Lord returns. If it brings you any comfort, you aren't the only one who has doubts about your previous employer, especially after the way they handled things. It might not have seemed so at the time, but you have a lot more support than you think. Speculation is running rampant on the internet."

The news that she had defenders was a surprise to Jamie, and had the effect of calming her down.

"Really? I didn't know that. However, I've been avoiding any reference to the scandal as much as I could. Still, now that you mention it, they were in an awful big hurry to rush me out the door. They never even bothered to investigate the man's accusations as far as I know. Add to that the fact that my mom never liked that station, and it makes me wonder if I'm better out of a bad situation."

"Why didn't your mother like SPN?"

"She said they were too eager to please everyone, and since that's impossible someone is going to get left out, which never bodes well for believers. Along with the layoffs, and other rumors that things weren't going well for the station, I guess I should have listened to her and found another job."

"Your mother sounds like a very discerning woman."

"Oh she is. That's what makes her so annoying at times."

"Mothers can be that. You said she's recovering?"

"Fortunately, yes. She still has physical issues of course, but she's not paralyzed, and her mind is all there. My sister Tina is staying with her, and I check in as much as I can. That's another thing I like about this job. We do a lot of traveling, but budget restrictions keep me pretty close to home."

The old man gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"That must be a comfort to you, and I think your mother has a point about your old station. From what I've heard there have been some strange goings on there."

"Like what?" Jamie asked.

"Like unexpected cancellations of shows, popular ones, but only those that took a strict Biblical position. I can give you some interesting postings on the internet . . . what's that look for?" Matthew asked at her surprised expression.

"I'm sorry, Matthew, I just didn't expect you to be the internet type."

The old man leaned back a bit, crossing his arms in mock offense.

"Because I'm old? I'll have you know that I have a smart phone and am active on social media."

Jamie held up her hands in a defensive gesture, but she was smiling broadly.

"I'm sorry, but my Mom is younger than you are, at least I think so, and I can't get her near a computer let alone a smart phone."

"Computers aren't for everyone, but remember, old people can learn new stuff and be as good at it. It just takes us a little longer to get there."

"Sorry."

"You should be. Now I know this has all been hard on you Jamie, but have you considered that perhaps the Lord had reasons to rearrange your life? Also that it would be the best thing for you?"

Actually that hadn't occurred to Jamie. She'd been so focused on the negatives, she hadn't taken into consideration there might be some positives to the situation. But then she hadn't exactly asked Him where He was going with this either.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the Lord has a plan for all of us. Perhaps you're going to find out what He has in store for you in the near future."

Jamie couldn't help it, she actually laughed at the very idea.

"At NLBN? Oh, I can't wait to see how that pans out. I have it on good authority that NLBN is a little maverick."

The elderly man wagged a finger at her, stating, "Sarah laughed too, and the Lord kept his word and made her a very old mother. Nothing is impossible for the Lord."

Jamie agreed, but she still couldn't wrap her mind around the idea that NLBN would be an instrument He'd use. Did Matthew even know the kind of programming it offered? Not that there was anything wrong with it per se. It was very entertaining. In theory anyway.

She might have educated him, but Matthew had moved on.

"You know Professor . . ."

"Oh don't you start."

Matthew laughed, but promised nothing as he continued, "I think I can be helpful with your story. Do you feel up to taking a little excursion with me, or are you too tired from the getting here?"

Intrigued she responded, "No, I'm good. But kind of an excursion? And to where?"

"To the town. I think I know some folks who might be able to fill in a few blanks for you."

Thanks to NLBN's less than thorough background checking, they had enough of those. So if Matthew could help with those gaps, she wouldn't say no.

"Okay, let me find Scott . . ."

"Good thinking. You should never just disappear, a lesson he needs to learn after the way he tore out of here. Can you drive that vehicle you came in?"

It was then that Jamie realized that Matthew just wanted her to go, not Scott.

"The Jeep? Yes I can a drive a shift. In fact, I relieved Scott on the way up here. Why?"

"If you don't mind my making a suggestion?"

"You can make one."

"Fair enough. _If_ the two of you agree, I'd recommend he stay here and start filming. Maybe on the outside. Also he could start getting ideas from the sisters. Trust me, Verity will have a million of them."

"Okay, but why?"

"It will keep them occupied."

"That's important?" Jamie asked.

"Yes, if you don't want them to know what you're up to. Trust me. You don't. Not yet."

## Chapter 9

"So, how are you and Jamie getting along?" Leo Dante asked his cameraman over the phone

NLBN's station owner was seated on the balcony outside his office in a high-rise building smoking a cigar. It was the only place he could do so without someone threatening to turn him into the no-smoking Gestapo.

He looked the very picture of a hard-bitten TV news manager being slightly pudgy, with thinning dark hair and a moustache. He even wore rolled up sleeves and suspenders. The fact that he was the owner as well as the station manager of NLBN, allowed him to indulge in his idiosyncrasies.

It was only after you got to know him that you realize he was actually very good at his job.

Scott gave a sigh into the cell phone. It had been about two hours since Jamie and Matthew had taken off, and he was relieved that Leo had called him because, honestly, he was running out of things to do.

"We're getting along. She went to town with a potential contact."

"She did? So what are you doing while I'm paying you?"

"I'm working," Scott defended himself. "I've been filming the exterior and talking with the owners. I got to tell you Leo, this assignment is going to be different."

"Poor you. Traveling around the country with a gorgeous blond . . ."

"Don't let her looks fool you. The Professor . . ."

"The what?" Leo interrupted before he got it. "Oh, Professor Moriarty, I get it. Better watch it or she'll start calling you Watson."

"Not to worry, she already is. The woman does have a sense of humor, it's just really subtle. As I was saying, she might look like a candidate for blond bombshell, but trust me she brings a new level to the definition of prim and proper."

"I suspected as much," Leo stated.

"I'm sure you did, but then she's a born again Christian, big time. There's something . . . I don't know it's hard to explain. It's like someone has put a huge stop sign in front of her, and you dare not cross it."

"Well you had a go at it, before she shot you down. I'm not sure what bothered her more, you coming on to her or that your name was Watson."

The truth of that, and the fact that he was now more than a little ashamed of it, made Scott's response sharper than he meant.

"Look, I'm sorry about making a pass. It _was_ rude on such short acquaintance. Anyway, that's all over and done with. The Professor's a beauty, but she's also a nice, practical girl with a moral streak a mile wide. Somehow lustful fantasies just don't hold up in the face of it."

"I think I could manage," Leo said wolfishly as he blew smoke rings into the air.

Once again, Scott was annoyed, but now for an entirely different reason. He knew Leo wasn't serious, but kidding or not, Jamie Moriarty deserved more respect.

"Careful Leo, remember your wife."

"I'm not serious, besides I'm not afraid of Trisha."

"Really? So if I were to mention your comment in passing . . ."

Leo sat up cried out, "That won't be necessary!"

"I thought you weren't scared of her?"

"I'm not," Leo denied, "but she doesn't like inappropriate humor either. Okay, like you, I'm sorry. You're right, Jamie has had enough to deal with recently, and neither of us need to be adding to it."

This satisfied Scott as he could tell Leo really meant it.

"Good. By the way, how did you get a gorgeous blond with a scandal on her record past your wife? I thought Trisha was extremely vigilant when it came to predatory females. Not that The Professor's one of those, but she could easily be mistaken for one what with her looks and the recent unpleasantness at her last job."

His boss gave a grunt in agreement.

"You're right there, but Trisha is a good Christian girl too you know, and has a good heart. Here's a strange but true for you. Trisha was the one who suggested I hire Jamie in the first place."

That was news to Scott. He didn't think that Trisha had any interest in NLBN. In fact, he knew she didn't. Leo's wife was a wonderful person, but she was more of the tea and committee type.

"Really?"

"I know, go figure. When she found out we needed a replacement for Charles, fast, she suggested I screen test Jamie."

"So she knows about what happened at SPN? The Professor told me she was using a different name."

"I know, and so does my wife, but Trisha's on her side, believe it or not. Says the whole thing stinks more than a loaded skunk in the summer . . ."

Scott suspected a slight misquote, so he asked, "Trisha said that?"

"Words to that effect, only classier. Anyway, after looking into it myself, I've got to agree with her. Something is rotten there, though that's neither here nor there. It's the past, and Jamie has to move on."

"So let me get this straight. You hired Jamie Moriarty because your wife felt sorry for her?"

"That and the camera loves her," Leo explained. "Wait until you see her in action. Look, I may listen to my wife's counsel, but I'm also capable of making a decision without her."

"I know that . . . wait, our missing in action host is back. Talk to you later Leo."

Scott put his cell phone away as Jamie came up the hill and joined him on the porch.

"Where have you been all day?"

His reporter tilted her head slightly and pointed out reasonably, "Two hours isn't all day. Did I miss something? Like the ghost showing up? No, you'd be in a better mood if that were the case. What's wrong?"

Scott looked away from her, fighting against that subtle humor of hers that appealed to him so much. Fighting because he wasn't quite ready to let go of his annoyance.

"You disappear with the caretaker and I'm left here to shoot redundant footage? There's only so much I can do without my on-screen host you know. By the way where's Matthew?"

"He's visiting with one of his friends, who'll bring him back," Jamie explained. "So does shooting redundant footage always make you so grumpy?"

"I'm not grumpy, just bored."

"I'm sorry if I took longer than you thought I should, but most of what I did today should have been handled before we were even dispatched. But NLBN being a little maverick . . ."

Scott gave her a sharp look as he came to a realization and accused, "You've been doing interviews, Professor."

Jamie shook her head emphatically.

"Nothing formal, Watson. Just preliminary stuff, such as getting names and setting up appointments to go back with you. Most of what I was doing was fact checking, and I did find quite a bit of useful information."

Feeling better once he heard her explanation, and curious as to what she'd found, he leaned back on one of the porch pillars and crossed his arms.

"What would that be?"

"For one thing, the stories the sisters tell and what everyone else is saying don't match up."

Somewhat disappointed, Scott rolled his eyes thinking that Jamie had a lot to learn about how this type of show worked.

"Professor . . ."

"I know what you're going to say," she stopped him. "I am aware that inconsistencies in these tall tales are normal, but not where there are provable facts available."

He stood up a little straighter, intrigued.

"Provable facts? Like what?"

"Like I found out quite a bit about George Loren today."

"Such as? And why do we care?"

Jamie gave him a steady look and Scott held up his hands as if to fend off an attack.

"Okay, okay I'm sorry. You're right, facts are important. Tell me what you found out about George."

As she continued to stare him down he added, "Please."

Finally Jamie decided to be beneficent and answer.

"To begin with, he doesn't appear to have been a miser. Frugal and lived within his means yes, but he was also a generous donor to his church and local charities in his lifetime. That stopped once he died and 'poor' Nora took over and spent the money on no one other than herself. The diaries of other citizens at the time indicated she was a real piece of work . . ."

"Diaries? Where did you find any diaries?"

Jamie put her hands on her hips and teased good-naturedly, "It's called the public library. Where they keep actual documentation, including the diaries and journals of real people who were alive and witnessed the events first hand. Ever visited one?"

Now it was Scott's turn to stare at her balefully. Not that it had much effect as she merely smiled that smile of hers again.

Again it took him a minute to recover. Not that Jamie noticed as she continued to regale him with tales of her recent adventures.

