Chapter Nine

Martin watched from the door of the cabin as the ambulance departed down the drive, its strobe lights flashing brightly in the darkness. Claudia came back from the car, carrying a box of some kind under her arm. She pecked him on the cheek as she passed by into the cabin.

"There he goes again, off to hospital," he said, closing the door. He leaned against it. "The local health authority should issue Dave with a season ticket!"

Claudia sat on the edge of the bed, busy with the laptop. A pile of CD jewel cases were spread beside her on the covers, the empty file box lying on its side next to them. She looked up. "Perhaps they did; he seems to be their best customer around here. Come here!"

She waved him over, and he settled on the bed behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "What've you got there?"

"A collection of DVDs I liberated from Laurel's office. What with all the excitement in the restaurant and Dave's fall, I didn't get a chance to tell you."

He stiffened. "You took them from her office?"

"Yep." She glanced back. "Martin, don't get all pious on me. Laurel's up to something and we need to find out what. It may be connected with the spirit that attacked her." She frowned. "There's something else too. Remember when we were going to investigate, I couldn't find my bra?"

"Yes?"

"She knew where it was, but there's no way she could've seen it lying under the bed. It was too far out of sight."

He thought it over. "Okay, I'll grant you that. How would she have known?"

"I have a hunch she saw where it fell," she said, darkly.

"You mean she's been using the cameras to spy on the cabins?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Okay, this needs to be settled. Load one up and let's see what we've got. How did you get hold of these, anyway?"

"When Laurel asked you to dance, I saw the chance to slip away and nose around her office. It was unlocked when I got there; they don't seem that big on internal security around here.

"I looked around but couldn't find a VCR. Then I saw her PC had a DVD re-writer drive installed. If she's taking camera feed from somewhere, I knew she was likely to have some way of storing the images. There was a stack of blank DVDs alongside the PC." She patted the jewel cases. "I found these in a file box labeled 'Dave's Bonus.'"

"'Dave's Bonus?' How did you figure out they'd be in there?"

"It was on a shelf, tucked away in a corner. The rest of the boxes and the shelf they were on had a fine layer of dust on them; that box and the shelf in front of it was clean."

"Clever!" He pecked her on the cheek and she smiled. Although he was still uncomfortable about her unexpected display of theft, he loved the way she basked in his admiration.

"Okay, you've done the deed," he said, picking up a jewel case at random. "What have we got?" He opened the case and examined the surface of the disk. "This has nothing but a date written on it." He mentally adjusted for the US system of putting the number of the month before that of the day. "This was recorded two weeks ago."

She glanced at it, took the case from him, and slipped the disk into the drive in the lap-top. "Let's find out what's on it, shall we?"

Booting-up the video player program she clicked a few keys and worked the mouse-pad until the screen cleared and a moving picture came up.

"Damn!" He frowned. "It looks like this cabin."

"Not quite." She pointed. "The door through to the bathroom's in a different place."

"But it's still footage taken from a cabin, love."

"Yeah." She gave him a sideways glance and frowned. "I don't like the look of this; I wonder whose cabin she's bugging?"

He pointed at the screen. "The main door's opening!"

On the screen, Bruce Baker slipped through the door. "Joanne?" he called.

The sound quality was poor but they could hear her faint reply. "In here!"

He crossed to the bathroom door and opened it. Steam rolled into the bedroom and he stepped inside. Shadows moved in the cloud of steam.

Claudia leaned back against him and shook her head. "It looks like dear Laurel's gathered proof of Bruce's infidelity!"

"He may just be visiting her," he said reasonably.

She gave him a withering look. "Martin, look at the date-time display in the corner. It's eleven-fifteen at night." She pointed at a detail on the screen. "The bedside clock reads the same. No-one 'just visits' at that time of night!"

"Okay, granted, I was wrong—oh dear!"

Claudia whistled softly. "I'll say!"

On the screen Joanne had emerged naked from the bathroom, her hair wrapped up in a fluffy yellow towel, the tight brown knot of her pubic hair clear and sharp. Bruce was following close behind her—close behind her, his hands rolling her generous breasts back and forth as she walked.

"Do you think she looks a little…I don't know, indifferent?" Claudia asked with a lopsided smile.

"You're right; she doesn't seem that bothered about what Bruce is doing," he replied.

They watched enthralled as Joanne stopped by the bed and sat down upon the edge of it. Bruce stood before her, a broad grin on his face as he unbuckled his pants and let them fall. He followed them with his underpants.

"Oh, my!" they said in unison.

Claudia giggled. "Well, she may have been indifferent to what he was doing to her tits, but I can see that has made a different impression!"

"You're not wrong, darling! Christ, he's hung like a bloody horse!"

As Joanne smiled, clasped Bruce by the butt and lowered her head towards his cock, Martin reached across and stopped the playback.

Claudia pouted. "Aw, spoilsport! Why are you raining on the parade?"

He kissed her and held her close. "Because, sweetheart, there are a dozen jewel cases here. Taking a wild guess, I'd say they all follow the same theme, but not necessarily with the same cast."

"You mean Laurel may have recorded other folks in the act?" She slapped her head as soon as the words left her lips. "Doh! Of course; she's using a splitter box. There has to be more than one camera."

"So, let's load them up one by one, and see what we've got. I think we've uncovered something big."

