Free Smoke and Mirrors by Tanya Huff Page A

CB’s second wife, had convinced the girls that Daddy owed them big time for the divorce and they, in turn, had convinced CB. As a result, the man who had once made an opposing quarterback wet himself in fear could deny his daughters nothing. On the rare days they came to the studio, production went right down the toilet. Once or twice other, less easily recovered things went down the toilet as well.
    They must be here because we’re on location.
    Wait a minute.
    He was supposed to be picking up the two kids playing the ghosts.
    God, no.
    As Ashley chased a screaming Brianna through the door leading to the dressing rooms, CB lifted his massive head and met Tony’s eyes. “You’re driving them to the house, are you? Good.”
    So much for the power of prayer. “Uh, Boss . . .”
    â€œI promised them they could be on the show. They’re thrilled about it.” His expression lightened slightly. “Unfortunately, I have paperwork to catch up on.” The sound of distant crashes propelled him toward his office. “You’ll be the supervising adult of record. Amy has the paperwork. See that they have a good time.”
    â€œBoss, I have to talk to you! About the house!”
    CB paused in the doorway and considered him for a long moment while Tony tried to make the words metaphysical emergency appear somewhere in his expression. Finally, as the office lights flickered and faint shrieks of girlish laughter lifted the hair on the back of Tony’s neck, he sighed, “Keep it short,” before disappearing into his office.
    Amy snagged Tony’s arm as he moved to follow. “You’re not going to tell him about the ghosts, are you? He’ll think you’re nuts and you’ll still have to drive the girls to the set!”
    He pulled his arm free. Ghosts on Web sites were one thing. Ghosts in the drawing room talking to the actors were something else again. Hopefully. “You just don’t want the terror twins to stay here.”
    â€œWell, duh!” They winced in tandem at the distinctive sound of a clothes rack hitting the floor. “I should never have told you about the ghosts.”

    It wouldn’t have mattered, but Amy had no way of knowing that. Although given what was at stake, even if he hadn’t seen Stephen and Cassandra large as life and twice as dead, he’d have used Amy’s information and tried to convince CB they were real.
    CB’s office matched him in size and, like him, was functional rather than ornate. The single fish in the saltwater tank glared out at Tony as he passed. The fish had been a recent present from CB’s lawyer and the day it was put into the tank it ate the three smaller fish still struggling to live in the murky water—an omen of biblical proportions as far as Tony was concerned. He paused about a meter from the desk, took a deep breath, and decided to get right to the point.
    â€œCaulfield House is haunted.”
    â€œSo Amy informed me first thing this morning. You’re wasting my time, Mr. Foster.”
    â€œYeah, Amy told me, too, but she didn’t need to. I saw them—the ghosts.”
    â€œYou saw them?” When Tony nodded, CB laid both massive hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Is this because of . . . what you could be?”
    â€œThe wizard thing? No. Maybe. I don’t know.” On second thought. “Probably. Point is,” he added hurriedly as CB’s eyes began to narrow, “I saw them. Stephen and Cassandra, murdered back in ’57 standing in the drawing room talking to Lee.”
    â€œMr. Nicholas saw them as well?”
    â€œYeah, but he didn’t know they were dead.”
    â€œHow did you . . . ?”
    â€œBits of them were missing.”
    â€œAnd Mr. Nicholas didn’t notice this?”
    â€œHe wasn’t seeing them the way I was. And I saw Stephen standing in the second-floor bathroom window.”
    â€œ In