place.
While he waited, he checked to make sure Holly and Stan were where he'd left them. Backup was the last thing he needed when he was on what amounted to a sales call--especially when the hello-my-name-is was an unwelcome one. And the truth was, if they hadn't just been on an assignment up in Charleston, he might not have tried a face-to-face, but for a half-hour drive that wasn't even out of their way, it was worth the effort. They weren't due to start setup for the special in Atlanta for a couple of days, so there was time for this. More to the point, he would kill to-The door swung wide and he had to smile at what was on the other side. Man . . . it just kept getting better. The guy had English butler stamped all over him, from his shiny shoes to his black waistcoat and blazer.
"Good afternoon, sir." And he had an accent. Not quite British, not quite French--high-class European. "How may I help you?"
"Gregg Winn." He put out his hand. "I think I've called you a couple of times? Not sure you've gotten the messages." The butler's shake was fast. "Indeed."
Gregg waited for the man to continue. When there was nothing coming, he cleared his throat. "Ah . . . I was hoping you'd allow us to do some investigating of your lovely house and grounds. The Eliahu Rathboone legend is pretty remarkable, I mean . . . the reports from your guests are amazing. My team and I--"
"Permit me to interrupt. There will be no filming or recording on the premises--"
"We would pay."
80
"--at all." The butler smiled tightly. "I'm sure you can understand that we prefer our privacy."
"Quite frankly, I don't. What's the harm in allowing us to poke around?" Gregg dropped his voice and leaned in. "Unless, of course . . . you're making those footsteps yourself in the middle of the night? Or suspending a candle in that upstairs bedroom by fishing wire?" The butler's face didn't change, and yet he reeked of disdain. "I believe you were on your way."
Not a comment. Not a suggestion. A demand. But fuck that, Gregg had dealt with tougher stuff than some nancy in a penguin suit.
"You know, you must get a lot of traffic as a result of those haunting stories." Gregg lowered his voice even further. "Our TV audience is huge. If you think you're getting visitors now, imagine what it would do for your business if you went national. And even if you are cooking up the Rathboone stuff yourself, we can work with you, rather than against you. If you know what I mean."
The butler stepped back and began to close the door. "Good day, sir--" Gregg put his body in the way. Even if he hadn't wanted to check out the stories badly, the whole no thing just wasn't his bag. And as usual, getting shut out sharpened his interest like nothing else.
"We'd like to stay the night, then. We're doing workups on some of the neighboring Civil War sites and need a place to crash."
"I'm afraid we're full."
At that moment, like a gift from God, a couple came down the gracious stairway, their suitcases in hand. Gregg smiled as he looked over the butler's shoulder.
"Not as full as you were." Shifting through his deck of personality cards, he put forth his best I'm-going-to-be-no-trouble expression. "No is no, I get that. So we won't record anything, audio or video. Swear on my grandmother's life." Lifting his hand in greeting, he said loudly, "Hey, you guys--enjoy your stay?"
"Oh, my God, it was incredible!" the girlfriend, wife, casual lay, whatever said. "Eliahu is real!"
The boyfriend, husband, wanted-to-score nodded. "I didn't believe her. I mean, ghosts--come on. But yeah . . . I heard the thing."
"We saw the light, too. Have you heard about the light?" Gregg put his hand over his chest in shock. "No, what light? Tell me everything. . . ."
As they launched into a detailed recitation of all the "incredibly amazing things" that were so "incredible and amazing to witness" during 81
their "incredible . . . ," the butler's eyes narrowed into slits. Clearly, his manners overrode his urge to kill as he stepped aside to let Gregg meet up with the departing pair, but the temperature in the foyer had dropped into chilly land.
"Wait--is that . . ." The male guest frowned and leaned to the side.
"Holy crap, are you with that show--"
" Paranormal Investigators," Gregg