She giggled. "I take it you're not just referring to Bruce?"

He wagged a finger at her and smiled. "Behave!"

Even sampling the DVDs for a few seconds of play each took the better part of an hour. They saw more shots of Joanne with Bruce; Greg with Donna; several un-named couples, mixed and same sex, who apparently had occupied two staff cabins over the course of three months. There were examples of man-on-man, woman-on-woman, threesomes, foursomes, bondage, S and M—and even one guy with an inflatable doll that reduced Claudia to helpless laughter when they watched the sequence.

The penultimate DVD wiped the smile off their faces.

"Shit! That's us!" she shouted.

The sequence ran in all its lascivious detail and they watched aghast. "Oh, bloody hell!" He worked out angles in his head. "I think we'd better find that hidden camera."

"Forget that for now!" She stabbed the off button with unnecessary force and turned to him. "Just let me get my hands on that Laurel!"

* * * *

Laurel looked up from her magazine as the knock sounded on her cabin door.

"Who is it?" she called, glancing at the clock. "It's after ten!"

A man's voice answered. "Laurel, we really need to talk."

"Martin?" Her heart gave an involuntary skip and she rolled out of bed. "Just a minute!"

Quickly she ran a brush through her hair and dabbed a little powder on her face. After a second's thought she dabbed some perfume behind her ears and between her breasts. After another second's thought, she untied her pajama trousers and dabbed more perfume on her pussy. It stung, and she winced and hopped a couple of times. "Ooh, shit!"

She examined herself in the mirror and gave her reflection a lopsided smile. "It'll have to do." Her pussy twitched at the prospect of a good night to come, and her smile broadened. "Okay, I'm coming!" she called gaily, and went to the door.

When she opened it, it was pushed back with considerable force and she was suddenly face-to-face with a very angry-looking Claudia. A handful of jewel cases were waved under her nose.

"What the hell is all this, Laurel?" the young woman demanded, pushing her back into the cabin.

She recognized the cases and felt the blood drain out of her face. "What're you doing with those? They were in my office! They're private property!"

"So are the lives of those you've filmed!" Claudia put a hand between her breasts and pushed her bodily onto the bed. "Including us, I may add!"

Martin came into the cabin and shut the door behind him. He turned a sad face to her. "Laurel, you've got some serious explaining to do!"

All the pep and bluster drained away from inside her, and left her feeling more depressed than she'd ever done. "I'm sorry!" she said in a moan. "We didn't mean any harm."

"Harm!" Claudia spat, and looked on the verge of exploding.

Martin laid a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. "Easy, dear. Let's talk this through."

"It was something Dave and I put together," Laurel said quickly, looking from one to the other. "He secretly installed the cameras in some of the cabins when he did maintenance work on them. We filmed the people strictly for our own use."

"You got more than just titillation out of these, Laurel," he said sternly. He drew a case from his pocket and held it up. "Remember Bruce and Joanne? If Ursula had got hold of this somehow, there'd be hell to pay. A divorce court would lap up this footage!"

"It wouldn't have happened!" She stood up, feeling the anger rising. "Do you think I was blackmailing them?"

"Seriously? No, we don't. They must still be having an affair; otherwise Joanne wouldn't have been giving Bruce a blow-job in his office tonight. They'd hardly give you more ammunition if you were blackmailing them."

"What?" she gasped.

"Never mind that!" Claudia shouted at her. "The point is, what the fuck did you think you were doing bugging our cabin?"

Martin cast an anxious glance from Claudia to the walls. "Claudia, keep it down a bit, love! The whole resort will know if you yell like that."

"I'm not sure I care!" She rounded on her and dug a fingertip into her chest. "You've been after Martin from the moment he got here. Well, he's mine, see? And you know it, you menopausal vampire!"

"How dare you!" She made to slap the young woman but Claudia deflected her hand easily and pushed her away.

"I dare because you dared!" She sneered. "The only way you could get to see my man's body was to bug the cabin!"

Hot tears sprang to Laurel's eyes and she sat down heavily on the bed again. "I'm sorry!" She spread her hands and looked at them imploringly. "You don't know what it's like, being in charge around here! I'm on this fucking site twenty-four-seven. I've got to appear cool and calm at all times; cope with stupid emergencies like Dave falling down the stairs tonight."

She looked up at Claudia. "The only guy I've managed to score with since my divorce five years back is a burned out pothead half my age from Milwaukee who just happened to be as lonely as I am!" The tears spilled and ran down her cheeks. "And he's no bargain! First he was possessed by an evil spirit; now he's gone and fallen down stairs and broken his fucking leg!"

She pressed her hands to her face and sobbed, feeling all the misery of the years welling up inside her.

Claudia huffed and walked away, her arms folded across her chest.

*

Martin had watched with awe and not a little pride at the way Claudia had launched into Laurel. When Laurel had made to slap her he thought he was on the verge of witnessing a full-on cat fight. Now the older woman was slumped on the edge of her bed, her head down and weeping her eyes out.

He walked over, plucking a tissue from a box on the bedside table and handed it to her. "Here, take this, Laurel."

"Thanks," she sniffled, and blew her nose into it hard.

