The Spite House(22)
“Um, you’re right. We didn’t think to bring clothes. Sorry, we weren’t expecting to get this invitation.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d extend it,” Eunice said. “But you’ve made an impression. If nothing else, I believe you’re sincere. You’re here to earn money, not just get it. Even if you change your mind after the walk-through, the offer to stay tonight stands. You came this far, you shouldn’t have to drive back today.”
“I appreciate that,” Eric said. “So you’re going with Lafonda? Just me and Dana in the spite house?”
Eunice came half an inch closer to smiling. “Mr. Ross, if I was comfortable at all with being in that house, I’d stay there myself instead of paying someone to do it for me.”
He was still a little light-headed from the buzz of knowing the job—the money—was there if he said yes to it. Nonetheless, he’d been sharp enough to see the red flag that Eunice just waved in front of him.
“Is it dangerous?” he said. “I’m bringing my girls in there with me. I should know if it’s even a little—”
“It’s fine,” Eunice said. “It just takes a certain amount of energy to deal with it. As spry as I feel some days, I’m under no delusion about my age and what I can take.”
“Understandable,” he said, hoping his skepticism hadn’t crept into his tone. “I guess, now that I’m really going to be doing this, I’m starting to wonder why nobody else worked out for you. I mean, this isn’t the first time you’ve tried this, is it?”
“You’re right, it’s not. But think of the story you just told me. Imagine the average person experiencing that. Some professed ‘ghost hunter’ who’s expecting to hear a few innocuous noises in the night that they’ll amplify later, when they’re adding shadows and editing their footage to make it seem like there was something there when there really wasn’t. That’s what the people who I’ve hired before went in expecting, and when they encounter something even close to what you did, they panic. They don’t analyze whether it’s an echo or a spirit or anything. They run away. I’ve had so-called experts and researchers leave after the first shadow they thought they saw or first whisper they thought they heard. I’ve had others stay a day or two longer, but they all leave far too early to give me anything solid. I’m of the belief now that you won’t. And if you’re worried about your girls, we can discuss those details later. Suffice to say, they’ll always be welcome in my house if you’re comfortable with that. Although I’m confident it won’t come to that. I know something is in that house, but I don’t have any reason to believe it’s hostile.”
Her assurance sounded rehearsed to him, but he didn’t think that necessarily made it disingenuous. He’d been on the other side of the desk in job interviews before and he’d had prepared statements on those occasions. They hadn’t been half-truths just because they’d been written or practiced. He should give Eunice the same benefit of the doubt.
Except he sensed she was keeping something from him. To be fair, he was keeping things from her as well, but being fair wasn’t close to a priority for him. There was an imbalance of power here as it was. She could move on to another candidate, even if they were less ideal than he was, far more easily than he could move on to the next eccentric millionaire willing to part with a small fortune. That made this opportunity too good to let a little suspicion obstruct his path to it. And he’d kept Dess and Stacy safe so far, hadn’t he? Kept them protected from real-world threats. He could do the same when it came to otherworldly ones, especially considering he had recent reason to believe that the dead meant no harm, irrespective of his doubts about that.
“Well then,” he said, “as long as the walls don’t start bleeding or something on this first visit, I’m letting you know now that I accept.”
Eunice said, “Considering nothing like that’s happened yet, if it does now then I’m going to think it was in response to you. And if that’s the case, I’ll be more than happy to increase my offer enough to change a ‘no’ to a ‘yes.’”
CHAPTER 8
Dana
The first floor of the Masson House—the spite house—was effectively one long corridor, nine feet wide, barely over seven feet from floor to ceiling. A spiral staircase waited at the far end. A compact sofa, a small, padded chair, and an end table lined the wall opposite the windows, further thinning the walking space. A few framed floral paintings filled out the décor.
“This isn’t impossible,” Eric said. “We can make this work.”
She took him upstairs. The kitchen, with its refrigerator, its two-burner stove and half-sized oven, occupied half of the second floor.
“Newer appliances,” Eric said, gesturing toward the oven.
Dana said, “As much as we’d have preferred to keep the originals, it was determined the safety hazard wasn’t worth the risk. The entire house was rewired as carefully as possible once Miss Houghton started seeking tenants.”
There was a pantry beside the refrigerator. Three shelves, not very deep. Past the pantry, behind a closed door, was a compact laundry room furnished with a stacked washer-and-dryer unit.