He looked at Joyce to check her reaction and continued to the back corner with the tape. "How the heck is measuring this old place going to help you?" he called over his shoulder.
Joyce jotted down the length and then explained some of the nuances of spatiotemporal divergence as they lifted the tape and carried it to the opposite wall. "Has to do with figuring out which world the ghost thinks it's in. For example, a ghost seen emerging from a wall suggests the wall didn't exist when the ghost was alive. And the converse is true – if a ghost's movements reflect the current configuration of the site, and we discover that there have been alterations, we can reasonably conclude that the ghost lived since those alterations were made. And the more Cree knows about when the ghost was alive, the easier it is for her to determine who the ghost is. And once she knows who it is, she can better figure out why it's here. In this case, we're particularly wondering about any changes since 1882, when John Frederick Beauforte killed the servant in this room."
"You know about that? We're going that far back for this?" Returning with the end of the tape, Ronald looked around, eyebrows high and lower lip thrust out, as if seeing the room in a new light. Again, she got the sense he was pleased or relieved.
They measured the four walls of the room, then began taking distances between its significant features: the fireplace, the windows, the door. Ron was cute, Joyce decided as he crouched to hold the end against the edge of the fireplace coping. His slacks pulled taut against nice buns, and though he had a just bit of a gut it was more than compensated for by the good shoulders and hunky back.
"Ro-Ro," Joyce said. "How did you get afflicted with that one?"
He gave her that grin, just a little sharklike, sarcastic but cute. "My uncle Brad. Seems I had a bit of a stutter when I was two years old. 'What's your name?' he'd ask. 'Ro-Ro-Ronnie,' I'd answer. He started teasing me with it, and it stuck – Ro-Ro."
When they were done with the horizontals, Joyce took a moment to jot some notes. Ron came to the table where she stood and leaned across her to reach over and switch on the table lamp. It was only partly a courteous gesture, more of a flirtation, Joyce decided. The extra light was nice, but afterward he half sat against the table edge, too close, looking at her. She was acutely aware of how near he was, how big he was, how alone they were in the cavernous, dark house. And from this close, she didn't really like everything she saw in his eyes. Something calculating, and selfish, and indulgent. Something else, too… a little afraid, maybe, as if somewhere in him was a scared boy putting on an act. The combination frightened her, and she decided maybe it was time to cool the boy-girl games.
"So you really believe all this stuff?" he asked. "This psychotherapy for ghosts?" His expression made it clear it was intended as a good-natured, skeptical jibe.
"Of course."
He shook his head, amazed. "And your boss, she really sees ghosts?"
"She sees them and communicates with them, yes."
"Can I ask you something?" Ron leaned in confidingly. "What's her problem, anyway? She's got this… shall we say, chilly side to her. Has she got… relationship problems? A problem with men?"
Joyce took a small step sideways. "You know, Ron, I don't think "
He held up his hands. "I know, I know. Sorry. I know she's your boss, you're loyal. No insult intended, honest to God – I think the world of that woman. I do. I was just going to point out that you, by contrast, most definitely do not seem to possess that, uh, particular problem." He paused to observe her response, grinning at whatever he thought he saw in her face. Before she could reply, he pushed himself away from the table and dusted his hands together. "Well. What's next, milady? I am at your service – what dimensions or proportions would you like to measure next?"
They took the vertical dimensions, plumbs, and levels. By the time they were finished, it was clear that the library had not changed in the one hundred and fifty years since it had been built. And given that the built-in shelves, the fireplace, and the windows and door largely determined the placement of furniture, the patterns of human activity would probably be unchanged as well.
Joyce felt a flash of disappointment: The physical room could tell them nothing about the ghost Cree had seen there.
They moved upstairs. Ronald switched on the lights in the central room and cleared a space on a table for the second-floor schematics. Joyce took a moment to study them and get her bearings, trying to ignore how close he stood as he looked over her shoulder. She didn't look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her body, as if his gaze traced an uncomfortable heat. She wondered what had possessed her to wear this dress tonight. From this close, his scent surrounded her, and she was dismayed at how attractive she found it.
She didn't tell him the details, but Cree was particularly interested in the juncture of hallway and central room, where Lila had first seen the shoe tips, and where Cree herself had seen them. The owner of the shoes had clearly been standing just around that corner, as if pressing himself against the wall.
It took only one measurement to find a deviation: The distance from the corner to the first doorway down the hall was eighteen inches longer than the plan's specifications. The central room proved to be the same amount shorter.
"Oh, hell, of course!" Ronald said. Frowning at himself, he walked along the wall, rapping it with his knuckles. The wall at the corner gave forth a hollower sound, and Ron nodded as if he'd found what he expected. "Heating and air-conditioning ducts. Daddy put in the furnace in the old larder, that's almost directly below us. This's where the main air duct comes up for the second floor, they'd've needed more room than the thickness of the old wall. So they'd've built out the whole wall another foot or so. See the vents there, and over there? Air-conditioning uses the same ducts." He gestured toward louvered grates on two of the walls. "Did a good job of matching the cornice and ceiling paneling, that's why it's not more obvious. Kept the historical appearance."
Joyce noted the measurements. When they moved on down the hall, they found another deviation immediately: The door to Lila's old bedroom had been moved about two feet to the right, apparently to allow space for ducts between the door and a load-bearing member in the wall. There was no question, from what Lila had described, that the boar-headed man used that corner and these doorways – in exactly their current location – to conceal himself.
The library ghost's period of origination might still be unclear, but this ghost had to be from after 1949. Or else it was a very, very unusual critter of some kind.
"Looks like this tells you something important," Ron prodded.
"Maybe."
"So, what – Lila saw something here? What the hell did she see, anyway? Or was it Miz Doctor Black who saw something?"
"Actually, I don't know," Joyce lied. "Cree keeps those details confidential. Sorry."
"You're really not gonna tell me anything? After the yeoman's service I've rendered tonight? Surely I get some little reward!"
Joyce just rolled her eyes and went about setting up the laser level for the second-floor work.
They spent another half hour at it, but she knew they'd gotten what they'd come here for. She was dying to get back to the hotel and tell Cree. Also, the ambivalence she felt about Ron's attention was growing, and it would be nice to get out of here before one of them did or said something awkward. She was glad when she was finally able to put the tools away and roll up the plans again.
Eleven o'clock and still no sign of Cree. Wouldn't she have called if she were going to spend the night at Paul Fitzpatrick's house? How much simpler this would be if Cree would just carry a cell phone. But no, she avoided using them because after listening to Ed yammer about electromagnetic frequencies she was afraid habitual use would affect her brain and impair her sensitivities. Natch. Of course. Leaving her friends and associates with dilemmas like the current one.