Gramps.â
âYes,â Graham said fondly. âIâve got you, child.â
Susan looked at JC challengingly. âIs that your high tech piled up there? I know state-of-the-art shit when I see it. You really think you can measure ghosts, weigh ghosts, pin them down, and open them up?â
âSometimes,â said Melody.
Susan glared at her. âWho did you say you work for?â
âWeâre official,â said JC. âIâd leave it at that if I were you.â
âThis is our haunting!â Susan said stubbornly. âWe were here first!â
âYou canât stake a claim on a spirit, child,â said Graham. âWe heard things, Mr. Chance. People tell stories . . . and I heard more than enough to convince me there was something out here worth investigating. We might only be amateur ghost hunters, but I do have experience in this field. I am here to offer help and guidance to any lost spirits who might be . . . held here, for any reason. Help them realise that theyâre dead, but there is a better place waiting for them. Show them the peace and the protection of the Clear White Light.â
âAmateur night,â growled Melody. âAll we need.â
âQuiet at the back,â said JC. âBut the rude lady does have a point, Iâm afraid, Mr. Tiley. It really isnât safe here. You should leave.â
âYoung man,â Graham said sternly, âI have cleared seventeen unhappy places and left them calm and peaceful, untroubled by any unquiet spirit. I know what Iâm doing. I intend to make contact with whatever troubled soul resides here. You are welcome to stay and help if you wish.â
âHelp, not interfere,â said Susan. âNo-one messes with my gramps, not while Iâm around.â
âAnd what is it you intend to do?â said JC. âIâd really like to know.â
Tiley glared at him suspiciously, not entirely sure he was being taken seriously. âI have my own tried and trusted methods. I shall be about them. You and your colleagues can do as you please!â
And he stomped off into the dark interior of the factory, holding his storm lantern out before him, a pool of golden light advancing into the darkness. Susan looked after him, not sure whether he wanted her company. She scowled at JC.
âOfficial . . . What kind of official? Youâre not the police.â
âHeaven forfend,â said JC. âLetâs just say weâre professionals. We have a lot of experience in this field, enough to know that whatâs happening here isnât an ordinary haunting. Albert Winter didnât just happen to die in this place. Something lured him in here, then took its own sweet time killing him. And whatever did that is still here.â
Susan shuddered suddenly, despite herself. She could hear the truth in JCâs calm voice. She looked over at her grandfather. âGramps took up ghost-hunting as a hobby when he retired. Something to keep him occupied . . . But after Grandma Lily died last year, heâs been taking it all a lot more seriously.â
âAm I to take it that youâre not a believer?â said JC.
Susan snorted loudly, looking him over scornfully. âOf course not! Iâm here to keep him company and see he doesnât get into any trouble. Iâve watched his back on a dozen cleansings and never seen or heard a thing. Itâs all empty rooms, shadows in the corners, and plumbing rattling in the walls. You know a lot about the killing; you sure youâre not some kind of police?â
âHow can I be sure, let me count the ways,â murmured JC. âTrust me, Susan, there isnât a branch of the police that would accept any of us on a bet. Except perhaps as Bad Examples. But there was a murder here, and we are looking into it. We are concerned as to how it may have happened.â
They all looked round as Graham Tiley came striding