"Laurel, I understand how you must feel." He looked at Claudia then back to her. "I was divorced. Before I met Claudia, I felt just as lonely, just as worn-down and miserable at times." He spread his hands. "This isn't my day job, in case you've ever wondered. I work in the British Inland bloody Revenue for my sins. You know how people feel about tax men. There aren't many who feel comfortable around us in a social situation, let alone accepting a date. It was only my work in the paranormal, the good I could do there, that kept me going."

*

Claudia came over to him and wrapped her arms about his waist. She kissed the back of his neck and gave Laurel a withering look. Fury still burned in her heart, the menace she saw in Laurel's interest in Martin compounded by the evidence of the DVDs. His arm came around her waist and he held her tight. The sorrowful look he turned on Laurel showed more than words that the older woman was on a losing streak with her man.

*

Laurel looked away rather than face the younger woman's glare. "What can I do that's so worthwhile, Martin?" she asked. "All I can do is run a resort. I help a few thousand folk have a good time for a couple of weeks, but it does nothing for me anymore."

"So find another job; surely there's something better out there for you?"

"At my age?" She gave a snort of bitter laughter. "I don't think so."

"Age equals experience."

"Yeah, and you've got the age part down pat," Claudia put in, her eyes showing her temper was only in abeyance.

"Easy, love." Martin clasped her hand; his grip was warm and strong and she clung to it. "Laurel knows the score now."

In her peripheral vision she saw Claudia roll her eyes and turn away. For a moment she felt a tiny sense of victory over the young woman's youth and attitude.

"Laurel, you must destroy these DVDs, and get Dave to remove the cameras from the cabins. I can sense nothing but negative energy coming from them. You've got to move on to better things, for your sake. If you don't, I'm afraid we'll have to take action. You understand that, don't you?"

"I guess so. They were good for a time, but it's all getting kind of old, now."

"Good." Martin drew the DVD from his pocket. "I'll start the ball rolling with this one." He flushed. "It's of me and Claudia," he muttered. Taking it out of the case he held it up so she could see the date. She nodded, and he took it between his strong hands and bent it out of shape. "There; that's out of commission, permanently. Claudia?"

Claudia held out the remaining jewel cases, a look of stony determination on her face. Laurel looked from her to the cases. "I can't break them the way you did, Martin; I haven't got the strength. Can't you do it for me?"

"No, you've got to do it, to show your good faith."

She looked around the room, and saw the metal trash can. "I know a better way. Give them here."

Fetching the trash can, she placed it on the magazine in the middle of the floor and dropped the DVDs into it, one at a time. When the last clanged into the bottom of the can, she got her cigarette lighter and carefully poured some of the fluid over them. Lighting a twist of paper torn from the magazine, she dropped it into the can.

"There," she said as the flames rose hungrily. "You can see; I keep my word."

"You have no backup disks?"

"No; I'm not that stupid!" She watched the plastic disks melting in the cheerful yellow light of the fire. "Although I was—once."

* * * *

They returned to their cabin with a reek of smoke hanging about them and their clothing. From his memory of the camera angle on the DVD Martin was able to locate the device. It was hidden in a small hollow cut into the frame of the cabin wall, and the lens peered through a hole in the plasterboard. A small microphone nestled alongside it. He covered the hole over with a strip of sticking plaster.

They undressed, showered, got into bed. "At least that's taken care of," Martin said, when they were settled.

"Yeah." Claudia yawned. "Damn, but I've had enough excitement for one night."

"Do you think Laurel will be okay?"

"Huh!" When she snorted the feel of her body jerking against his was wonderful. "Frankly, my dear Martin, I don't give a damn!" She slapped him on the chest.

"Ow! What was that for?" he protested.

"That was for telling me to go easy on the slut!"

"She was beaten, love! She knew it, and wasn't going to cause any more trouble." He held her close; she looked away, seeming far from mollified. "Just so you know, darling, I've never given her any kind of encouragement."

"I do know." She turned over in his arms to face him, her eyes glittering in the faint light from the window. "You're just your normal, lovable, polite English self, Martin Grey. You love me, and I love you—and I'm going to make sure I'm the only woman who does!" She kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss with just a touch of tongue, and he felt her hair tickling his face as she drew back and stared down at him. "All those women who misinterpret your wonderful kind nature will be dealt with firmly! Now, go to sleep."

"Okay, lover. G'night." He leaned across and kissed her.

She flicked her tongue across his lips and smiled at him sleepily. "G'night, sleep tight."

Claudia's warm body against his created an equally warm glow of fulfillment in Martin's mind. As the minutes ticked by he slipped deeper into sleep, his arm around her.

A hard weight suddenly clamped onto his arm, pressing him to the bed and making it hard to breathe once he'd released the first gasp of shock. Eyes wide in the dark, struggling, he fought the weight, pushing his shoulders and arms back against Claudia and the yielding mattress.

Claudia came awake with a start. "Wha…?"

Martin's heart pounded in his chest, memories of an earlier case surfacing like bloated corpses in a pond as he struggled. At last he flung off the pressure—and heard stifled laughter coming from the floor by the bed.

Roaring with anger he leaped out and trod on something which yelled with pain. Claudia screamed in panic, spilling out of bed in a tumble of limbs. Martin stooped on a dark shape outlined against the pale grey carpet, which laughed louder as it attempted to roll away from his clutching hands. He grabbed whatever clothing came to hand, pulled the figure onto its feet and punched it—hard.

