"He may be a huge name overseas. But you're a huge name here. I won't let him forget that. There'll be no more costar bashing on this show."
"Costar bashing?"
"I won't stand for it. Now, about this private seance. Do you mind watching, just to show support?"
BEFORE WE headed into breakfast, Becky's assistant, Will, came to tell her he'd conveyed the same invitation to the private seance to Angelique, but she'd refused, claiming she had a manicure appointment. Becky fumed, and I offered to talk to Angelique, but she didn't want me getting involved.
Over breakfast, we discussed the seance.
"First, where to conduct it?" Becky said. "Mr. Simon has checked all records for this house, and the only reference to a death he could find was some has-been producer who hanged himself. For excitement, that rates about a two. Must-snore TV."
I glanced at the hanging residual and sent up a silent apology to his ghost, wherever it was.
Grady leaned forward, tapping his knife on the table. "Perhaps, but it's the ones whose deaths weren't reported that are the most entertaining. "
"Accidental deaths, you mean?"
A smile creased his tanned face. "No, purposeful. Very purposeful. I have felt a dark presence in this house, a force of great evil, death so vile, so despicable that the heart freezes at the very thought-"
Claudia motioned for him to take it down a notch.
He cleared his throat, then sliced into his egg. "I have, you see, some experience with these things."
"And you sense… evil in this house?"
"Not surprisingly. It is in the seats of power that the demonic reigns. Those who crave the trappings of power-wealth, fame, beauty-are often driven into the service of Satan to achieve their goals." He turned to Claudia. "Have we ever visited a castle or an ancestral home where I haven't found evidence of satanic rites or devil worship?"
Claudia gave a soft sigh. "Never."
Grady smiled.
DOWSING ROD FOR EVIL
"I FELT A STRONG PRESENCE down here the other night," Grady said as he led us into the basement. "I know, Becky, that you were simply using the best available space for the party, but you should be careful about bringing spiritualists to subterranean realms. They're simply rife with evil spirits."
"Jaime?" Becky said. "Are you picking up anything?"
"I don't have Mr. Grady's nose for evil, I'm afraid."
"Of course she doesn't," he said. "What evil would dare show its hideousness in the face of such beauty?"
Claudia looked like she couldn't decide whether to gag or scratch my eyes out.
Grady took a compact from his pocket, did a makeup check and hair fluffing, then drew himself up straight.
"Camera, please." He lifted his hands, like a pianist preparing to play. "Robert, are you there?" Pause. "Yes. Yes, he is. Thank you, Bob."
Grady opened his eyes. "I have made contact with my spirit guide."
Huh. That was easy. Eve? Are you taking notes?
"For this session, I have selected Black Robert McGee as my guide," Grady continued. "He was a notorious pirate who terrorized the Caribbean. In the afterlife, he is trying to make amends, seeking redemption by helping my quest against the dark forces. Having lived on that dark side, he is the perfect guide for this segment of my journey."
A pirate spirit guide. Cool. Eve had been known to hang out with pirates, but I don't think that counted. She was, however, well acquainted with dark forces. As for seeking redemption, though… questionable. Very questionable.
Grady and "Bob" proceeded to wander the basement, Grady with his hands out, dowsing rods for evil.
"I see a dark room. Very dark. I-" His head jerked up, eyes closed, and he let out a whimper, then said in a high-pitched voice. "It's dark, Mommy, so dark…"
His head twitched and bobbed like a bird, then his eyes flew open.
"Bob? Yes? Thank you, Bob."
He pivoted and stopped facing a half-door that led into a crawl space under the stairs. He gave an exaggerated shudder, then looked into the camera.
"Bob tells me we will find the source of this great evil under those stairs. Inside there is a room. A room whose walls once ran red with blood. A family slaughtered. The satanic altar is beneath those steps."
"Amityville?" I mouthed to Becky.
"Yes!" Grady's face was feverish now as he spit the word. "Thank you, Bob. Bob has reminded me of another case similar to this. An American case in Maine, I believe."
" Long Island," I mouthed for him.
He nodded his thanks. " Long Island, thank you, Bob. The infamous Amityville horror. I have long believed that the rituals conducted within those walls were part of a wider ring of satanic activity."
"Faked!" I mouthed, gesturing to get his attention.
"Yes, Bob? Bob is trying to tell me about something but- Bob? Are you still there?"
Grady signaled for the camera to stop filming. "He's gone, I fear. This happens from time to time, particularly in places with such intense negative energy." He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his neck, then looked at me. "Jaime, I believe you were saying something?"
"Amityville was a hoax," I said.
I explained. The house had been the site of infamous killings-a young man who'd murdered his parents and four siblings. A year later, a family bought the house, claimed they saw blood dripping down the walls, demonic pigs, what-have-you, but stayed there- with their terrified kids-until they had enough details for a book. A best-selling book. And the guy who killed his family? His lawyer had been trying for a "devil made me do it" defense, and had been in contact with the haunted homeowners. The lawyer later claimed he and the couple had dreamed the whole scheme up over a bottle of wine. The family had since admitted, in court, that at least some of the things they claimed had never happened.
When I finished, Grady glanced at Claudia, who eyed me as if suspecting I was making it up.
"All true," Becky said. "A couple of years ago the Catholic Church revealed it had submitted a list of inaccuracies to the book publisher… which ignored them. Big hoax. Paid well, though," she added with admiration.
"I'm not surprised," Claudia muttered. "It's America. Land of 'anything for a buck.' "
Grady waved her to silence and went still, head cocked as if listening. "Bob has returned. We may begin again."
The camera started rolling.
"Thank you, Bob. Bob tells me the events of Amityville were, I fear, a false case predicated on greed and the lust for fame." A slow, sad shake of his head. "Unfortunately, such counterfeits do exist and we must be vigilant for them. However, as Bob also says, we must be careful not to let one falsehood blind us to the overwhelming truth of evil. It seems those responsible for Amityville used real events elsewhere as the basis for their fabrication, and here, in this house, we see one such example-"
His head jerked back, eyes closing. Her started shaking so violently that Becky tensed as if fearing a convulsion, but Claudia waved her down.
Grady's arms shot around his body, hugging himself, his teeth chattering, and I realized that his "convulsions" were supposed to be shivering.
"Momma?" he said in that high-pitched voice. "It's cold, so cold and so dark. I'm's-s-scared." A whine, more like a car engine than a child. "The bad man is coming. The bad man is-"
Grady roared, his head whipping back, teeth bared. His eyes flew open, rolling. Anyone who'd watched enough of his shows would have seen this coming, but Becky jumped and dropped her clipboard. As she scrambled for it, Grady allowed himself a tiny smile of satisfaction that morphed into a snarl, his head jerking back and forth, hands clawing the air.
"He's fighting possession by an evil spirit," Claudia explained in a monotone.
"I see," Becky said. "Is there any chance this spirit will win?"
"About ninety-five percent."
Becky smiled.