"Anyway, from what I read, everybody liked George and Martha, his first wife. Nora, however, appears to have been a gold digger who took advantage of a lonely widower still grieving his recently deceased wife. There was even some speculation that George's death, which occurred less than a year from his second marriage, was extremely suspicious in nature. Unfortunately, no one could prove anything, but more pertinent to our story is the fact that the dates don't match up."

Scott was intrigued as he recognized that this revised piece of history was even more interesting than the original version. But would it play well on television? That was their primary concern after all. Now he just had to convince Jamie.

"What do you mean they don't match up?"

Jamie took out a small notebook from her messenger bag, turned to a specific page, and read.

"George died a year before Nora commissioned an architect to draw up the plans for the house. It was she, not George, who built it, and the old place wasn't torn down. It's now the caretaker's house. You know, the normal one where Matthew is currently staying."

Scott listened to her carefully, but wasn't totally convinced. He'd been on too many of these type of stories to be easily persuaded there might be more to them than suspected.

"Really? But look, I admit that a few . . . okay a lot, of the story facts are skewed. Still, that isn't unusual in our specific line."

Jamie once again gave him that look that he'd noticed earlier, and he wasn't happy to it now because he had feeling that this story was about to get complicated. He didn't like complicated, he liked simple. Simple paid the bills.

"I don't think you understand," she pressed. "It took me very little time to confirm that most of what we've been told isn't only wrong, but it's easy to prove that it's wrong. No one could make a legend of either the Loren family or their house unless that was what they meant to do."

"But our information . . ."

"Is wrong."

_Very likely,_ Scott conceded internally. _Especially since being accurate hadn't been a priority up to now._

"From what I gathered," Jamie continued, "most of the facts provided to us came from one internet website that's been up less than six months. I thought that was strange before we left, and I mentioned it to Mr. Dante. He didn't seem that concerned, so I didn't push it, but thinking back it, I should have."

Scott was now beginning to understand where his partner was going with this, and he had to admit that it was both logical and compelling.

"So you think there's a ghost story because someone wants there to be a ghost story?"

Jamie nodded.

"I used the library's computer and checked for other references, but from what I could tell there weren't any besides the original website."

"This is strange," Scott agreed. "So besides the trip to the library, where did the caretaker come in?"

"He introduced me to a lot of prominent citizens for interviews, and they all verified that this house has never been known as a local haunted house. Just an old house that's a victim of poor design and neglect. Come on Watson, even if it were true, which it isn't, every town has these kinds of stories."

"The Grove," Scott blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Jamie asked, not understanding the reference.

Scott unexpectedly looked uncomfortable. He couldn't believe that he'd actually said that out loud. However, he was quick to recover with an explanation, abridged though it was.

"Nothing important. It was an abandoned grove of fruit trees that had gone wild where I grew up. The kids all called it The Grove. It was supposed to evil, you know what I mean."

He was relieved when Jamie seemed to accept his story without further interrogation.

"There you go. It was probably just some trees that you weren't supposed to go into, and because it was forbidden it was dark and malevolent."

"I don't know about that," Scott muttered, then quickly got back on point. "Back to the situation at hand, why would Verity and Lissy be fooled by a fake ghost story?"

"How would they know one way or the other? According to Matthew, the sisters haven't lived here since they were kids, just visited. If he's telling the truth they may not know it wasn't a real story. But that's assuming that they didn't have a hand in the creation it."

That was one of the things Scott came to like about Jamie, she was the suspicious type. Not paranoid exactly, she just didn't believe everything she was told without something to back it up.

The cameraman nodded his head and agreed, "It would make sense for the sisters to be in on it, but why fool us? Remember, we're NLBN. Not exactly what you'd call a member of the mainstream news."

Jamie had an explanation for that, and it was a good one.

"Maybe that's exactly why us. Any larger network would have the resources to do a thorough background check, and quickly debunk the whole thing. The only reason they'd come after that would be to demand why someone was attempting to scam the media. Now the sisters are both familiar with the show, so they might have guessed that our standards are less stringent . . ."

Scott held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, you've convinced me. You think that someone currently unknown has an agenda for inviting us here, right?"

"Right."

"And it's nothing to do with ghosts, right?"

"Right."

"Okay Professor, so who's behind the whole thing? Verity? Not that I'm accusing her, but she's the one pushing the ghost story angle."

"I suppose she'd be the most likely suspect."

"Her sister could be helping her."

"Matthew says, well suggested really, that they don't get along. However, if they both have their own motives they could put their differences aside to work together."

"In any case that should make tonight much more interesting than I anticipated."

As Scott said this, Jamie looked at him questioningly and asked, "Why? What's happening tonight?"

"To get the story started with a bang, I made a suggestion to the Loren sisters for tonight. To my surprise, they both agreed to it."

For some reason Scott's plans were starting to make Jamie nervous. She just wished he'd get to the point and tell her already.

"What?"

"We're going to have a séance."

## Chapter 10

Scott expected Jamie to be surprised at his announcement. What he didn't expect was for her to pull a mule impression, and not be moved.

"A séance? Oh no, I don't think so."

Scott was taken aback. He and Charles had covered séances several times and they were hardly anything to cause so much drama.

"Why? Is it against your religion or something?"

He realized immediately, that this was the wrong question to ask.

"As a matter of fact it is. Necromancy . . ."

"Necroma-what?" Scott interrupted her.

"Communicating with the dead," Jamie explained.

"Oh, so necromancy, good word by the way, is objectionable to God. Why?"

Jamie crossed her arms and took a defensive posture asking, "Are you going to listen?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Communicating with the dead is strictly forbidden in the Bible. King Saul found that out the hard way when he visited the so-called witch of Endor."

Scott did know who King Saul and the witch of Endor were, but didn't want to follow that trail for reasons of his own.

"So, you're saying that you think that Verity can actually communicate with old George?"

This wasn't going well, Jamie realized, but she had no intention of taking part in the activity even at the cost of her job. And the Good Lord knew that she needed this job.

"No, I don't. The Bible is also very clear that once you die you go to judgment. That leaves two possibilities."

"Only two?"

Scott couldn't help the sarcasm that crept into his voice, and Jamie didn't appreciate it at all.

"Yes, just two, at least that I can think of at the moment."

"And what are they, pray tell?"

"You're not going to take me seriously, are you? If not, I might as well stop right now."

Her partner closed his eyes and tried to regain his patience. He hated arguing, especially when he was losing. But he wasn't going to admit that to his reporter.

"Look Professor, I'm not trying to offend you . . ."

"Offending me isn't the issue."

"Correction, I'm not trying to offend God. Just tell me, what are the two options? I'm taking you seriously, I just don't get it."

Jamie looked as if she didn't get him, but she did try to explain her concerns.

"The best case scenario is that Verity's imagination will run wild to the point where she thinks she's communicating with the spirits of dead humans."

"And the worst?"

"She might get more than she bargained for and meet up with something very nasty."

Scott was taken aback at that statement.

"Nasty? Like what? I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."

"I don't, but that doesn't mean I don't believe in spirits. They're just not of the human variety, and not all of them are friendly."

Scott had to stop himself from sighing with impatience. He respected her for taking a stand, he just didn't like that it was complicating the story.

"You are making too much of this. We have a show to do."

"I don't care."

In spite of respecting her, Scott decided that his new reporter was really beginning to annoy him. First, by going off on her own to investigate irrelevant facts, and now refusing to go along with his séance idea. He'd never had these kind of problems with Charles. Mostly because he was lazy and willing to let Scott run the show.

Yes, her fact finding was interesting, and maybe even compelling. But why couldn't she just do what he said, get the show filmed the way it should be, and forget about making a real story out of it?

However, realizing that she was not going to budge on this point, Scott decided on a compromise.

"Okay, how about this, I'll shoot the séance and then you can do a voice over in the studio for an intro and wrap up. Would that be acceptable?"

He thought he was being extremely magnanimous, but Jamie apparently had to think it over. Finally she agreed, "Fine, but I will not put any positive spins on it. I merely say it happened and what the result was. Deal?"

She held out her hand. Scott took her hand and they shook on it.

"Deal. Now I'm going to go inside and take a nap so I'm ready for our little drama tonight."

"A nap? Why? Do they want to hold it at the stroke of midnight or something?"

The question was not really a serious one, but if Verity was a true believer Jamie wouldn't put it past her.

"No, thank goodness, we're just waiting until dark. Fortunately that comes early this time of year. If you must know, the reason I need a nap is because I was traipsing up and down stairs and hills all day shooting interiors and exteriors while you were off playing detective."

Jamie crossed her arms and looked at him suspiciously. She wasn't sure if he was taking a shot or just too aggravated at her to realize what he was saying. Considering that he was determined to keep calling her 'Professor' when she had several times asked him not to, she leaned towards the former.

"Maybe if we have our facts straight before we go on assignment, I wouldn't have to play detective."

"When are you going to realize this is not . . . oh never mind. Are you coming in?"

"In a minute. There's someone I have to call first. "

Scott shrugged, went inside, and closed the door.

After he was gone, Jamie leaned against one of the porch pillars and looked out over the very impressive view. After a few minutes, she looked up into the sky and began to pray.

"Hi, this is Jamie, coming to you in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ. Sorry it's been so long, but I got sidetracked a little . . . okay a lot. But I guess you already knew that. Look, I admit I've been a little . . . again, a lot, upset with you lately. I know you have a plan, but do you think you could let me in on it?"

She paused as if expecting an audible answer, when it didn't come she sighed and continued, "Well, it was worth asking. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am. I mean, I didn't do what they accused me of, you know that, but I haven't been relying on you. That's bad because I need you desperately.

Help me with this job. Keep me from getting into any trouble due to the subject matter. More trouble I really would like to avoid right now.

"Please look over my family, and Scott too. The man concerns me. I'm not sure why yet. Also help with this assignment as there is something very strange going on. And I don't mean ghosts, and if it's not too much trouble, could you get him to quit call me Professor? I thought I was done with that nonsense in high school.

"I guess that's it for now. In Jesus' Name I Pray. Amen."

## Chapter 11

After her prayer, Jamie went into the kitchen, one of the few rooms on the main level that was not currently under construction, and sat down at the table.

Since Scott was taking a nap, she had decided it would be a good time to go over the notes of the preliminary interviews she'd conducted. She was hoping to get a sense of continuity of the fake story versus the real story.

After taking some time to get organized, she immediately discovered that all of her interviewee's answers dovetailed quite nicely, even in this preliminary version. They didn't matched identically, which would have raised red flags, but they had enough similarities to be truthful.

She then pulled out some photocopies from her messenger bag which mostly consisted of the relevant sections of the diary entries she'd found.

_Poor George,_ she thought as she glanced through them. His reputation besmirched by a website she didn't even think was real. She was glad he wasn't around to suffer from it.

However, what truly puzzled her was that whoever was behind the website seemed to have only one purpose.

To convince a small-time TV show to come and do a feature story on a bogus haunted house.

The why of that would answer everything, but she needed to settle on the who to figure that out.

There was the most obvious suspect, Verity, but was she fanatical enough to perpetrate a fraud? If so, for what purpose? The NLBN station was not exactly a major player in the media market. So any fame that Verity might gain for herself or her cause would be for far less than fifteen minutes. If that were her motive. She was, by her own admission, a big fan of the show, or at least the show as it had been under Charles Carlton. Could this be a case of a celebrity stalker?

