The Thrill of the Haunt by E. J. Copperman Page A

were conversing (arguing) or when Josh was around. Paul’s more tolerant of Josh than he’s been of some other men I’ve known (such as my ex, but he had a point there) since I moved into the Victorian, but if you ask me—and even if you don’t—Paul has some jealousy issues where my dating life is concerned. He doesn’t say anything, but his silences can be deafening. On the other hand, Maxie tends to either get a crush on guys I date or pull pranks on them to encourage them to leave. She had already mentioned that she thought Josh was cute, but she hadn’t made things fly by his face or tried to pull his shirt up from behind him.
    And you wonder why I don’t tell Josh about the ghosts in the house.
    “There’s no way I can tell you what to look for, because I can’t know what the scene looks like,” Paul explained. “Take your phone or a real camera, and get pictures that I can look at when you get back. But look for anything that seems unusual or incongruous.”
    “You might be surprised, but I’ve spent very little time in men’s restrooms,” I told him. “I might miss something ‘incongruous.’ ”
    Paul smiled. “Aside from the odd piece of equipment, I don’t think you’ll find it all that different from what you’re used to,” he said. “But I’ll look at the pictures in case there’s some secret thing only men will understand.” He has a sly wit. That wasn’t an example, but he does.
    “Okay, M,” I said. “What else am I assigned to do?”
    Paul’s face got serious (its usual state) again, and he thought. “Find out if there was a will.” He held up a hand. “I know, Everett was homeless and not exactly wealthy, but he still might have filed something before he got that way. See if his old Army records include anything.”
    “His life was different in those years,” I reminded Paul. “He had a wife, for one thing.”
    He nodded. “Yes. That will be an interesting thread to explore. Once Maxie gives us some results, we’ll know which direction to take it. In any event, we certainly want to know where Everett’s ex-wife is living now and whether they were in contact.”
    I saluted. “Okay, boss,” I said. “Now, do I need the cyanide pills for this one, or will the service revolver to the temple do the trick if I’m captured?”
    “You’re hilarious,” he said without smiling and vanished into the floor.
    It always makes me feel better to talk to Paul about these things. Most of what he tells me would probably occur to me independently but not until much later. And hearing it from someone who at least acts like he knows what he’s doing is very reassuring.
    I continued on to the kitchen, where my mother was already setting her stage. Mom has a real theatrical streak, and given that she was about to show off in front of her granddaughter, she was indulging it to unprecedented extremes. She had cleaned every countertop in the kitchen to a positive gleam (despite the fact that my complete lack of desire to cook meant they were virtually never made dirty). She had spread out ingredients for the massive lasagna she intended to make—pasta, ground beef, tomatoes, parmesan cheese for grating, ricotta cheese not for grating, and I couldn’t tell what else—in the exact order she would use them, and I’m pretty sure lined up perfectly as well. I didn’t have a level handy to check.
    Mom was, honest to goodness, sharpening a knife when I walked in, and Melissa, who apparently had finished her homework to the point that she could tell me so with a straight face, was watching her raptly.
    “Put some salt in the water when you cook pasta,” she was telling Liss. “Most people don’t because they think it’s bad for them, and their pasta doesn’t cook evenly.”
Most people
I assumed, included all the people in the room who were me.
    “What’s with the knife sharpening, Mom?” I asked as I walked in. “What part of lasagna needs to be chopped?”
    Mom, her spotlight