The figure grunted in pain and fell on its butt, but then the tipsy laughter returned. Dropping his hold, Martin fumbled for the switch on the bedside light and the room lit up.

"Greg! What the hell do you think you're playing at?" Martin snarled, bending down to grab him by the scruff of the neck. The smell of alcohol was ripe in the air

Claudia stood on the other side of the bed, wild-eyed and naked, her hair in disarray like an avenging fury. She held the bottle of water she always kept by the bed raised in her fist, ready to smash down on anyone who attacked her.

"Hey! Hey!" Greg staggered upright and pulled free of his grip. He backed away towards the door on unsteady feet, his eyes wide as he stared at Claudia's nakedness. "I just wanted to spook the spook-busters! Oh, Jeez, man, the look on your faces!"

"You little bastard!" Claudia snarled, her face flaring crimson. She dropped the bottle and snatched up the bed cover, draping it around herself hurriedly.

Greg doubled up, hiccupping with laughter. Martin took a firm hold on his collar and dragged him to the door. Opening it wide, he helped Greg on his way by means of a firm kick on the backside. When he slammed the door, he could still hear Greg's laughter.

"Damn!" he said, trembling with post-adrenal shock. "The little sod must have hidden in here while we were with Laurel." He helped her restore the bedcovers, and sat on the edge looking at her mournfully. Claudia took his hand. He could feel her shaking. "Honey, I never thought I'd say it, but I'm bloody glad we didn't make love tonight!"

She began to chuckle, and when he joined in it turned to laughter. Helpless, they laughed from relief until the tears rolled down their cheeks. Finally, he wiped his eyes and smiled at her. "Whew! I feel better for that."

"Me too." She stroked her fingertips over his cheek. "The night's still young, honey." Her lips twitched. "After that little scene, I think I could use some good lovin'…"

* * * *

She threw back the cover again, exposing herself to him. Drawing her leg up slowly, she parted her thighs to let him gaze at her sex. Martin's eyes seemed drawn to it like a magnet. With two fingers she stroked her pussy lips, feeling the growing wetness there as her body prepared itself for her man.

He leaned over her, his lips meeting hers, tongue flicking at her lips until she allowed it entrance. She closed her lips around it, sucking it into her mouth so she could twine and twist her own tongue around his. Martin twisted round upon the bed and, still kissing her deeply, his hands began to explore her body.

They lay side by side, his hands wandering slowly over her skin, stroking her breasts, seeking out her hollows and tender places. She kissed him, small kisses full of tenderness and love, feeling his response, the hardness of his cock against her hip.

"Damn, but I want to feel you inside me, Martin Grey."

He smiled. "I want to be inside you too, my love."

"Mm-hmm?" She thought over the options. "We could sixty-nine, or do what we did last time, or maybe…"

"What?" His blue eyes sparkled in the half-light. "Have you something in mind?"

She jerked her chin. "Kneel!"

He obliged, sitting back on his heels, his cock sticking up at a jaunty angle.

"Ooh, that I like!" she said, raking his perineum with her fingernails.

He shuddered lightly under her touch and his cock gave a twitch. Stooping, she draped her hair on his thighs and, rolling his foreskin back with her fingers, she licked around the purple head as it emerged from its sheath, delighting in his clean, masculine smell. Martin stroked her hair, and she could feel his body tense and relax as she licked and sucked, licked and sucked, all around his head and up and down his shaft. She swept her breasts across his knees, aiming to stimulate him further with their touch, and she cupped and squeezed his balls, rolling them from side to side in time with the movement of her breasts.

A taste of pre-cum made itself felt in her mouth, and she gorged herself on his cock, holding her breath and taking it as deep into her throat as she could, wetting it thoroughly with her saliva. Martin's breath came quicker, and he began to thrust slightly, seeking to bring himself off. The feel of her man's readiness for her made her pussy wet, and she judged the time was right.

She disengaged, and knelt before him. "Okay, Martin, you're nearly wet enough now—and so am I!"

Parting her thighs she straddled his knees, exposing her pussy to his adoring gaze. Sweeping her fingers across her pussy lips she wetted her fingers with her juice, and stroked and wiped it all over his shaft. She loved the feel of it under her fingertips, and she took her time in spreading the moisture all over.

"There; now then…" Bringing her legs up, she sat on his knees and linked her ankles behind him. His hands toyed with her breasts as she clasped her hands behind his neck and straddled him. "You'll have to position yourself, darling," she instructed him, raising her hips and letting his cock slide over her pussy.

The bulb of his cock touched her hole and she felt him hold it steady. Relaxing her muscles she began to slide down onto him, impaling herself on his lovely long, thick cock.

"Ooh!" He grinned. "You're so tight."

"And you're so big!" She gave him a long sultry look, took his hands and clasped them around her breasts before leaning all the way back. His cock moved inside her, giving rise to all kinds of strange and wonderful sensations. Her pussy felt hot and engorged. "Hold me by my waist, rock me back and forth and take it slowly," she said, her eyes half-closed. "Let's find our natural rhythm.”

Martin did just that, taking her about the waist and drawing her onto his cock, and letting her slide away, using the slope of his legs. She squeezed her breasts with both hands, pinching the nipples until they were hard and throbbing, feeling the heat rise in her throat and breasts, feeling his hardness sliding in, and out, in, and out.

