Free The Supernaturals by David L. Golemon

hang them up later.”
    They passed through the grand living room. Every piece of furniture was impeccably cleaned and dusted. The massive stone fireplace—twenty feet wide and twelve feet high—was cold and empty, but looked as if it would have been very warm and inviting in the early spring and late summer. Kelly could picture guests congregating here, drinking brandy and smoking cigars.
    “I’m surprised there aren’t any animal head trophies on the walls,” Paul said.
    “The Lindemann family didn’t hunt on the property after the house was built. The entire estate is free of hunters, and the animals here ‘bouts know they’re safe anywhere in the valley. That was always one rule that was, and is, strictly enforced.”
    Kelly wondered who did the enforcing of the Lindemann laws. She decided she would ask later and wrote down the thought on her notepad.
    They followed the housekeeper through the arched doorway and into the formal dining room. They all had to stop as they took in the fifty-foot cherry table centered in the room. The ceiling that hung over it was forty feet above them and had etched flowers in the plaster. Down at the far end of this expansive table was their lunch. A silver service waited on a large credenza with gleaming white china stacked beside it.
    “Oh, something a little less troubling would have been fine,” said Kelly turning to Mrs. Johansson.
    “Was no trouble, I enjoy cooking for guests of Mr. Lindemann. I hope you like brook trout; I also have a nice Chicken Kiev for anyone who doesn’t like fish. There is a bar to your left, and water on the table. Please keep to the main floor until Mr. Lindemann arrives.” She looked at her wristwatch. “He should be along any time now. I have to excuse myself, my family and I must be—”
    “Leaving before it gets dark?” Greg asked with a mysterious air to his voice.
    The woman smiled at Greg as if he were just an obstinate child.
    “Not at all. We still have chores to do before three, and tonight is American Idol night. We like to leave at three and get our own chores done at home, and then eat early so we can watch people make fools of themselves.”
    “Oh, I…”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Johansson, we appreciate it,” Kelly said with a smile. She eyed Greg, who turned away, feeling rather stupid for what he had said about the darkness. Still, Kelly caught the drift when the housekeeper said watching people makes fools of themselves. She had given away her true thoughts on Hunters of the Paranormal.
    “Mrs. Johansson, can I ask one more question?”
    The woman stopped and turned with her smile still in place, but Kelly could tell that the housekeeper had anticipated her question and put on her happy face for the answer that was to come.
    “Young lady, I don’t know anything about what has gone on here. To us this is just a house. We have from time to time had some excitement out here, and have had to clean up some god-awful messes by vandals and such—and that man, Professor Kennedy. However, if you’re going to ask me if this place bothers us, or if we have ever experienced anything like what your show investigates, the answer is no. We love this house and the property. It provides for my family, so how could that be bad?”
    Kelly smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”
    The housekeeper nodded her head and then turned away. “Just leave everything on the table and I’ll clean up in the morning. The refrigerator and pantry are full. If you would like something to eat this evening, just help yourselves.”
    “Mr. Lindemann can afford all of this? I thought his money was tight?” Sanborn asked.
      “We’re paid through the Lindemann Foundation,” Eunice said. “The upkeep, the food, the repairs, our paychecks, all of it comes from an office in Philadelphia. Now,” she said looking at her watch, “have a good evening.”
    The four of them watched her leave. Jason slapped his hands together and started for the table. He stopped