Navy Seal's Match. Amber Leigh Williams

first theory’s more likely,” Mavis murmured. “I don’t see a ménage à trois happening in the grand master suite.”

      “People back then were no different from people today,” Zelda informed her. “There was scandal. And secrets aplenty. Besides, I like the idea of the servant girl getting her own.”

      “Was this voice you heard on the tapes by chance female?” Gavin asked.

      “Why, yes,” Zelda said, glad he was catching on.

      “So you think it was the kitchen girl,” he surmised.

      “It’s a sound theory,” Zelda said. “One Mavis, Phyllis and I are in agreeance on. But what’s most interesting is that she spoke two names. The first in what remained of the living quarters above stairs. Josiah.”

      “And the second in the chamber Phyllis told us about behind the servants’ stairwell. Daniel,” Mavis added. “That’s where the family claims most activity has occurred throughout the years.”

      Gavin scraped what remained of his soup from the sides of his bowl, mulling the information. “Did this baby and its mother wind up reaping the estate benefits and carrying on the line?”

      Zelda laughed. For once, it didn’t ring true. “Hell, no, she didn’t. Cousins came in, Phyllis’s ancestors, and turned the place over. The servants were dismissed and nothing was heard of the girl or her baby. The place wasn’t fit for living for another whole generation. The cousins eventually gave it up cold turkey.”

      “Phyllis’s grandfather eventually inherited the mess and decided to rebuild most everything from the ground up,” Mavis told him. “It took years because workmen kept walking off, claiming they felt a tap on the shoulder or they could hear whispering when they were alone.”

      “Phyllis’s first encounter herself was in the chamber behind the servants’ stairs,” Zelda divulged. “She was playing hide-and-seek with friends from grammar school. She was alone in the dark, but someone brushed the hair from her face. She lit outta there like someone had planted live firecrackers in her saddle shoes.”

      Gavin sniffed. “And which of you ladies volunteered to take your recorder into the servants’ stairwell?”

      “Oh, that was Mavis,” Zelda replied. “She usually volunteers for the tight spots. Attics. Basements. Crawl spaces. You name it, our Mavis is there.”

      “That’s great,” Gavin said. He downed half his water before letting the glass clack against the counter next to his empty bowl. “Does your family know about this?”

      “Did yours know anything about your combat injury for six months after it happened?” she responded in kind. “I didn’t think you were judgmental, Gavin. And I didn’t think you believed in this stuff anyway, much less cared.”

      “I’m having trouble with the belief thing,” he admitted. “But I never said anything about not caring.”

      “If you don’t believe, why’s it necessary to care?” Mavis asked. “It’s all just a racket. Right?”

      “It’s big creepy houses that belong to strange people,” he told her. “Sure, Zelda’s friend Phyllis might be all right, but her family home sounds like it’s been a meal for more generations of termite colonies than you can trace. How carefully do you screen callers before showing up? It’s just the two of you? No muscle?”

      “Well, Errol,” Zelda said. “He likes the country drives.”

      “How old is this Errol?” Gavin wanted to know. When neither of them answered, he scowled. “Uh-huh.”

      “Our screening process is thorough enough,” Mavis explained. Her tone had grown taut from irritation. “You can’t tell us that the process we’ve operated under for the last five years isn’t up to standard. Who do you think you are?”

      “I’m a goddamn navy SEAL,” Gavin told her. “I think I know a sight more about the ugly parts of humanity than you do.”

      “Try me,” she invited.

      “Don’t tell him about that meth lab two weeks ago,” Zelda suggested. “He’ll blow a gasket.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He groaned. The slow-roasting coals were growing in temperature. “Did you know they were cooking meth?”

      “They didn’t announce it,” Mavis responded.

      “They weren’t hiding it, either,” Zelda noted. “They were nice boys. If you like mullets and missing teeth.”

      “These are drug dealers we’re talking about,” Gavin said. “Drug dealers.”

      Mavis rolled her eyes when he slowed the words down to mocking speed the second time. “Yeah, we got that.”

      “But we scored,” Zelda said. “EMF and confirmed audio.”

      “Wait,” Gavin said. “You walked in, saw what they were doing and you went ahead and did the job anyway?”

      “Well, sure,” Zelda answered readily. When he cursed a stream and mashed two fingers against his temple, muttering disbelief, Zelda added, “You think we’re simpletons? You think we don’t know to arm ourselves with more than curiosity and flashlights? You’ve known her a long time, handsome. You really think Mavis is crazy?”

      “I’m starting to,” he said. At the sound of books closing again, he reached out for Mavis. He closed his fingers around the back of her hand to stop her from scooting off. “Drug dealers, Freckles,” he reiterated. “Drug. Dealers.”

      “One of them hit on her,” Zelda revealed, uncovering the mischievous streak Gavin thought he’d gleaned earlier.

      Exasperated, Mavis slid from his grip and off her stool with books under her arm. “I’m so glad you two are living together, because you deserve each other. Night-night.”

      “I have an idea,” Zelda announced, stopping Gavin from reaching for Mavis again and preventing Mavis from retreating. “You’re going to like this, the both of you.”

      “Aren’t we optimistic?” Gavin said.

      Zelda went on. “Why doesn’t Gavin accompany us this Saturday...?”

      “What’s this Saturday?” he wondered.

      “Fieldwork,” Mavis muttered. “For our next case.”

      Gavin felt a stone drop in his stomach. It sank to the bottom and spread cold everywhere. “I don’t think so.”

      “Oh, why not?” Zelda asked hopefully. “You’d get an idea of what we do. He’d enjoy our approach at least, I think, Mavis. Tell him!”

      “Every job we take,” Mavis said dutifully, “we approach as skeptics. Our main focus is debunking claims of paranormal activity. It takes up the bulk of what we do.”

      “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said dully.

      “Come on, handsome,” Zelda said. “There’s nothing worse for the mind than confining oneself to the indoors. It’ll make you crazier than a holy roller on Sunday. The cure is fresh air and the outdoors.”

      “With all due respect, ma’am,” Gavin said coldly, “I’m not going anywhere.” He lifted his hands from the counter. “Excuse me.”

      He sidestepped Prometheus, nearly overcompensated and leaned unintentionally into Mavis. When he felt her hand on his arm for balance, he straightened, veered around her and made a quick exit.

      Not quick enough to miss Zelda utter, confounded, “He called me ma’am again. I’m not sure I deserved it.”

       CHAPTER FOUR

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