Her pussy was directly under his gaze, and she slid a hand down over her ribs and belly until she felt her clit under her fingertips. "Watch me, Martin," she said, her voice thick and heavy as her passion rose.

His gaze dropped to her pussy and she ran her fingers over her clit, letting him see everything. His cock felt so good inside. Giving herself up to the moment, she rocked gently back and forth on his lap, her ankles locked behind him to give leverage, impaling herself on him, feeling the hot urgent response of her body—and his.

Then Martin was pulling her upright, the move creating yet more sensations inside her. His lips were upon hers; his warm, strong arms wrapped around her and held her close, her breasts squashing against his chest as he thrust up into her. He was panting in almost perfect time to her rapid breaths, and she bounced up and down, rubbing her tender clit against his groin as his cock rose and fell inside her.

She came in an explosion of pounding blood and fireworks behind her eyes, and crushed him against her like a life preserver to ride out the waves of her orgasm. Martin jerked and shuddered once—twice—three times, and spent inside her in a copious rush.

The lust subsided, their blood returned slowly to a more normal rhythm. He held her close, his breath hot against her neck as he murmured soothing endearments.

* * * *

Morning arrived. They had breakfast in the restaurant, the excellent food helping to restore their inner being. Neither Greg, Bruce nor Laurel were present. The other staff gave them sidelong glances and they caught the odd smile and significant wink.

"Laurel was right about it being impossible to keep secrets around here," Martin said quietly.

"She managed it for a few months, the stupid bitch." Claudia looked around, noting how the other diners avoided her eye. "There're a few people I recognize, even with their clothes on. I wonder what they'd have said if we'd shown them the DVDs?"

"If they're like the ones I worked with that college year, I'd say they'd ask for copies!"

She snorted with laughter. "Yeah, guess you're right. Martin, after all this business with Laurel and Greg last night, do you think we're losing sight of the investigation?"

"We may've gone off track a wee bit, love, but once we get the matter of Greg's behavior sorted out, we can crack on with it."

"I'm glad to hear it." She bit into her toast and looked around once more. "One way or another, I'll be glad to see the last of this place."

* * * *

Eventually, with two cups of good coffee inside them, they went to see Bruce. He wasn't in his office when they arrived; instead, Donna redirected them to his on-site residence, a loft-apartment in the upper storey of a converted barn behind the main building.

It had the red-painted solid wooden construction of the Catskill region, resting on a base of dressed stone. A covered stairway had been installed on one end to give access to the loft apartment, and the lower half was given over to a double garage and utility space.

Claudia looked the place over with a professional eye as they walked up the path toward it. "Oh! Very nice!" She cast a disparaging glance at Laurel's cabin, a plain white stone-and-timber chalet which stood not far away. "It's much better than that thing! Someone's used their wits to preserve the best parts of the old barn whilst modernizing the rest." Martin noticed a predatory gleam appear in her eye. "It's a shame it's tied to the resort. I could definitely sell a place like this if it came on the market."

"It looks as if it was remodeled a few years ago. Bruce couldn't have designed it if the partnership only took the place earlier this year."

"You're right. I'd like to get the name of the architect, though. If she or he worked in Indiana I'd like to know. This kind of work is worth looking out for."

"I dare say Bruce would oblige if you ask him."

They climbed the stairway and sounded the door buzzer. Through the glass of the door they saw Bruce was sprawled on a couch and talking on a cell phone to someone who, judging from his expression, was giving him a hard time. He waggled his eyebrows and gestured for them to come in. As they did so Martin glanced sidelong at Claudia, who winked and flicked her gaze at Bruce.

The outside door gave directly onto the sitting room, which was paneled throughout in pale yellow pine. A kitchenette let off the main room to the left, and he caught a glimpse of a bedroom through a doorway to the right. The furnishings were modern, right down to the modern artworks hung on the walls. Pendant lights hung from the hipped ceiling.

"Okay, okay," Bruce said into the phone. "I'll see to it." He hung up and put the phone in his shirt pocket with a grunt of annoyance. "Sorry about that," he said with a shrug. "Ursula's got some problems at the New York end. She'll be arriving tomorrow night. What can I do for you folks?"

"Greg," Martin said tersely.

"Oh." Bruce leaned back in his chair and looked pensive. "I heard about that. Would it help if he apologized to you?"

"It'd help," Claudia said icily.

"It could have been bloody embarrassing, Bruce!" Martin snapped.

"I've got to say, I'm disappointed in him." Bruce shook his head. "Drunk or not, he shouldn't have pulled a stunt like this."

"I'm surprised too." Martin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he felt a slight ache settle in there. "He came across as a level-headed type. It just goes to show, you can't tell with some folks when they get a drink too many inside them."

Bruce nodded gloomily. He took a small chromed walkie-talkie from his belt and clicked it on. "Greg? Where are you?"

"I'm down at the generator, Bruce. Pete's fixing it."

"Okay. See me in my apartment in ten minutes," Bruce said and looked at Martin. "I believe you've got something to say to Mr. Grey."

Pause. "I'll be right there."

Bruce put the radio back in the draw. "He's on his way." He drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch a few times. "So… What about you, Martin? How're you doing with the search?"