Her mental theorizing was interrupted as a voice said behind her, "You look busy."

Jamie turned around and saw Lissy Loren standing in the doorway. She had her arms crossed and was literally looking down her nose at Jamie.

The reporter was not intimidated, she merely wondered why the other woman felt the need. She guessed she'd find out in about a minute.

Actually, it took less time than that.

Turning the paper she was reading face down on the table, she responded, "I'm just going over some preliminary interviews."

"Really? That sounds like it would make for interesting reading. Do you mind if I take a look?" the other woman asked, or rather demanded, as she came forward and held out her hand.

Jamie put her own hand protectively over the papers.

"Sorry, but I would mind."

"Why?"

"Because it's none of your business."

Lissy Loren put her hands to her hips, obviously gearing up for battle.

"Really? I don't agree. As you've no doubt noticed, my sister isn't very prudent in her choices. Such as hiring a handyman who's only true function seems to be providing eye candy. Not that I mind as long as he understand that his faux job is as far as it will go. Still, I feel the need to protect her from herself. Such as making a fool of herself on national television . . ."

"Hardly national."

Jamie's voice was calm and some reason that seemed to infuriate the other woman, which hadn't Jamie's been intention. But was interesting.

"Be that as it may, I agreed to have you here only to please my sister. But rest assured that I could also pull the plug on this whole thing in a nanosecond and see you and your partner out the door."

"No doubt you could. Should I start packing?"

Jamie's serene control of her voice and features not only angered Lissy, it threw her off her game. Knowing what she did about the reporter she'd thought she'd have the upper hand in this situation. But somehow it didn't seem to be working out that way.

"You should take me more seriously. Especially since the motivation for even having you here at all, Charles Carlton, is no longer a part of the equation. So, I'd advise you to tread very lightly, as I'm sure your employment options are extremely limited considering your recent job history, Ms. Moriarty, or should I say Moore?"

That revelation and mildly veiled threat was meant to relay the message to the reporter that Lissy Loren was completely aware of her past.

However, to the woman's consternation her announcement fell decidedly flat as Jamie barely acknowledged it.

"Ms. Loren," she countered reasonably. "Mr. Watson and I . . ."

"Will you quit using those stupid names? Everyone knows they're fake."

"Actually, they're not. Why do you think I used the name Moore? And yes, Jamie Moriarty is my real name. I've heard all of the jokes, don't bother. As for Scott, he should consider himself lucky that he wasn't named John. But back to kicking us out, we do have several other stories lined up. So if you don't want us here, please tell us now so we can stop wasting each other's time."

An angry Lissy stared hard, while Jamie stared back. There were a few seconds, but someone had to blink first. That someone was Lissy.

"Fine, have it your own way. I don't need to see your precious papers. Besides, the sooner we get this over and the house sold the better. It would have been done already if our caretaker hadn't worked on my sister's sympathy. He's fanatical about this wreck."

Lissy was surprised when Jamie didn't follow up on Matthew and instead went totally off topic.

"Where are your glasses?"

Stunned at the question, all of the hostility went out of Lissy' demeanor. Almost involuntarily her hand came up to her face as though she were surprised they weren't on her nose.

"Oh. I . . . I . . . don't need them all of the time."

Jamie nodded and said agreeably, "I understand, I don't need mine all of the time either."

Again, surprised that Jamie didn't follow-up on her advantage Lissy sputtered, "Well . . . all right . . . fine. I'll leave you to your work. See you at the séance."

"I'm won't be there."

As she had turned to leave, the woman stopped dead in her tracks, turned back and asked, "Excuse me?"

"I won't be at the séance."

"Why not?"

"I'm a Christian."

At Jamie's answer her adversary gave a positively unpleasant smile. Seeing what she thought was an opening to finally score against the other woman, she observed snidely, "Really? That hasn't stopped you from questionable behavior in the recent past. Just my opinion."

Rather than upset her, as it would have done just that morning, Jamie accepted what she couldn't change.

"And you're entitled to it, but then your opinion isn't the one that matters to me."

Knowing that she was losing the battle of wills Lissy decided that her only option was to retire in total defeat. As she stalked out of the kitchen she thought, _That name suits her better than I thought._

Alone again, Jamie put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her folded hands as she pondered this latest wrinkle. Had Lissy really expected her to hand over her interview notes? Not that there was anything secret about them, but they _were_ none of her business. Also, if she'd been serious about canceling the episode, why had she balked when presented with opportunity to do just that?

Maybe Verity wasn't the most likely suspect after all. It was possible that Lissy was exactly what she appeared to be, a concerned sister trying to protect the flighty Verity from making a fool of herself. But if that was true, what was she to make of Matthew Cullen's insinuations that this was merely a persona Lissy was portraying?

If Lissy was acting, Jamie didn't understand her methods . . . Oh great, now she was using Sherlock Holmes allusions. Better not do that out loud or Scott would have field day.

Still, unsociable as she was, the woman could be sincere and Matthew Jones could lying. True, he'd given her several good leads today, as well as his own version of events. But Lissy said that he was obsessed with the house.

Could the man really have created a whole ghost ruse in order to stop the sale of the house? He was, by his own admission an internet user, and setting up a website wasn't all that difficult these days. Such activities did not seem to line up with his practical character, and he claimed to be a Christian. But then Michael Webbings had claimed the same thing and he'd falsely accused her of fornication.

Then there was the beautiful, but superfluous Shane. What was he even doing here? The handyman was a walking, breathing question mark that just didn't fit the puzzle. That was just irritating. Seemingly useless puzzle pieces always were because sometimes they turned out to be not so useless.

So the situation came down to this. Someone had brought NLBN there for some reason, and it had nothing to do with a corny haunted house story.

## Chapter 12

Later as the evening's events got underway, Jamie decided the best way to avoid it was to wait outside. Even if she did suspect that it would all turn out to be much ado about nothing.

Fortunately it was a nice evening, so she decided to take advantage of the downtime and make a call to her mother.

Ever since recovering from her stroke, Ruth Moriarty had complained that her daughters were hovering, and it was driving her crazy. Which was why she'd told Jamie that it was almost a relief that her new job would require her to travel. At least that way her girls couldn't double team her.

As Scott had warned her earlier, Jamie found it difficult to get a clear signal. However, after a few minutes of moving around, she got her bars and made the call.

After exchanging some small talk, her mother asked bluntly, "So, how are you and the Lord getting along these days?"

Jamie had long ago stopped wondering how her mother knew these things, she just accepted it as fact.

"Well, we're talking again."

"He never stopped, dear."

"I know Mom, but this was all very hard to deal with, especially with it hitting all at once."

"Well dear, troubles rarely line up and take their turn. Remember that even Paul the Apostle had to deal with unfair accusations from the churches he founded. Trust the Lord, He has a plan which you'll know about soon enough."

"You know you're the second person to tell me that today?"

"Really? That's interesting."

"Yes it is. Any suggestions on how I get through this?" Jamie asked.

"Read the book of James, dear. Trials are just tests you need to pass, otherwise . . ."

"I'll have to do a retake?"

"Exactly."

Jamie gave a heavy sigh at that thought.

"I guess I'd better get to studying then. Once on this particular treadmill is more than enough."

"Especially since there will be new trials to deal with later."

"Oh joy."

Her mother laughed and asked, "Are you enjoying your new job?"

"It's not what I expected."

"Meaning?"

"Well my cameraman is giving me some pushback, he doesn't agree with my methods of investigative reporting. However, he is very accepting of me and my bad reputation because he believes me."

"I'm sure you'll work things out. He sounds like a smart man," Monica offered.

"Not a doubt. I just wish we could get on the same page, and that his name wasn't Watson."

"Yes, the Lord has a wonderful of humor."

"Not just the Lord."

Her mother was quick to defend herself against an old argument.

"Don't blame me, your father insisted you carry on the family tradition. With a name like Moriarty, he said, you need a sense of humor."

Jamie understood the sentiment, but putting it into practice wasn't always so easy.

Especially when someone named Watson insisted on calling you Professor.

Strategically, her mother changed the subject.

"I must admit, I'm a little concerned, about the subject matter I mean."

Jamie was quick to reassure her mother.

"First off, Mom, we just got here. We've done a few preliminary interviews but the only paranormal activity seems to be in the imagination of one of the owners of the house. They're doing a séance right now . . ."

"A what!"

"Calm down, Mom. I'm outside of the house, and made sure my objections were stated. Scott . . ."

"Scott?"

"Scott Watson, my cameraman, I guess he and the old host attended them frequently. Nothing ever really happened, and because of that he doesn't take them seriously, so he fails to understand why I do. However, we came to an understanding where I don't have to be actively involved, and I intend to hold him to it."

"Very wise of you, dear. Just as long as you remember it's all pretend."

"No problem there, Mom . . ."

A loud bit of static came on the line.

"Mom, let's wrap this up as the reception isn't good. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Jamie, you don't have to call me every day."

"I want to, Mom."

Her mother gave a small sigh before stating, "I wish you wouldn't worry. Your sister is taking wonderful care of me."

"I know that Mom, and I'll try to ease up, but no promises. Talk to you soon. Love you."

Jamie turned off her cell and sat down on the front step of the porch. She put her elbows on her knees, and then her chin in her hands. She hoped this séance mumbo jumbo wasn't going to go on too long.

As if on cue, Scott came out the front door, sat down beside her, and sighed the sigh of the totally disgruntled.

Jamie gave him a look of surprise, checked the time on her cell and asked, "That didn't take very long. So, did you get your money's worth? Did the ghost of George make an appearance?"

Scott gave her a sour look before asking, "Do you care?"

"No, but I'm trying to be supportive. My thanks for letting me off the hook."

He gave a brief laugh, shook his head in disgust and set his camera down beside him.

"No problem there. You're definitely off the hook. It was all a total waste of time and footage. Verity moaned a lot and tried to contact 'the spirits'. Too bad for us that they all seemed to be taking the night off. Although she gave it her best effort, it was a spectacular failure. I suspect she was embarrassed, while her sister just looked disgusted. Of course, on the few occasions I've seen her, she always looks like that, so it might not mean anything."

"Did she have her glasses on?"

Scott gave her a double take at that suspiciously innocuous question, which had nothing to do with the situation at hand.

"Sure she did. Why?"

His partner shrugged and responded, "She didn't have them on earlier and that seemed odd."

Scott wondered what Jamie was getting at, mostly because she was confusing him. A circumstance to which he'd soon become accustomed whenever she tried to explain anything to him.

Still, the poor man tried.

"Why is Lissy having her glasses on or off important?"

"It might not be."

From the offhand way she said that, Scott realized that Jamie actually thought she was answering his question. However, as far as he was concerned, something was getting lost between her brain and her mouth, which his response clearly conveyed.

"What?"

Jamie gave him a look as if she didn't understand why he didn't understand. But deciding that it wasn't that important, well not yet, she made a dismissive gesture.

"Never mind. Let's get back to what went on inside. You said that Verity and George weren't talking, Lissy was unhappy for some reason, and . . ."

"And nothing," Scott said with a snort. "It was all very weird, but not in a way we can use. For one thing, it would bore our viewers to de . . . I mean tears. I admit, it's happened before, but not this bad. Not even good editing could fix it."

That got Jamie's attention.

"You've edited spiritual activity?"

