lady,” said Dalton when she opened the door.
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she just backed up and beckoned him in.
He walked in, glanced around for a moment, and noticed the papers on the dining room table. “Are those the papers you were talking about?”
“Not really, those are just newspaper clippings and such from the historical society.”
Dalton nodded. “Ah yes. Mrs. Gray.” He wandered into the dining room and took a look. “The legends of the haunted house, huh? Has more been happening than just that scream?”
Chelsea hesitated before talking. “Yes. There are moans at night. The doorway to my office once slammed shut of its own accord. There’s a strange whistling sometimes, coming from the attic. And stuff—well, it appears in places I didn’t leave it.”
Dalton chuckled. “Huh. I mislay stuff some—er, how strange. Moans, you say? And stuff.” She wasn’t sure whether he was paying more attention to the clippings or what he was saying. “What kind of stuff?” he asked.
There was no way she was going to tell him about the dildo appearing in her bed. “Little things. Come upstairs, I’ll show you the chests.”
“Sure.”
Trent had the chest down already when they got there and had hauled it into the office. She’d moved her laptop and the scanner back there as well. It probably was a better place to work than her bedroom. They’d go through the new chest if it was interesting enough; the chests were heavy, and even with the books taken out of the one, she hadn’t felt like moving one. She was also a little worried that the stack of papers would fall over, causing damage to them, if she tried to move it. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be reading Amelia’s adventures in front of the two men.
With both men watching, she slipped the key in the lock. They might only have the one to work with anyway, if this one needed a different key. The two looked the same, but that didn’t mean the locks were the same. She jiggled the key in the lock before she managed to get it to click open.
Like the first chest, this one contained two stacks, with books on the one side stacked either next to one another or on top to allow the maximum number to fit. There were papers on the other side, and slightly farther down envelopes that were a bit larger than the individual sheets.
On the top page the words THE END were written in script even more flowery than usual in large letters. Another novel? The handwriting of the few lines written above the end were in the same script as the one she had presumed written by Minerva, although they were tame by comparison, describing a wealthy and happily married woman. Chelsea chuckled to herself. She’d read them actually hoping for a touch of the erotic and was strangely disappointed. On the other hand, it could make it a lot easier to work with Dalton and Trent if the material wasn’t too salacious.
“Here’s the procedure, gentlemen,” she said. “We all need to have clean and dry hands, so we’ll wash up first. One of you takes a page from the box and slides it into a plastic sleeve, then takes it to the scanner and presses the button. The other sits at the scanner and flips it over when it’s ready, pushes the button to scan that side, and then stacks it up neatly in this box here.” The box had contained clothes she’d brought from Falls Church, but it was about the right size to hold two stacks of sleeved sheets. “I’ll be watching the scans on the computer to make sure they’re coming out legibly; we may have to do some over.”
“Sounds good,” said Dalton. “I’ll do the sleeving.”
Trent shrugged. “Sure. I can stack.”
She noticed neither of them looked at each other. What was the bad blood between these two?
“We’ll switch after a while. If one of you ends up waiting for the other because the tasks don’t take up quite the same amount of time, take the books out, and check for the title, author,
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she just backed up and beckoned him in.
He walked in, glanced around for a moment, and noticed the papers on the dining room table. “Are those the papers you were talking about?”
“Not really, those are just newspaper clippings and such from the historical society.”
Dalton nodded. “Ah yes. Mrs. Gray.” He wandered into the dining room and took a look. “The legends of the haunted house, huh? Has more been happening than just that scream?”
Chelsea hesitated before talking. “Yes. There are moans at night. The doorway to my office once slammed shut of its own accord. There’s a strange whistling sometimes, coming from the attic. And stuff—well, it appears in places I didn’t leave it.”
Dalton chuckled. “Huh. I mislay stuff some—er, how strange. Moans, you say? And stuff.” She wasn’t sure whether he was paying more attention to the clippings or what he was saying. “What kind of stuff?” he asked.
There was no way she was going to tell him about the dildo appearing in her bed. “Little things. Come upstairs, I’ll show you the chests.”
“Sure.”
Trent had the chest down already when they got there and had hauled it into the office. She’d moved her laptop and the scanner back there as well. It probably was a better place to work than her bedroom. They’d go through the new chest if it was interesting enough; the chests were heavy, and even with the books taken out of the one, she hadn’t felt like moving one. She was also a little worried that the stack of papers would fall over, causing damage to them, if she tried to move it. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be reading Amelia’s adventures in front of the two men.
With both men watching, she slipped the key in the lock. They might only have the one to work with anyway, if this one needed a different key. The two looked the same, but that didn’t mean the locks were the same. She jiggled the key in the lock before she managed to get it to click open.
Like the first chest, this one contained two stacks, with books on the one side stacked either next to one another or on top to allow the maximum number to fit. There were papers on the other side, and slightly farther down envelopes that were a bit larger than the individual sheets.
On the top page the words THE END were written in script even more flowery than usual in large letters. Another novel? The handwriting of the few lines written above the end were in the same script as the one she had presumed written by Minerva, although they were tame by comparison, describing a wealthy and happily married woman. Chelsea chuckled to herself. She’d read them actually hoping for a touch of the erotic and was strangely disappointed. On the other hand, it could make it a lot easier to work with Dalton and Trent if the material wasn’t too salacious.
“Here’s the procedure, gentlemen,” she said. “We all need to have clean and dry hands, so we’ll wash up first. One of you takes a page from the box and slides it into a plastic sleeve, then takes it to the scanner and presses the button. The other sits at the scanner and flips it over when it’s ready, pushes the button to scan that side, and then stacks it up neatly in this box here.” The box had contained clothes she’d brought from Falls Church, but it was about the right size to hold two stacks of sleeved sheets. “I’ll be watching the scans on the computer to make sure they’re coming out legibly; we may have to do some over.”
“Sounds good,” said Dalton. “I’ll do the sleeving.”
Trent shrugged. “Sure. I can stack.”
She noticed neither of them looked at each other. What was the bad blood between these two?
“We’ll switch after a while. If one of you ends up waiting for the other because the tasks don’t take up quite the same amount of time, take the books out, and check for the title, author,
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