With an effort Martin shook his thoughts free of Greg and focused on the case. "I think I have a lead."

"I'm glad." Bruce continued to drum his fingers; he looked pensive. "Martin, I'm not entirely sure why you needed to book an airplane flight though. They're expensive."

"It was worth it, I think. There's a place about fifteen miles from here called Canning's Vale. We needed to check it out, because it's where we believe Gerry Maguire landed for his fatal rendezvous with the gang. I'm pretty sure it's where the Scotch is hidden."

Bruce grimaced. "What an ugly business. That poor guy flew all that way, in the dead of night, only to be waxed by some little thug with an attitude."

"Yes. The killer got justice, in the end. Hopefully I'll be able to deliver the same to Gerry."

"Amen to that!" He ceased drumming, and fixed Martin with a level stare. "Martin, I'm afraid this ghost business is getting very old, you know?"

"I understand, completely," Martin said in a soothing voice. "Honestly, I don't think you need worry for too much longer."

When he glanced at Claudia she was looking toward the table where a number of sheets of paper lay. A crease had appeared between her eyebrows, a sign he recognized as meaning something was bothering her.

She caught his gaze and looked up. "Oh, there was something I wanted to ask, Bruce. Who was the architect that designed this conversion?"

"It's pretty neat, huh?"

She nodded. "Aesthetically and professionally, yes, it's a nice piece of work."

Bruce flashed his white smile at her and Martin stiffened inwardly, disliking the attention he was giving her. It was more than just polite. Mercifully, Claudia seemed not the slightest bit interested in him.

"I can't remember their name offhand, Claudia," Bruce said smoothly. "It's somewhere in my files; I'll dig it out for you."

"Thanks."

Just then a knock sounded on the door and a contrite and obviously hung-over Greg Dewar walked in. A large bruise decorated his left cheek where Martin had struck him in the night. He gave Martin and Claudia a sheepish look. "Ms. Mackenzie, Mr. Grey, I'd like to apologize to both of you for my behavior last night. It was inexcusable."

"It was, rather," Martin said in a clipped, unforgiving voice. He unconsciously flexed his right hand where the knuckles were still sore from administering the punch.

"I'm truly sorry, sir; I'd had too much to drink. We, uh, that is, I thought it would be funny to try and scare you." Greg held out his hand. "It won't happen again."

Martin looked at him, then reached out and shook hands. "I should hope not! You can go some way to redeeming yourself if you tell us what you did with the Scotch you took from the cabinet last night."

Greg hesitated, glanced at Bruce then nodded. "I left it under the bar. Maybe it's still there."

"It isn't," Bruce said in a cool voice. "We looked when the lights came back on."

Greg began to look hunted. "Maybe it got broken when the machine exploded and someone cleared it up with the rest of the mess? Sorry, sir, I really don't know where it is."

"Guess that'll have to do," Bruce said, rubbing his brow. "Now, folks, if you'll excuse us, I need to speak to Greg whilst he's here."

Greg went pale. Claudia looked at Martin and nodded. They left, closing the door behind them.

Claudia glanced back at the loft as they made their way back to the main building. Taking his arm she leaned close. "Bruce is up to something, dear."

He felt his heartbeat quicken. "Like what?" he asked, wondering if he'd failed to notice some nuance of Bruce's behavior toward her.

"Did you see those papers on that table by the couch?"

Relieved, he nodded. "I saw you looking at them; you were frowning."

"Was I? Guess so. What I saw made interesting reading." She glanced at him sidelong. "One of the tricks I picked up as a realtor is the ability to read upside-down. You'd be surprised at how many people think it can't be done quickly or easily.”

"I can imagine," he replied. "It must give you an edge if you can do that."

Her eyes glinted. "Exactly! Bruce fell into the same trap. Those papers he has back there relate to a property deal in Pennsylvania. From what I could see, there were two sheets for the same location—but the details were different!"

He blinked and looked along his shoulder at her. "Different in what way?"

"One had a lower quoted price than the first. I'm wondering if he's up to no good."

"Hmm! Possibly; I seem to recall Laurel saying the relationship between the partners isn't all it could be."

"There you go," she said, and seemed almost happy to have her suspicions enhanced. "There's nothing like a bit of double-dealing to ruin sweet harmony."

"Aren't there safeguards against that sort of thing?"

"Oh yeah; but Bruce is an architect, honey. He'll know the scams and the shortcuts."

"I can believe that of anyone involved in the building and property trades," he said ruefully, thinking of times when he'd had to deal professionally with defaulting builders and contractors.

"Including realtors?" she asked. Her grip on his arm tightened to a painful degree.

"Excluding realtors!" he said hurriedly.

He didn't like the dangerous gleam in her eye. They'd been together only a matter of a few weeks, yet it seemed they'd known and loved each other for years. It was easy to make assumptions—and just as easy to fall right into an emotional tar pit. Judging by her hard expression Claudia was proving to be very sensitive about any implied slight to her honesty and professional integrity.

"I should think so," she said. "We may be hard bargainers, but we're not crooks! I had to work damn hard to get my license, mister. So did all the others in my profession. Why would I throw it away by making shady deals?"