Scott rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so literal. What I meant by editing was that we can usually make these events look mysterious. In this case, it was just too corny for that. You know, I'm having my doubts about Verity being behind any bogus ghost story or the website that inspired it. Believe me, she's too bad of an actress to be a nefarious mastermind."

"Or she's good at playing a bad actress."

In spite of his determination not to let Jamie lead him down the logic path, again, that suggestion actually intrigued him. So he asked, "What makes you say that?"

"Well, she's so in character all of the time, or hadn't you noticed?"

"You're just jealous because you want to wear the long robes and a turban."

Jamie laughed, both at his teasing and at the mental image of herself in Verity's outfit.

"Darn, the secret is out. I covet the robes and turban. How did you guess? Okay, if you don't like Verity as a suspect, what about Lissy?"

Once again losing the battle not to complicate what he thought should be simple, Scott expressed his doubts.

"I don't know, I think she's smart enough, but do you really think she's got the imagination to come up with a fake website? According to you, that's what made the 'Ghost of George' so effective in the first place."

"She could have had help."

_Was the woman never at a loss for a comeback?_ Scott wondered

"Look Professor, not to offend you, but could you possibly be suspicious of her, glasses aside, because she was playing the 'mean girl' with you earlier? At least that's what it sounded like when you told me about it."

When Jamie didn't answer immediately, he thought he might really have insulted her, but she surprised him.

"Truthfully, I wouldn't rule it out, I'm human after all. But really, she hasn't said anything worse than anything else I've been hearing lately."

"Yeah, and you know what? That still really stinks."

"Indeed it does, but I can't control what other people do or say."

Remembering how forlorn she'd seemed earlier on that very subject, Scott remarked, "That's very profound of you, Professor."

"It is what it is, my dear Watson."

It was indeed, but what Scott couldn't figure was how she'd come to accept that so quickly. After all he was still . . .

But then he wasn't Jamie Moriarty. Whatever that was.

"Enough introspection. Let's get back to the suspects. What about our cantankerous caretaker, Matthew Jones? Or is he out of the question because he's a fellow Christian?"

"Actually, I did consider Matthew."

"Really?"

Jamie nodded and explained, "Really. Lissy, and according to you, Shane the handyman, have both said that Matthew is very attached to the place. They could be right, and if they are, knowing Verity's views and Verity herself so well, Matthew could have thought up the ghost story to capture her imagination. Also, he's internet savvy, so don't be fooled by his age."

"So he could have come up with the fake website," Scott mused. "You know, I would have thought you'd have stood up for him. Being a fellow Christian and all."

"Truth be told, I haven't come to any firm conclusions as of yet. Also, just to be clear, Matthew is at the bottom of my suspect list. However, if I've learned anything from my recent unfortunate experience, just because someone claims to know Christ, doesn't make them a Christian."

Scott wagged a finger and said, "So you're being cautious? Good idea."

"Thank you. What about the handsome handyman?"

"Shane? I doubt it. From what I've observed, I think Matthew has him pegged just right. Not much in brainpower or ambition. Elaborate conspiracies require both, in abundance."

Jamie looked at him thoughtfully before she asked, "You don't always take people at face value do you?"

Scott looked more than a little put out by this suggestion.

"Of course not. I'm a hard bitten professional, and therefore suspicious of everyone and everything."

That sounded right, but Jamie was becoming concerned. He wasn't stupid, just . . .

"Okay, but remember that you cannot tell what people are really like unless they want you to know. Or until you find them out, whichever comes first. Trust me, Watson, I speak from recent experience."

Scott thought he knew what she was accusing him of, but he was wrong.

"Do really you think I'm that gullible?"

Jamie gave a little shake of her head and denied, "No. I just think you're in too much of a hurry to make good TV."

She'd have elaborated if he'd let her, but he thought she was done so he moved on.

That was a mistake that would come back to haunt him, so to speak.

"Someone needs to, especially since we have a ghostless haunted house to deal with, which is dead boring. We need some excitement, or at least a sense of dread. Do you want to take a trip up to the attic with me?"

Jamie couldn't help it, she was intrigued, if a little dubious.

"I don't know. What's in the attic?"

Scott stood to his feet and reached out his hand to help her up saying in a mock-spooky voice, "According to Verity there's been major spiritual activity going on up there lately."

"Isn't it a little dark?"

Scott actually laughed.

"Are you afraid of the dark, little girl? Come on Professor, it makes for good atmosphere, and we need to salvage something out of tonight. Time is money and our budget will only hold us over for another day, maybe two if Leo's feeling generous, and I wouldn't count on that happening. Then we have to be on our way to the next shoot, so we need something. If it reassures you, the lights work."

Scott picked up his camera and went over to the door. He opened it, gave a mock bow, and with a sweep of his arm invited, "After you, Professor."

Jamie crossed her arms and considered him for a moment before rolling her eyes and walking through the door.

## Chapter 13

"See," Scott said a few minutes later as he flipped the attic light switch. "No need to be scared."

Magnanimously declining to point out that she hadn't been scared in the first place, Jamie looked around and saw . . . an attic. A room loaded with packed boxes and no longer used furniture items.

"From what I recall, the information we were provided by the station didn't have that much to say about the attic. You said that Verity was the one who told you about unusual happenings?"

Scott wasn't really paying attention to her question as he was looking around wondering if he'd enough light to make filming worthwhile. Finally he decided it might be better to wait until the next day.

An attic with spooky shadows was always an audience pleaser, but they did need to actually see something.

"Scott? Watson!" Jamie prompted.

He started and asked eloquently, "Huh?"

"When did Verity tell you about the attic?"

"Oh. Earlier, while you were out fact checking and I was left to my own devices."

That was . . . interesting.

"So what does she say has been happening up here? Any sightings or just banging doors and drafts?"

"Banging doors and drafts," Scott admitted with a smile. "But to hear Verity tell it . . ."

Then, marvels of marvels, Jamie actually heard something.

"Watson! Do you hear that?"

"Hear what? Wait. Are those voices? You mean we actually have something?"

Scott's first instinct at the distinct sound of disembodied voices was to turn on his camera, but he stopped as Jamie put her index finger to her mouth in a 'hush' signal. She looked about and walked over to the origin of the voices which appeared to be against a wall. After a few seconds she waved him over and pointed him toward the source, a large air vent.

The conversation, as it turned out, was suggestive, but not at all paranormal.

". . . in the house," one whispery voice, clearly female, said acidly. "We needed someone with a bent towards the sensational, and clueless, not smart."

"You make it sound like she's on to us," another voice, male this time, whispered back.

"She's on to something, and I highly suspect that she's not taking the ghost story seriously. The long and short is that we're putting out a lot of effort and getting very little in return. The séance was a total waste of time, nothing worked right. Ridiculous. Especially after the build-up we gave it. What happened?"

"That was not my fault. I warned you that everything was in a mess. Nothing can be set up properly because I'm constantly tripping over a contractor or carpenter or handyman of some sort," the male voice defended himself.

"I'm not interested in excuses," the female shot back, "just results. Get your act together and get things organized. Time is of the essence here you know."

"Okay, okay. So what do you want to do about the present situation? Arrange an accident or something?"

"Don't be a fool."

"Nothing serious. Just break a limb or something. The others are easy, and it might even distract the old man enough to make him useful . . ."

"Still too extreme. Tabloid TV shows are one thing, law enforcement is something else entirely."

"Fine, then you'd better come up with an idea, and fast. One thing I do know is that television crews have a very limited attention span, especially when they aren't getting results. Our window of opportunity is closing."

The female voice lamented, "I just never thought the old man would be so hard to pin down. You're right. We will have to adjust our plans . . ."

The voices faded at that point indicating that the speakers had moved to where their voices no longer carried.

"Let's go outside," Jamie whispered to Scott. "If we can hear them, it's very possible they could hear us as well."

Scott nodded and they quickly exited the room and hurried outside.

Once they were on the porch, Scott made an observation.

"This porch is becoming a regular meeting place. Wait, let me do a perimeter check for eavesdroppers. I never thought we needed to do it before."

He opened the door to verify that no one was skulking inside and then checked both sides of the house.

"All clear," he called as he joined Jamie.

"Good thinking. Well, Watson, you were right, the attic did prove to be quite enlightening."

"And disturbing. Remind me not to have any private conversations in there. That venting system is worse than being wired for sound."

Jamie gave a brief laugh and agreed, "Old houses are proving to be a wealth of surprises. Including getting more than we bargained for, even if it's based in reality not the paranormal. You okay with that?"

Scott leaned against a pillar and assured her, "Do I have a choice? But fair warning, Leo isn't going to be happy. Unless we bring him a better story."

Jamie couldn't help it, she rolled her eyes.

"I think we have more immediate considerations here."

"Like what?"

"Like warning the Loren sisters."

Her cameraman looked confused.

"Why would we need to warn them of anything? Especially since one of them has to be in on it. Remember one of the whisperers was a woman."

Jamie looked surprised at Scott's question.

"Didn't you hear what I heard? Whoever our whisperers are, they're contemplating actually hurting someone. Even if one or both of the sisters are involved, we can't take the chance of anyone getting hurt because of . . ."

She stopped mid-sentence as her partner held up his hand and interrupted her, "When that suggestion was made I don't think they were talking about the Loren sisters. I think they were talking about you."

From the look on her face, Scott correctly surmised that his colleague hadn't even considered that option.

"Me? They couldn't have meant _that._ Why do you think they were talking about me?"

Now it was Scott's turn to point out the obvious.

"Someone not buying the ghost story? Expecting someone else with a bent towards the sensational, but getting someone smart instead? Now assuming that only one of the sisters is acting, Verity is lost in her own little world, and could hardly be seen as a threat. While Lissy may be smart and a skeptic, but she's got nothing to do with a tabloid TV show."

Jamie took a moment to consider the logic of Scott's argument. Finally she said the only thing she could.

"Oh."

"Right. Hopefully they come up with a different plan other than breaking your leg. I'd hate to have to start all over again with another reporter."

"Gee thanks Watson, your concern for my welfare is quite touching."

Not picking up on her sarcasm, Scott responded, "No problem. You know I just realized that you seem to have a whole new lot in life."

Jamie narrowed her eyes and asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, if what you told me about what old Matthew told you is correct, then you seem to be destined to have some people scared that you'll upset their nefarious plans. What would Sherlock Holmes say?"

Scott would never have an answer to that rhetorical question as they were interrupted by a gruff voice saying behind them, "What's going on out here?"

They turned their heads to find themselves being confronted by a very annoyed and very suspicious looking caretaker.

## Chapter 14

Scott was a bit nonplussed at Matthew's sudden appearance, until he remembered that Jamie had told him that the man was being given a lift back from town. How long had he been back and what had he heard?

So much for checking for eavesdroppers.

He quickly looked to his partner who didn't seem to share his concerns. In fact, Jamie appeared to be as annoyed with Matthew as he was at her.

"Matthew," Jamie stated without ceremony. "This situation is getting serious. Something is going on here that has nothing to do with ghosts. You obviously know what it is. So stop playing games and tell us already."

Then so quickly that Scott couldn't raise an objection, Jamie explained about the conversation they'd just overheard in the attic.

Matthew paid close attention to her explanation, especially when she got to the part about her being threatened.

"One of them actually threatened to break one of your limbs? You're right, Jamie, that's serious, and something needs to be done."

Scott, taken aback by his partner's bluntness, decided it was time for an intervention.

