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 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 filled in. "I'm the producer."
"Is the host . . ." The guy glanced at his lady friend. "Is she here, too?"
"Sure is. You want to meet Holly?"
The guy put down the suitcase he was carrying to tuck in his polo shirt a little more tightly. "Yeah, could I?"
"We were just leaving," his other half interjected. "Weren't we. Dan."
"But if I--we--have the chance to--"
"Get on the road now, we'll be home by nightfall." She turned to the butler. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Griffin. We've had a lovely stay."
The butler bowed with grace. "Please do come again, madam."
"Oh, we will--this is going to be a perfect place for our wedding in September. It's incredible."
"Just amazing," her fiance tacked on, like he wanted to be back on her good side.
Gregg didn't push the meet-and-greet with Holly as the pair went out the front door--even though the guy paused and looked over as if he were hoping Gregg would follow them.
"So I'll just go get our bags," Gregg said to the bulter. "And you can get our room ready, Mr. Griffin."
The air around the man seemed to warp. "We have two rooms."
"That's fine. And because I can tell you're a man with standards, me and Stan will bunk together. For propriety's sake."
The butler's brows lifted. "Indeed. If you and your friends would be good enough to wait in the drawing room to your right, I shall have the housekeepers ready your accommodations."
"Fantastic." Gregg clapped the man on the shoulder. "You won't even know we're here."
The butler pointedly stepped back. "A word of caution, if I may."
"Hit me."
"Do not go up to the third floor."
Well, wasn't that an invitation . . . and a line right out of a Scream movie. "Absolutely not. I swear to it."
The butler went off down the hall and Gregg leaned out of the front door, motioning for his crew. As Holly got out, her double-Ds bounced under the black T-shirt she was wearing, and her Sevens were so low-cut her flat, tanned belly flashed. He'd hired her not for her brains, but for her Barbie dimensions, and yet she'd proven to be more than he'd expected. Like a lot of dummies, she wasn't completely stupid, just largely so, and she had an eerie ability to position herself where it would most suit her advancement.