"Of course you wouldn't make shady deals! I didn't mean to imply for one second that you would." He thought desperately to find some way of assuaging her. "From what I see, your profession over here requires a heck of a lot more training and schooling than the equivalent in Britain. Our realtors are called 'estate agents.' They don't need any kind of qualification to set up in business."

Claudia looked aghast. She stumbled to a halt on the path and stared at him. "You're kidding!"

He shook his head. "I kid you not. They don't need so much as a scrap of paper. They can just open an office and away they go."

"Unbelievable!" She shook her head. "How can anyone trust them?"

"Oh, they have a regulating body which is voluntary to join, and that has a national code of conduct. Anyone who seriously oversteps the mark can find themselves out of business. Apart from that…” He winked, glad that his ploy had diverted her wrath. "—it's a case of caveat emptor."

"Huh!" They resumed their walk. "Any realtor who plays fast and loose in this country will be in real trouble!"

"Understood. So one of the documents you saw was forged."

She gave him an irritated glance. "Well, duh!"

He held up a hand. "Yes, alright, so I walked into that one. Claudia, I'm trying to feel my way around this, okay? Have a bit of patience. Is it possible for Bruce to forge such a thing or to obtain one without going through a realtor?"

She nodded, grudgingly. "Yeah, it's possible. Water marks and official stamps can be forged with the right equipment. Bruce could theoretically get access to that kind of thing. Equally, I guess there're people around who'll forge anything for the right price."

"What do you think we should do?"

"Instinct—and professional pride—tells me to call the cops." She looked vexed. "But we've no proof. By the time they get a warrant, he could destroy the evidence."

"We can't confront him over it, either. He'd just laugh in our faces and have us thrown off the site. That would put the kybosh on our attempts to help Gerry."

She grimaced. "I know. It still sticks in my throat! So what can we do?"

"Nothing—for now. We can watch and wait. Maybe he'll slip up somehow."

* * * *

Donna was waiting outside the reception hall when they passed. The young woman was huddled against the cold in an oversize parka. She spotted them and called out. "Mr. Grey? Ms. Mackenzie? Wait up!" They waited as she hurried up to them. "Is Greg going to be fired, sir?" she asked anxiously.

"I hope not," Martin replied. "What he did was stupid and even frightening, but he apologized to us, and I don't think he'll do it again."

Donna's shoulders sagged and astonishingly she looked on the verge of tears. All the cool stiffness she'd shown in his past encounters with her had vanished.

"I'm sorry!" she said so softly that Martin could scarcely hear her. "It hasn't been easy for us here. What with the way things have been this season, none of us have been able to keep everything in hand. It's Greg's first year with us, and he worked so hard. He deserved to have a good birthday party." She looked up at them, her eyes wet. "Surely Bruce can let him off the hook just this once?"

"Donna, we really can't do much to help Greg," Claudia said and patted the girl's arm. "Bruce is in charge here and it's entirely up to him. We just can't interfere in the running of the resort."

Martin looked at her, and the memory of the brief DVD clip they'd viewed of the young couple rose in his mind. As short as the passage had been before they turned it off, there was real tenderness between them, and he was glad Laurel had destroyed the disk. "You really like Greg, don't you?" he said.

She looked at him with moist eyes, then fished a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose, hard. "Yeah; we're an item." She drew herself up and, when she spoke again, it was in a determined voice. "Well, if it comes to it, I think I can persuade him not to fire Greg. I know a few things about Bruce," she added, darkly.

"Would they have something to do with Joanne, perhaps?"

Donna stared up at him. "You know?"

"Yes, but if we're asked, I'm afraid we'll have to deny it," Martin said. "We've got enough on our plates as it is."

Claudia nodded her agreement. "Donna, just be careful."

"I will." She leaned close. "Greg didn't take the Scotch," she said in confidential tones. "He never had it. It was Joanne. I saw her with it in her hand when I came out of the ladies room last night."

"Do you know what she did with it, or where it is now?" Martin asked anxiously. "Donna, it's vital we get it back!"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Grey. I don't get on all that well with Joanne, so I don't know what she did after the party. I was with Greg all last night, and I mean all last night," she said with an embarrassed little shrug. "I know for sure he didn't have it at any time. For some reason he's covering for her."

"Damn," Martin muttered. "Thanks, Donna; you're a gem for telling us this." He looked up at the office windows in the main building. The windows shone with the pale autumn light. "I'm not sure if we can approach Bruce about this new development," he said finally. "Telling him his lover may have taken the Scotch isn't exactly politic. We'll have to find Joanne and try to do this discreetly."

"She's not due in until one, today. Her cabin is number 12 on the staff row. If she's on site, she'll be there."

* * * *

She wasn't. They spent a fruitless morning trying to find the elusive desk clerk until someone finally recalled Joanne had gone into Gainesville on a shopping trip. As they emerged from the main building they saw her father sweeping snow from the restaurant veranda. Something about the set of the man's shoulders and the dogged way he handled the broom told them an approach would not be welcome.

Lunch came and went, with Greg and some of the others avoiding them. Greg and Donna seemed subdued, eating with no appearance of appetite. Laurel came in when Martin and Claudia had nearly finished the meal and glanced from them to Greg, assessing the situation before coming over to their table.

"I hear you're looking for Joanne?" she said. Her voice was cool and business-like, but her eyes looked haunted.