With a quick "Just a minute" to Matthew, he pulled Jamie aside and asked quietly, "Aren't you assuming a lot, Professor? Maybe Matthew is one of the whisperers. You admitted you had doubts about him, remember?"

"I know, but that was before I heard our mysterious whisperers make the comment about how the old man was hard to pin down and not being useful to them. Matthew is the only old man around the place, unless you've noticed someone I haven't. Have you? You were around the house all day. Did you notice someone on the construction crew that might fit?"

Realizing that she was being serious and not mocking him, Scott had to admit, "No, they're all fairly young. Okay I get what you're saying, but what if you're wrong?"

Jamie put her hand on his arm reassuringly.

"I admit that it's a calculated risk, but we need to get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can. You're the one who pointed out that our whisperers are getting nervous. Even if they do back off on me, that could still make them reckless, and that could be dangerous. I think it's worth taking the chance on Matthew not being involved. However, if you have a better idea, Watson, I'm all ears."

Scott knew she was right, and not having a better idea, he agreed. "Okay, Professor, it's your show."

"Do you two want to listen, or not?" Matthew called over to them. "I'm an old man and the night air isn't good for my joints."

As Scott started to get his camera, Matthew stopped him.

"Not just yet, Scott. Knowing and proving are two different things. Let's get the proof first, then you can film me to your heart's content."

Scott opened his mouth to protest, but Jamie intervened.

"I think he's right. There's no use in ruining our credibility before we even get started."

He gave an obvious double-take when she said that.

"Credibility? You do remember who we work for right? We don't have any credibility."

Jamie gave a heavy sigh, shook her head and stated, "Let's pretend, shall we? But keep the camera up as if we're interviewing him. Just in case someone sneaks up on us again. Okay Matthew, let's hear it. What do you think, or should I say, what do you know is going on?"

Matthew took a deep breath in and let it out, then began his story.

"The trouble all started once Peter Loren, the girls' grandfather, died and left everything to Verity . . ."

Even though he'd just started, Jamie had to get that clarified.

"Wait. Verity is the sole heir? Both sisters didn't inherit?"

"No. Just Verity."

Jamie looked at Scott and said almost in an accusatory fashion, "That would have been nice to know."

Scott held up a hand in defense and stated, "Take it up with Leo, he's the one in charge of this stuff."

Jamie gave an impatient shake of her head, turned back to the caretaker and urged, "Go on with your story, Matthew. Why did only Verity inherit?"

Matthew looked amused as he told his tale.

"Well, her granddad thought Verity was a flake, and she is, but she's a harmless flake. She changes fads like some women change shoes. Right now she's into spiritualism. Last year it was interior design and do-it-yourself. Next year it will be something else. I don't know what she's looking for, but nothing seems to make her happy for long. She even 'tried on' as she put it, Christianity, but she never really committed herself to Christ. So, like one of the tares, she dropped away."

Scott did not understand the tares comment, although he probably should. However, Jamie nodded at the Biblical reference.

"And Lissy?"

"One word describes her. Driven," Matthew answered Jamie.

"Driven? By what?"

"Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die."

By this point Scott had had it with not understanding what the other two were talking about.

"Okay that's it, what's with the tares and the aphorism . . ."

Both Matthew and Jamie looked at Scott as if he had suddenly grown two heads.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"What's an aphorism, and how does it apply to a Bible verse?"

"Bible verse?" Scott asked in astonishment to Matthew's question, and with some embarrassment, which he tried desperately to hide.

"An aphorism," Jamie responded to Matthew, "Is a cliché."

She then turned and answered Scott, "'Let us eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die' isn't an aphorism. As Matthew pointed out, it's a Bible verse."

"Are you sure?" Scott asked skeptically.

"Isaiah 22:13," Matthew supplied.

"Paul also quoted it in 1 Corinthian 15:32," Jamie reminded him.

"You're right, Jamie, I'd forgotten about that."

"Okay, okay enough of the Sunday school lesson," Scott interrupted, becoming aggravated all over again. "Just tell me how it applies to Lissy? She struck me as the uptight sort."

Matthew gave a snort and shook his head decidedly.

"Oh no, that's a carefully crafted image she likes to portray. She started using it when her grandfather was still around. Don't let her fool you. Get that frizzy hair into shape, take off the glasses, and she cleans up real nice. She's also very fond of the high life."

It was then that Scott remembered how Jamie had been harping on Lissy' glasses.

"Professor, why would Lissy not wearing her glasses bother you?"

His partner took a minute before she answered, wanting to make sure that this time she explained her suspicions clearly.

Once again, it didn't work.

"It wasn't that she didn't have them on that bothered me. I don't wear mine all of the time, either."

"Because you don't need them," her cameraman stated.

"Exactly."

At that confirmation, Scott looked at her and she looked back. Finally, he looked to Matthew who appeared to be just as lost by Jamie's 'explanation' as he was. It was nice to have company.

"Is that supposed to make sense?" he challenged.

Jamie crossed her arms and frowned in consternation. _Good grief,_ Scott thought, _she even looks good when she frowns._

_Redheads,_ he reminded himself. _I like redheads. Not blonds. Even if they're beautiful, smart, and drive me absolutely crazy_ . . .

_Back on point Scott,_ he admonished himself. _Lissy' glasses._

"Professor . . ."

"Give me a minute," she said, tapping her foot as she thought. Finally, she tried again.

"When we first met Lissy, and she noticed me, what did she do?"

Now it was Scott's turn to think.

"She read a card. So what? It probably listed mine and Charles's name, and you don't look like a Scott or a Charles."

"Fair enough, but that's not my point. When she read it, she looked over her glasses right?"

"Right, she pulled them down her nose. Then she insulted you in a roundabout way. Was it Lissy you were staring at? I wondered at the time."

"Yes, because what she did next struck me as strange."

"She did something? I don't remember that. What did she do?"

"She looked down her nose at me, again over her glasses."

Once again, the two men looked at each other in obvious dismay, and then back to Jamie.

Jamie threw up her hands in frustration.

"Guys, when was the last time you saw anyone, who wore lenses that thick, look over them both to read, and look at a distance?"

The metaphoric light bulb of understanding appeared over Scott's head.

"It was off," he said, quoting her words to her.

His partner sighed in relief that she wouldn't have to go through all of that again.

"Right, and after a while, those kind of things begin to add up."

Matthew gave a disparaging noise at his own failure to notice the obvious.

"I never thought about those glasses being phony. She just showed up with them one day. Other times when she didn't have them on I just figured she was wearing contacts. They must have been part of her prim and proper act to keep her allowance coming."

"She was on an allowance?"

Jamie was astonished.

"Sure," Matthew answered with a smile. "She and Verity both were. Some rich folks just don't want to get a job."

Scott patted his partner's shoulder and said, "They live differently from working stiffs like us Jamie."

"I guess. I haven't been on an allowance since . . . I don't remember it's been so long, and Lissy is older than me by . . . how old is she Matthew?"

"Just turned forty-four. Although she'll never admit to it."

Jamie was appalled.

"She's twenty years older than me and she's never had a job?"

Scott looked at her in surprise asking, "You're only twenty-four?"

"Why do you say that like I'm under age? How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight."

"So that makes you practically Methuselah?"

It was Matthew who brought this exchange to an end, even though it was highly entertaining.

"I bet I've got jeans older than both of you combined, so back to the Loren girls. No, they've never had a job, and both got an allowance. Verity lived within hers, but Lissy has extravagant tastes. She was constantly wheedling more money out of her grandfather until finally he began to wonder what she was spending it on. Once he found out, he was not pleased and changed his will."

"She didn't figure out something was up?" Scott asked. "I thought you said she was devious."

"Oh she is, but she also thinks a lot of her own intelligence, and very little of anyone else's."

Remembering their confrontation in the kitchen, Jamie could well believe that.

"Don't get me wrong," Matthew continued. "She's smart, just not as smart as she thinks, and definitely not as smart as her grandfather. Anyway, Peter cut her out of his will, going so far as to state that none of her debts were to be paid with his money. Those debts, I understand, are now quite considerable, and her creditors are getting restless and not being pleasant about it. As a result, she's getting desperate. That's what I think started all of this."

"How big was the estate?" Jamie asked.

"Big. Even with the economic downturn. Verity was appalled, of course. I think she would've handed over the entire inheritance to her sister if she were allowed. She may be a flake, but she isn't greedy."

"If she were allowed? Why wouldn't she be allowed? She inherited right?"

Matthew gave a chuckle at Scott's question.

"Yes, she inherited, but there are serious strings attached."

"Strings?" Scott asked archly. "I bet the sisters loved that."

"I don't think Verity really cares. She prefers to have things taken care of for her. Lissy . . . well I can only imagine, although she held her temper well enough when the will was read."

"Tell us about the strings, Matthew."

"From what I could understand, Jamie, you know how legalese is, the estate assets are all held in a very, very solid trust. The old man might have been fooled by Lissy for a long time, but he wasn't a fool. Knowing first-hand about Lissy's ability to manipulate people, he made provisions to protect Verity from her. She's on a strict budget, and the executor, the old man's attorney, was instructed to keep track of every cent she spends. Except for charitable contributions. As long as they're approved, Peter gave her full leeway there."

"Charitable contributions."

Scott looked at Jamie when she said that. He wondered why she was making a point of that, but decided to ask her about it later. For now, he wanted to know about more recent events.

"Matthew, if it was Lissy we heard up in the attic that means she has a partner of the male persuasion. Do you have any idea who it might be?"

The caretaker shook his head emphatically.

"Sorry, Scott, not a clue. She very wisely never brought any of her so-called friends around her grandfather. With good reason from what Peter found out later when he'd her investigated. However, I wouldn't doubt that she could have found someone to do some dirty work for her at a price."

"What about Shane? I know none of us take him seriously, but he's here . . ."

Matthew actually laughed at Scott's suggestion saying, "Doubtful, the boy's got more hair than brains. Besides he's Verity's friend. That's why she's giving him money on the pretext of his being a handyman. Why bite the hand that's feeding you?"

"If he's out, that means we've got an unknown accomplice sitting out there somewhere ready to do nefarious dealings for our Miss Lissy. You were right Professor, there are no ghosts about. Darn shame. Well, we're just going to have to make the best of it."

"How magnanimous of you," Jamie responded. "But what will our employer think?"

The question was tongue-in-cheek, but Scott took her seriously.

"As I already said, as long as we bring him a better story, he won't mind. So what do we do now?"

Jamie didn't even hesitate.

"Tell Verity the truth."

Matthew shook his head emphatically.

"She'll never believe you. Her grandfather, me, almost everyone she knows has tried to warn her about Lissy. She just refuses to see what's right in front of her."

"I disagree, and anything else makes the resolution much more complicated. We've been playing Lissy's game by her rules. So if we're not going to tell Verity the truth, which I still think . . ."

"So you said," Matthew stated.

_Meaning he wasn't going for it,_ Jamie thought. Since they couldn't pull this off without his help, she was forced to go against her better judgment and offer an alternative solution. She didn't like it, but she was being given no choice.

"Then we'll have to substitute a few of our own."

Scott, almost magically recovering his good humor, offered, "That sounds like fun."

Jamie shot him an 'are you serious?' look.

"I suppose that would depend on you define fun," she advised.

Even Matthew seemed intrigued.

"Change the rules? How are you going to do that, Jamie?"