"Yes. We want to ask her about the Scotch that was taken last night. We've been given reason to believe she took it from the office for some reason."

"Oh?" Laurel's eyebrows rose. "'Reason to believe' sounds very formal!" she said with a flash of her old fire. "I guess she'd have a good reason, too. Anyway, she's back from town. I saw her go into her cabin a few minutes ago."

He cocked an eye at Claudia who nodded, wiped her mouth and stood up. He did the same, noticing how Claudia kept her gaze fixed away from Laurel. "We'd better head down and speak to her before she goes on duty," he said.

"Would you like me to come with you?" Laurel asked.

Claudia gave him a hard look. "No, thanks," he said quickly. "It's a simple inquiry."

When they reached the top of the track leading to the row of staff cabins they saw Joanne in the distance, moving towards the utilities area behind the resort’s main building.

"It's too far and rather impolite to shout," he said. "We'd better go after her."

"British courtesy to the fore again," she muttered, turning the collar of her coat up against the cold damp wind blowing along the valley. She put her fingers in her mouth and let rip with a shrill whistle.

Joanne hesitated but kept walking without glancing back, disappearing from sight almost immediately.

Martin stared at Claudia. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"New York." She grinned. "Jealous?"

"Very!"

"It's the only way to attract a cab in that city." She nodded toward the building. "She took no notice. Do we go in pursuit?"

"Yes, we need to find that bottle."

Raised voices greeted them as they approached the utilities building. The door was partly ajar and, for some reason he couldn't define, Martin slowed and stopped Claudia with a touch to her arm before they reached it. A quick glance inside through the louvers over the windows showed Pete and Joanne Ashby facing each other a short distance apart, glaring at each other.

"Why are you so stubborn about this?" she was complaining. "It's not as if it's serious between me and Bruce!"

"I don't like the idea of you sleeping with that creep!" he replied in a low, angry voice. "How do you think it makes me feel, having to maintain my cover when you're boffin' that little fucker every night?"

"You don't have to think about it," she retorted. "I'm an adult."

"Sometimes I wonder, girl!" He sighed and leaned against a generator casing, fixing her with sad eyes under his beetling brow. "Jo, sweetheart, someday you'll have kids of your own. Then you'll know what it's like to be in my position." He raised his hands and let them fall heavily to his sides. "No father likes the idea of his little girl being…" He grimaced. "Sexually active. It makes us feel old, dammit!"

Joanne giggled then laughed aloud. "Oh, Dad! You're not old." She stepped up to him, put her arms around his neck and hugged him. "You'll never be old, especially not with the way your mind works."

"Like a box full of bananas? Full of devious curves?" He snorted. "That's what my pals at the Treasury reckon." He cuddled her, a strangely touching gesture from one so heavy set and almost perpetually angry-looking. "Baby, at least tell me you're being careful with this guy. I am not in the mood to become a granddaddy yet!"

"I am, Dad; I promise. Oh, speaking of which, have you finished with that bottle yet? Bruce and that Brit ghost-hunter are tearing their hair out over it."

"Yeah, I'm done."

Pete released her and went to a workbench, from which he lifted a bulky toolbox. Opening the top, he unfolded the compartments and took out a cylindrical shape wrapped in a clean white cloth. Gerry appeared beside him, blinking as if he'd woken into a bright light from a heavy sleep. He gazed around him in a woozy fashion before staring hard at Pete, who handed the object over to Joanne.

"Make something up about how or where you found it." He glanced at his watch. "You'd better get goin' or you'll be late for work. I'll catch you later."

Martin clasped Claudia's arm. "Damn! Quick, hide!"

They moved quickly away from the window and ran up the path, looking for concealment. An opening in the side of the building revealed an alcove in which was a fire door, partly blocked by a stack of beer crates in contravention of fire regulations. They ducked behind them just in time, huddling close in the confined space.

A few moments later Joanne walked past accompanied by Gerry, who stumbled along in her wake muttering, "Wait up, dammit!" He glanced in at them and waved in friendly fashion. "Hi, fellersh!" Martin found himself signaling to the ghost not to give away their hiding place, and immediately felt ridiculous.

As they emerged from the alcove they saw Pete Ashby locking the door to the utility building. He started visibly and stared suspiciously at them.

"Hi, Pete!" Martin called, walking towards him.

"Martin, what are you doing?" Claudia hissed, hurrying to walk alongside him.

"He's seen us, and he must guess we saw Joanne. We need to talk to him."

As they drew closer, the level glare the man turned on them made them stop of one accord. "We're looking for Joanne; I think she's got a bottle of Scotch we've been looking for," Martin said.

"She's taking it to Baker," Pete growled and narrowed his eyes. "I'm kind of surprised you didn't see her if you came from that direction."

"Oh, we came from up there," Martin said, waving vaguely towards the staff cabins.

"Yeah? Well, now you know where and what Jo's doing, you don't need to hang around here. If you don't mind, I got work to do." He turned away.

"Right, fine," Martin said. "Joanne's a nice girl, by the way. A real… treasury of virtues."

Pete stopped, turned, and gave him a hard stare. Martin met his gaze with a neutral expression. A long career in the British Inland Revenue Service had equipped him well for meeting hard or evasive looks. It was Pete who broke eye contact first.