By way of an answer, Jamie pulled out her cell and started searching for bars.

"First, I'm going to call Mr. Dante."

"Professor, call him Leo, he doesn't respond to Mister anything."

"Okay," she agreed absently, "Leo. Right. We're going to new a few more facts, and in a very timely manner."

"Then Leo is your man, he can find out just about anything if you push him."

Jamie gave Scott a questioning look and asked, "If he can do that, why didn't we have better information before we came he?"

"Because that would take time, and time costs money."

Jamie's face went blank for a second or two, then shook her head as she decided that some arguments would just have to wait.

## Chapter 15

The next morning, the NLBN team was finally able to get down to business with the interior shots and interviews that would bring their episode together.

After a brief meeting, Jamie and Scott decided to start with the story of George. After all, he was the star of the show, so to speak.

After consulting with Verity, they settled on filming in one of the upstairs areas of the house where a formal portrait of George was hanging. They were also delighted to find out that the construction crew was not scheduled for that day, so they wouldn't have to contend with any noise.

The only problem they couldn't seem to solve easily was the lighting. First, they were on the side of the house that never received direct sunlight, and the electrical lights were not so good.

All of which was great for preserving the longevity of the hanging portraits, but not so much for filming. Especially as NLBN's budget did not allow for lighting equipment or the crew to run it.

Scott's mounted camera light was helping, but he couldn't be sure how it would turn out. Still, since George was the central figure of the story, his portrait shots were considered essential.

Jamie had suggested moving the portrait to a better location, but Scott had balked due to past experience. He explained that moving large framed oil portraits was a logistical nightmare. They were heavy, old, and delicate. After hearing his explanation, Jamie had agreed that they should take their chances and hope for the best.

So after breakfast, they set things up with Verity and actually got to work.

"This is a picture of dear George," Verity explained, pointing to a large portrait. "While he was alive of course."

"Of course," Jamie said as she held the microphone.

Behind the camera, Scott found himself acquiring a deep admiration for his new partner's talent. She had a real knack for interviewing people in a way that was both perceptive and non-confrontational. This kept the interviewee comfortable, which made them appear at ease on camera, vital for an entertainment program.

Charles had never had that knack, his style being more . . . well, Charles had described it as classic newsman, while his cameraman had called it boring.

Scott decided he'd be glad when Leo got back to them and they could call this shoot a wrap. He'd forgotten that reality was much more exhausting than the sensational.

Also, it was worrying them that no one knew where Lissy had gotten to so early. Matthew was trying to track her down, but so far he hadn't had any luck.

"So Verity," Jamie was asking. "You truly believe that George is still roaming the halls of the house?"

"Yes indeed," the woman gushed. "I myself have felt his presence many times . . ."

As she warmed to her subject, the woman started to wave her arms about excitedly. This caused the large dangling bracelets about her wrists to clang noisily. Jamie instinctively stepped back as it seemed the other woman would accidentally hit the microphone with her flailing hands.

At that point, Scott shook his head and lowered the camera.

"What's wrong?" Verity asked.

"Sorry," he explained, pulling away an earphone which helped him monitor the sound. "The bracelets are making too much noise. We're going to lose your voice."

Verity was immediately contrite.

"I'm so sorry. Should I take them off?"

Jamie gave her a reassuring smile and agreed, "That might be best. That way you can feel free to move about without constraint."

As Verity started to take off the costume jewelry, she confirmed Scott's analysis, saying, "Jamie, you're very good at this. I was disappointed that Charles . . . I mean Mr. Carlton was no longer the host, but you've such a nice manner about you."

"Thank you, Verity," Jamie said, accepting the compliment graciously.

"Especially as I know you're not a true believer."

"How do you know about that?" Scott asked curiously.

"Matthew told me. Apparently, Jamie, the two of you are kindred souls. Dear Matthew, he's always trying to convince me of the error of my beliefs. I've known him forever, and I love the man dearly, but he's so narrow . . ."

At that point, they heard the sound of running feet coming towards them.

Verity asked, "What in the world? It can't be George, can it?"

It wasn't a minute or so later that Shane Conrad came rushing towards them.

"Miss Moriarty," he said, breathing hard from the exertion. "You need to get outside right now!"

The man was speaking urgently, and without apparent cause, so Jamie was immediately suspicious.

"Why?"

"Yeah, why? We're in the middle of shooting here," Scott said resentfully.

"The sheriff's out there. He says that they received a call. Something about your mother."

"My mother? What happened?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know. The sheriff said something about not being able to reach you on your cell. Since the phone lines here are so messed up with the remodel, they finally called him to get in touch with you, so it must be important."

The man's concerned tone only made Jamie grow more frantic with every word.

"Scott, I'm sorry . . ."

"Jamie, go. Verity and I can do some tests to see if we can work with the lighting better. Find out about your mom. Just let me know what happened."

Jamie nodded and quickly ran down the hallway. Verity turned to Scott with concern.

"Her mother?"

"She's been ill recently," Scott explained.

"Oh yes, she had a stroke. Poor thing, I hope she's all right."

"I'm sure everything will be fine . . ."

Scott paused as he realized what Verity had just said.

"Verity, how did you know Jamie's mother had a stroke? Did Jamie tell you?"

Verity shook her head and answered, "No, Lissy did."

"Lissy?"

As Scott said that, he fully realized the ramifications. Jamie would never have told Lissy anything personal. So that meant that Lissy had gone to the trouble to find out on her own. And that meant that Shane . . .

_Oh brother,_ he thought, it was so obvious. _How could we have missed it?_

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

"Verity, we need to go, now. Before it's too . . ."

However, before he could say anything further, it was too late.

## Chapter 16

Meanwhile, Jamie was down the stairs and outside the house in only a few seconds. Such was her distress that once she was on the porch it took her a minute to comprehend the obvious.

There was no one there.

Confused, she looked around. Only then did she realize that Shane, who she'd thought was right behind her after delivering his news, was not there, either.

"NO!" she shouted and ran back toward the door.

However, she was too late. The front door slammed before she could get near it, and simultaneously, all the outside shutters slammed shut as well. She turned the knob, but the door wouldn't budge.

Then the noises started.

Jamie put her ear to the door so she could get a better idea of what they were dealing with. She heard banging, chains rattling, moaning, and all the other standard haunted house stuff. It was so contrived and unimaginative that it would have been comical had she not been sure that poor Verity was taking it all seriously.

Hopefully Scott would be able to . . .

"What's going on?" Matthew exclaimed as he came around the corner and saw Jamie.

Jamie looked at him and stated what she thought was the obvious.

"I'm an idiot, that's what's going on. This is what Lissy meant when she told her cohort to get his act together and get things organized. They've somehow set-up the house to close up and lock us out! Then there's this."

Jamie pointed to the door. Matthew put his ear to it and listened for a minute. He shook his head as he pulled back.

"Corny, but no doubt Verity will be fooled."

"I know. Matthew, what are you doing out here, anyway?"

"I saw Lissy leave the house and I wondered what she was up to, so I followed her. She must have gotten behind me somehow and got back into the house. What about you, Jamie? I thought you were filming your show."

"We were, but I got fed a song and dance story that the sheriff had come because a call couldn't get through to me. You know how bad the reception is here. Anyway, I assumed something had happened to our mother, so I panicked and fell for it. I'm so stupid!"

"That makes you a concerned daughter, Jamie, not stupid. But why did you believe Lissy?"

"Because it wasn't Lissy who told me, it was Shane. But why would he help Lissy? You said he was a friend of Verity's, right?"

"That's what Verity told me . . ."

Suddenly Matthew stopped speaking, closed his eyes and gave a small grunt.

Knowing that they'd missed something major, Jamie put her hand to her forehead and asked with a sense of foreboding, "What?"

"Now I'm the idiot. She never said he was her friend. Her exact words were that he was a mutual friend. What's that mean to you?"

"She probably meant that he's a friend of a friend, and in this case, that probably means Lissy."

Matthew, now taking Shane more seriously, looked annoyed.

"Makes sense. Lissy would have needed someone to set up the electronics to pull this kind of thing off. The woman can't even plug in a television by herself. Still, Shane? He just seemed too lazy to put out such an effort. Obviously an act, and I believed it."

"I did too. So he waits until Lissy lures you outside, and then tricks me out as well. But how did he know about . . . oh, that's a stupid question, every minute of my life is on the internet these days. I kept my mother's condition secret at the time, but I'm sure someone has posted something about it by now. Never mind, we can't get in here, how about another door?"

"It's like this all over," Matthew confirmed. "Except for the basement access."

"Then we can use that."

The caretaker negated the idea immediately.

"No good. Once I heard all the racket I tried to get in that way. I got into the basement okay, but the door to the house is locked tight."

Jamie banged a frustrated fist on the door. This proved to be a mistake as hurting her hand was all she accomplished.

"Are you okay?" Matthew asked as she shook her hand in pain.

"Yes, I just feel very humbled right now. We have to do something. If this goes on too long they'll have Verity convinced to do whatever it is they want her to do."

"I love her, but Verity can be gullible. Where's your cameraman?"

"He's still in there with Verity."

"Really? Wait, let me give this a try," Matthew said as he started sorting through a large key ring. "So why do you think they just got rid of you and not your partner?"

"They had a 50/50 chance there. Either Scott would come with me, or he'd stay with Verity. Either way I don't think it would matter as far as their plan went. There isn't much Scott can do against noises, and locked doors, and shutters. He, however, can take care of himself. But Verity . . ."

"I know," Matthew agreed as he finally found the front door key. He tried it, but although the impressive lock turned, the heavy wooden door still wouldn't budge.

"Now this is just getting annoying," the old man muttered. "We still don't know what they want Verity to do exactly. Haven't you heard back from your station manager yet?"

"Not yet, but he assured me that he was going to handle this personally. Scott said that was good because Mr. Dante . . . I mean Leo has awesome business connections. Still, Leo did warn me that this kind of information might take some time to nail down. Apparently, the red tape involved is extreme in nature. Especially if someone is trying to cover their tracks."

Jamie went to one of the windows, but the heavy, wood, door-like shutter was not going anywhere. They'd need an axe to get through both the shutter and the new, double-paned windows. But even if they had one, would either she or Matthew have the physical strength to accomplish the task?

_Oh God,_ she prayed earnestly. _I don't know what to do. Please give help me. What do I do?_

Although truly sincere, Jamie was totally unprepared when God answered her prayer immediately, and in a most unusual way.

## Chapter 17

Matthew and Jamie were startled when a large object fell out of one of the upper stories of the house and crashed loudly on the front lawn.

After freezing from the initial shock, they rushed over to the cause and found a broken piece of crockery of some sort. Looking up, they saw Scott leaning out of the open attic window waving.

"Thank you," Jamie said softly to the One who'd answered the prayer, but she addressed her next comment to Matthew.

"That's weird, why didn't they rig up the attic with the rest of the house?"

Matthew thought about the question before he answered, "They probably couldn't manage it. The electricity up there is ancient. Shane would have had to do a complete re-wiring job, and that would have been difficult to do on the sneak."

"Being rewiring-challenged, I'll take your word on that," Jamie muttered, then called up to her partner, "Scott, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but I can't say the same for the house. It sounds like it's coming apart at the seams."

"It's not."

In spite of her concern, Jamie couldn't help but be a bit annoyed by his jaunty tone of voice. If she hadn't known better, and maybe she didn't, she'd swear he was enjoying himself.

"Is Verity with you?" Matthew called up.

"Yes, she's here. Once the 'disturbance' started, we tried to get downstairs, but we kept getting turned around."

"You got lost?"

Jamie didn't mean to be sarcastic, but she'd gotten out in seconds despite her disturbed state of mind.

Evidently Scott caught the disbelief in the question as he defended himself immediately.

"Give me a break will you? Once the shutters all slammed closed and the lights went wacky, the visibility, which wasn't good to begin with, became extremely limited. Then Verity, and me I admit it, panicked."

"You don't sound panicked."

"I recovered. Luckily, we had the light on the camera or we wouldn't have been able to see anything. After we stumbled about for a bit, we finally found a staircase going up. Not the way we wanted to go, but it was a way out of where we were. Anyway, it led to the attic and I was able to secure it."

"They probably have keys."

"I know that, Matthew, but this bad boy also has a manual slide lock which I didn't notice when we were up here last night. So our 'ghosts' will have a tough time getting past. However, they're giving it a really good try as we speak."

Jamie and Matthew exchanged a confused look before Matthew shouted up the obvious question.

"What's that mean?"

"It means it sounds like they're taking a battering ram to the door. I'm afraid it may come off the hinges any second now."

"That won't happen," Matthew assured him. "It's a solid core door, and they built them right a hundred years ago."

"Be that as it may, it isn't going to hold up indefinitely."

"Boy's got a point," the caretaker said in an aside to Jamie, causing her concern level to go up dramatically.

"How's Verity doing?" Jamie asked Scott.

"She's okay, scared, but okay," Scott answered, but something in his voice made Jamie suspect that he was being optimistic with that report. "She was trying to 'commune with the spirits', but she gave that up when the noises started, and then decided that she really didn't want to hear from them after all. Now she's hiding in a corner. Not that I blame her, once the walls started oozing green slime . . ."

"The walls are oozing what?"

Matthew smiled at Jamie's objection. Scott sounded aggravated.

"Professor, you've got to stop killing the dramatic effect. I wasn't being literal, they aren't oozing, but they sure are making a heck of a lot of noise. That is, by the way, only getting worse. Nothing useful for the camera though, so it's kind of a waste."

Jamie closed her eyes and took a cleansing breath. Scott was such a . . . man.

"Watson, will you forget about the camera!"

"To tell you the truth, Professor, that won't be that hard. In fact it's becoming a bit concerning that whoever or whatever is on the other side of the door seems intent on breaking it down. Solid core or not."

"Is he always like this?" Matthew asked Jamie.

Jamie put her hands on her hips and gave an irritated sigh.

"I haven't known him that long, but yes, I think he is. Pity me."

"You're not the one who needs it. Bravado and recklessness isn't a safe combination. That boy needs praying for."

"I agree with you, but what do we do right now? Lissy and Shane have managed to overcome whatever technical difficulties they were having previously. If we could just turn off the power or something."

"That's easier said than . . . omagosh."

Jamie's head turned sharply towards her companion at his 'ah-ha' exclamation.

"What?"

"I'll be right back."

Without explaining himself further, the old man turned and began to hobble away as fast as he could.

"Matthew! Where are you going?"

The man didn't answer her, and then her attention was diverted as Scott called down to her, and he scared her. Mostly because he seemed much more concerned than he'd been just a few seconds before.

"Not to belabor the point here, but our door-pounder is getting a little insistent."

"Hold on Watson," she shouted up trying to sound reassuring. "Matthew has an idea."

"What?"

"I don't know exactly."

"That isn't very comforting, Professor."

At those words, Scott stopped and looked back into the room. He called down, "Just a minute," before disappearing inside.

After what seemed to be a very long time, but was in reality little over a minute, Jamie called up, "Scott? Watson, are you okay?"

Finally, she received a reply, but not the one she expected.

Scott came rushing out of the front door with a terrified Verity in tow.

## Chapter 18

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Scott smiled at the concern in his partner's voice. It amused him because it was the same tone of voice his mother had used when he hurt himself. Being a normal, active boy, he was quite familiar with it.

Like her, it was taking some effort to reassure Jamie. So he put his hands on her shoulders, looked into her eyes and stated firmly, "For the hundredth time, yes. I appreciate your concern, Professor, really I do, but look. I'm all in one piece. No damage done. I'm not so sure about poor Verity though."

They both looked over to Verity who was seated on a chair they'd moved from the porch a little away from the house. She'd been there for several minutes, obviously still very frightened.

Apparently, the reality of ghostly activity was not proving to be as attractive as the theory.

"Not that I blame her. Aside from the door concerns, there was loud noise going on everywhere. It made it impossible for me to talk to Verity. Do you remember those vents?"

Jamie nodded and answered, "Yes."

Scott closed his eyes and shook his head at the memory.

"I'm not sure that our 'ghosts' knew about them, but their noises came through them loud and clear, giving the illusion that they were coming from everywhere at once. Very effective. It was like being trapped in the middle of whatever Ghosts 'R Us soundtrack they were using."

Jamie's eyes widened as she realized just how unpleasant that must have been for poor Verity and Scott.

"I don't envy you, it was loud enough out here. Tell me, was it what it sounded like? I heard a lot of moaning and rattling chains."

Scott rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right out of the haunted house greatest hits. You must have missed the disembodied voices commanding Verity to divest herself of the 'evil' wealth left to her by her 'evil' ancestor. If I hadn't been so distracted by all the confusion, I would have laughed."

"Really? They were that blatant?"

"I guess they figured it didn't matter what I believed as long as they convinced Verity. Still, in my professional journalistic opinion, those two have been watching way too many Saturday afternoon matinee thrillers."

Jamie couldn't help herself, she laughed, which made Scott laugh. They both stopped guiltily when they saw the incredulous look Verity gave them.

"Poor Verity, she fell for it all hook, line, and sinker just like you were afraid she would. Maybe you were right and we should have told her the truth. It's hard to see someone that scared and not be able to help them. Not that I think I could have made her feel better even if she could hear me. Still, I think she's been cured of wanting to experience any ghostly encounters in the near future."

Jamie looked back to the other woman and agreed, "I know. So what happened after that?"

"Nothing."

Jamie waited for more, but when it became apparent that more wasn't coming she asked, "Nothing? What do you mean nothing?"

"I mean nothing. Just everything stopped and there was silence. Then I heard whoever was banging on the door scuttle away. After a bit, I got the nerve to open it up and all I saw was an empty hallway. At first I thought it could be a trick to lure us out, but I decided to take a chance, grabbed Verity's hand and we were out of there. Without all of the noise confusing things, and my trusty camera light, our escape was fairly straightforward. By the way, why was the front door unlocked, but the shutters didn't open?"

"I don't know, I guess they only rigged them to close and lock. You did have to open the door . . ."

She was interrupted as history repeated itself. The front door, which no one had bothered to close, unexpectedly slammed shut again, causing everyone to react.

Jamie and Scott took a step back, while Verity bounded out of her chair and seemed prepared to make a run for it.

"What's happening? Is it the spirits again?"

"Told you so," Scott whispered to Jamie in amusement.

Jamie shot him a reproving look before calling back reassuringly, "No, Verity, it isn't spirits, I think it's Matthew."

Miss Loren looked shocked by that bit of information.

"My caretaker? But what does he have to do with any of this?"

As if to answer that question, Matthew came around the corner.

"Matthew, what's going on?"

The old man's gruff manner immediately softened at his employer's plaintive question.

"I'll explain it all to you, Miss Verity, I promise. But for now you just sit back down. You've had quite a scare."

Like a little girl, Verity merely nodded and obeyed him.

Matthew shook his head sorrowfully and came over to the NLBN team.

"What did you do?" Jamie asked quietly so Verity couldn't hear them.

"I ran with your idea, Jamie. I turned off the master power to the house. That's what shut down the ghosts and let Scott and Verity escape."

"So why did the house close up again?" Scott asked.

"I turned it back on."

Scott crossed his arms, becoming irritated by this lack of information in the answers to his questions.

"Why?"

"To catch our ghosts, of course! You sure you're okay? You don't seem to be catching on too quick here. I guess nothing really changes for you Watsons."

Scott was already annoyed by Matthew constantly calling him Watson. He didn't mind when Jamie did it because . . . well he didn't. However, now that his mental competence was being questioned as well, he was also feeling far from friendly. Fortunately for future relations, Matthew moved on to a fuller explanation.

"Anyway, I caught them in the spare room in the basement."

The cameraman's irritation quickly turned to admiration, mixed with a little confusion.

"Uhhh . . . Matthew, can you tell us why the ghosts went down to the basement? I only ask because their target, Verity, was in the attic."

"Because Scott, once the power went out they had to go to the fuse box to get it back on. One of them could have stayed, and probably would have if Verity had been on her own. But with a heathy specimen such as yourself in the mix, they probably decided it was safer if they both went and hoped against hope that you and Verity would be too scared to try to escape."

"Hope against hope is right," Scott muttered.

"And going to the basement was not a good idea because?" Jamie prompted with a twinkle in her eyes.

Matthew was beginning to look downright amused, or at least as amused as he ever looked.

"The basement isn't the problem. You see, the fuse box was in a small, separated room down there, but due to the remodel, and a small flood, it had to be rewired to another part of the house."

"Another part of the house?" Scott objected. "The house was locked up! How did you get to it?"

"Because it's still in the basement, just not in that room."

"So why didn't the ghosts go to the real fuse box?"

"I guess they would have, Scott, if they'd known about it being moved."

"And why didn't they know about it?"

This time Matthew did smile at Jamie's gentle question.

"They didn't know because I never told them. You see, the contractor told me, but I forgot to mention it to anyone else."

"Forgot?"

The old caretaker looked astonishingly innocent as he answered, "Well, I'm old Jamie. I do forget things sometime, but why would they be interested, or need to know about a relocated fuse box? And if so, why didn't they just ask? Unless, that is, they didn't want to say."

"Matthew," Scott said admiringly, "you're a man of unusual humor. So, how are the ghosts doing? I imagine that they must be a tad upset at this point."

Matthew rolled his eyes at the understatement.

"Screaming bloody murder is what they're doing, and no doubt feeling a little conspicuous in their florescent ghost garb. They've got some grayish makeup on too which looks more strange than frightening when you see them in the light of day. Maybe they had a black light set up."

Scott gave a dismissive wave.

"If they did, it was wasted. Once Verity and I were in the attic we weren't coming out. Shane must be a quick change artist . . ."

However, before he could expand on his thought, Jamie's cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

It was their boss.

"Jamie?"

"Mr. Dante . . . I mean Leo? Thank goodness, everything just happened, but I'll tell you about that later. Right now we need to know what to do next. What did you find out?"

Leo was excited, which Jamie assumed was a good thing.

"Great stuff! I actually managed to get documented evidence of how your 'ghosts' were going to pull the whole thing off. Better, it's even illegal. This is going to give us killer ratings, or at least as killer as we can get."

"Leo," Jamie said getting him back on point. "We won't have any ratings at all if you don't tell me what this was all about."

"Weren't you the one who told me?"

"Yes, but as someone pointed out to me recently, knowing and proving are two different things."

Her boss was quick to reassure her.

"No worries there, Jamie. I've already spoken to the local authorities, and faxed the evidence to them. They should be up there posthaste to make the proper arrests, and have promised you an exclusive. Listen close, this is going to be good . . ."

## Chapter 19

"It was a joke," Lissy was insisting desperately a short time later. She and her accomplice were in handcuffs, and being escorted towards the law enforcement squad cars in their full ghostly gear.

It would make for quite the mug shot.

"A joke?" Jamie questioned into her microphone as Scott filmed behind her. "Really now? You work up a scam against your own sister to convince her that the spirits of the house want her to divest herself of her entire inheritance into a fake charity that you control under an assumed name? In case you don't know, that's called conspiracy to commit fraud, and is highly illegal in the State of California."

From behind the camera, Scott smiled as he taped the entire event. _This was way better than ghosts,_ he thought. Although he wasn't going to admit that to Jamie.

"How did you find out about that? I mean . . . I would never . . ."

Shane snapped, "Woman will you shut up? You're practically giving them a video confession."

"Don't you talk to me like that!"

At that point they were pulled down the hill, continuing to argue all the way as they were placed into separate cars and driven away.

As Leo had promised, the sheriff agreed to be interviewed after he finished booking his two suspects.

"Ooh, not so prim and proper now is she?" Scott said to Jamie as he stopped filming when the squad car was out of sight. "I still don't get who they were supposed to be, though. What do you think? George and Nora?"

Jamie lowered her microphone and gave a shrug.

"Or two of George's so-called victims, or at least as they appeared in the website fantasy. Remember, George was a good guy in reality. So who do you think will rollover on who first? Personally, my money is on Shane. According to Leo, it turns out he has quite the criminal record. That means he understands the justice system much better than Lissy."

Matthew Jones came out of the house as she said that and offered his own opinion.

"Lissy is more devious than you think, don't underestimate her."

"You know her better than we do, so I won't argue that. Still, Jamie may be right. Shane's young and probably doesn't want to go back to jail. I bet he didn't bargain for this getting so messy. My guess is he was out for an easy meal ticket by marrying Lissy. After they'd defrauded her sister. Where's Verity anyway?"

"In her room," Jamie explained. "This has all been very distressing for her."

Scott gave a sympathetic sigh.

"I can't say as I blame her. Finding out that Shane, who she was trying to help as a favor to Lissy, was trying to rob her blind is bad enough. But to find out that her sister was the mastermind behind it? That would be a lot for anyone to take."

"I'll talk to her before I go."

Jamie knew that Matthew meant that he wanted to try sharing Christ with her again. She hoped the outcome would be better this time. To use Matthew's words, the woman needed praying for.

Scott broke into her thoughts, saying, "Back to our two 'spirits'. I hope the DA doesn't let them make a deal to get off the hook completely. If anyone deserves jail time it's those two."

Matthew looked amused at the suggestion.

"Wilson O'Malley? Well, Lissy can try her little put-on ingénue act with him, but Wilson is an old-fashioned prosecutor who believes in old-fashioned justice. Besides, people around these parts know all about her from her granddad. I also doubt that Shane will make a very sympathetic figure."

"One thing I still don't get," Scott complained. "Why did they bring us here? You'd think it would have worked to Lissy' advantage to keep Verity as isolated as she could. A TV show on site, even one as obscure as ours, would tend to bring attention to the place. Isn't attention bad for a scam as complicated, albeit amateurish, as this one was?"

"You know, I think that Matthew had it right all along."

"I did?"

Matthew looked surprised as he tried to recall what Jamie said he'd been right about.

"Yes, remember you told me that Lissy brought us here to keep Verity happy. Of course, her plan went off track when I, a true skeptic, showed up instead of Charles . . ."

". . . and being a bit too smart," Scott put in.

"Thank you, although Leo was the real hero coming up with the fake charity information."

"Leo? Hero? Don't let him hear you say that, Jamie, or he'll never let it go."

However, Matthew still didn't understand the point she'd just made.

"Wait, Jamie, why was the charity so important?"

"You told us about that too, Matthew. Remember? That was the one provision in her grandfather's will that Lissy could exploit. Verity could give as much as she liked to charity. All Lissy had to do was make her counterfeit organization look good enough to fool the executor. According to Leo, she'd done a good job of it, unless you took the time to look beyond the facade. The executor might have figured it out, but I think Lissy was counting on his not bothering."

Matthew nodded and conceded, "She might have been right there. The executor, who's the senior partner of the law firm who represented Peter, is an honest man. He'd have tried to look after Verity, but he's always had a soft spot for Lissy. Always thought she could be redeemed. She could of course, if she were willing. Unfortunately, right now, she isn't willing."

Scott did not understand why both Matthew and Jamie suddenly looked so sad. These Christians, he decided, did not know how to accept victory gracefully. So he broke their contemplations.

"I still don't understand why Lissy had to make everything so nasty. I mean, I know the will kept Verity from giving her sister money outright, but according to Matthew, Lissy could always twist Verity around her little finger. Why try to swindle her out of everything?"

"You also don't know Lissy," Matthew said. "I saw those girls grow up, and Lissy always had a problem with Verity."

"Why was that?" Jamie asked.

"Because she existed. Verity was born first. They had the same birthday so Lissy never got the attention she deserved. Everybody thought Verity was cuter than she was when they were kids. They have similar names. Take your pick. It wasn't all about money, you know. Lissy really hates her sister. It's not rational, but it's always been that way. So when the will was read . . ."

"It was just the last straw for Lissy."

"Exactly, Jamie. That was the main reason I hung around until everything got sorted out. Truth be told, I'm just glad that Lissy only wanted money. I was half afraid she was going for something more extreme."

The NLBN team looked astonished at the very idea. They'd both had problems with family members in the past, but such a thing as Matthew was suggesting would never have occurred to them.

Not noticing their reactions, Matthew continued, "Enough of that. Once you two have what you want I'll get back to my packing. My replacement will be coming in a few days to watch over the house. Verity has decided she's going to finish the repairs and then donate the house to the town. It's ugly, but historically ugly. Never saw that one coming."

"That should bring a nice tax write off."

"True enough, Jamie. Verity herself may not be too money wise, but her accountant is another story. Even the IRS fears that man."

"So you're really leaving?"

"I'm retiring, Scott. I stayed longer than I wanted to really, but I couldn't leave Verity in her sister's clutches. The poor woman has no idea of the relationship realities in her family. Lissy may have hated Verity, but Verity always loved Lissy. Strange, but true."

"Wait Matthew, I have a question. Why did everybody say you were obsessed with the place?"

Although Scott asked Matthew the question, it was his partner who answered.

"Not everybody, Watson. Just Lissy and Shane, remember? I think the original plan was to frame Matthew as their culprit, just in case their ghost story didn't take. Remember that conversation we picked up on? The old man being too hard to pin down?"

"A Plan B? A good idea seeing how inept they were at execution," Scott stated having some knowledge of the electronic intricacies involved. "But that's what they get for trying to pull off high tech deceptions in a house that's practically being gutted."

"Be glad that was the case. Things could have gotten a lot uglier if they'd been more astute. So Matthew, you're leaving? Where, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Not at all," the old man answered. "My daughter has been after me to move to Florida for some time now. She's expecting her second child, and I want to be there to make sure things don't get out of hand like they did with the Loren girls."

"Matthew, before you go, can we get our interview?"

"Sure thing, Jamie. Although I doubt anyone will be interested in anything an old man has to say."

"That," Scott comment as he raised his camera and Jamie got into position, "would depend on the old man."

## Chapter 20

After completing the interview with Matthew, Jamie and Scott taped their closing in front of the now debunked haunted house.

"So ends The Case of the Old Haunted House. The malevolent caretaker is a normal grandfather protecting his nice, albeit unwise, employer from her avaricious sister and her nefarious accomplice out to divest her of her inheritance. No haunted house, just a good-old gothic novel chock full of greed and deception. All of which means, dear viewers, that there was not a 'real' ghost to be found. So, shall we have better luck in our next adventure? All I can answer is, I can promise you the one, but not the other. This is Jamie Moriarty."

"Great closing," Scott said enthusiastically as he shut off his camera. "And the tag line is perfect. Where'd you get it?"

Jamie gave him an amused look and answered enigmatically, "I think I'll let you think on that. You know my methods, Watson."

That might have been true of Holmes's Watson, but Moriarty's Watson merely looked confused, which he covered by ignoring the response.

"You were right Professor, this turned out to be a good story after all."

"I think so," she responded as she put her microphone away in its case. "But will our viewers will be disappointed that there's no supernatural element involved?"

"Maybe, but they shouldn't be. Charles and I never came across anything this compelling. True, it wasn't mystical, but it'll do. Just one thing I don't get."

"Just one, my dear Watson?"

Scott smiled remembering how he'd struggled to follow her methods at times.

"For now. Why did you push this so hard? I mean, we know now that there was evil afoot, but you didn't at first, and you didn't come looking for a mystery. So why did you do it?"

Jamie didn't even hesitate in her response.

"Because I knew someone was lying, and there had to be a reason."

That statement caused him to look at her more closely. There was a grim determination about the way she said it that caused him to make a mental note.

Never lie to Jamie Moriarty.

"And that was important, why?"

"Because I didn't want someone else's life to be ruined by a lie."

Scott opened his mouth to pursue the topic, but just then his cell phone rang. He looked at the display and said, "It's Leo. Hey Leo, we're just wrapping up here."

"Good to hear it. So how did it go?" his boss asked.

"The bad guys have been taken off to jail, we're off to get our interviews done, and then we're heading home. Thanks for the info, by the way. You really helped to clear up a very murky situation."

"No problem. Just get back here. We need your footage so we can get it on the air as quick as possible. Then it's off to your next assignment. So, you still have reservations about your new partner?"

"I never said I had reservations," Scott denied.

Jamie, guessing the reason for that comment, crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

"I really didn't," he denied both to her and his boss.

"If you say so. Anyway, good work, both of you. Not in our usual line, but it will make for good TV. Still, you two had better watch out. Keep getting actual news stories and NLBN might be accused of being respectable."

Scott laughed, said his goodbyes, and disconnected the call. At Jamie's questioning look he explained, "Leo's afraid the station might become respectable if we keep coming up with actual news worthy stories."

"NLBN? Respectable? Don't misunderstand, I'm becoming very fond of my new place of employment, but wouldn't that cramp your . . . I mean our style?"

"Not to worry, Leo is dreaming. Come on, let's get done and get home. Our boss is anxious for us to be on our way to our next location. This story should be on the air within the next week."

"Isn't that a little fast? What about quality control?"

"Professor, this is NLBN we're talking about. We shoot, we edit, we air, and are off to out next, we hope, exciting adventure in a very short number of days. Quality control is a hope, not a guarantee."

"I guess I'll have to accept that. By the way where's our next 'adventure' located exactly?" Jamie asked.

"A small island off the California coast."

"Oh-kay. Why?"

Scott swung his camera strap over his shoulder and began to walk towards the Jeep calling over his shoulder, "Apparently, there are walking trees running about the place scaring everyone half to death. We're going to check them out."

Automatically Jamie began to follow him, then what he'd just said penetrated her brain. She stopped and thought about it. Was he kidding? He had to be kidding. Right?

"What?!" she called out before running after him.

## Note from the Author

I hope you found this story as enjoyable to read as I did to write. If so, please express your appreciation to your favorite book vendor by leaving a review. Your patronage is greatly appreciated.
