"Exactly," Milo agreed, watching the group as they sat in a circle for a group meditation. "Logic, that's the key to it. You seem like a very logical person."
I smiled. "It goes with the territory. I'm a physicist, you see. Logic is more or less my forte."
"Really?" He turned an interested face on me. "You don't happen to like puzzles, do you? The brain teasers? I am mad for them, but seldom have anyone to share them with, since the wife doesn't like that sort of thing."
"Logic puzzles, you mean? Car A leaving Los Angeles at thirty miles an hour, and a train leaving Chicago at sixty, that sort of thing?"
"Well…somewhat. I used to belong to a logic puzzle group in university, but have lost touch with most of the members."
"Ah. I'm not much of a puzzler, but those things seem to me to be set up to be easily solved if you just take the proper steps."
"That they are." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then a smile spread across his face as he nodded toward the group in front of us. "Would you like to try one out?"
"A puzzle?"
"Yes. One to do with this group?"
I looked at the six people in front of us. "You're kidding. Logical ghost hunters?"
"Something like that," he said, laughing. "Look, there are five members there, plus your friend Sarah. That's the makings of a logic puzzle."
"I'll take your word for that." I sat back on the table, pleased there was something else to do other than watch ghost hunters communing with spirits. "I don't know if I can match someone who used to make puzzles, but I'll give it a shot."
"That's the ticket! Let's see…you know their names, don't you?"
"Actually, I don't. I missed the introductions because I was in the restroom when everyone met at the local restaurant."
"Perfect. I've known these folks for the last eight years, and I can tell you that each of them—this is excepting your friend, of course—live in different towns. Now, let me see, we need a third element, something you can't tell by looking at them…hmm. Ah, got it. Each one of these teams has members with a different supposed psychic specialty."
I raised my eyebrows, looking them over again. With my newfound knowledge of things paranormal, I didn't see any signs in them that they were also "in the know," so to speak. "OK. So I'm supposed to guess who has what psychic ability?"
"Supposed psychic ability," he said with a wink. "Name, psychic ability, and town, how's that sound?"
"Better than being bored," I laughed. "Let's do it."
"Right, then. The psychometrist and Mr. Brand both like their tea without milk. The telepathist from Newberry and Mrs. Floring, the medium, don't get along well. The mind reader comes from St. Bartleby."
"Wait, wait, wait," I said, scrabbling around in my purse. "I need some paper to write this all down. Telepathist and Floring, medium, don't get along…St. Bartleby…OK, go on."
"Now then, Susannah, Mr. Bitters, Michael, the Ouijist, and the person from Learing-on-Bent all usually arrive together. Mrs. Lee and Timothy are always late. Daniel the channeler and Carol sing in a local choir."
"Oh man, this is getting good," I said, writing it all down. "It's just like a logic class I had eons ago in college."
"Daniel Richings doesn't live in Bartleby. Carol doesn't live in Leewardstone."
"England has the best town names…got it. Any more?"
"Just one. If you asked Mrs. Lee if she had been with the club longest, she'd say no, that was her friend from Edmonds, with whom she'd grown up in her town of Newberry."
"Hmm. OK. Let me see here…" I eyeballed the info I'd written down, decided it was nothing more than mathematics disguised as words, and assigned each bit of information a numerical value, then began to arrange them in equations that made sense.
"Take as long as you need, although it looks like the meditation is about up," Milo said, one eye on the group.
"I almost have it…no, wait, that won't work…hmm…she can't be there and there at the same time…aaaaah." I looked up with a smile.
"Figured it out, did you?" Milo asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"I think so. I am cheating a bit in that I can see there are only two women in the group, but even so, it makes sense that since the telepathist is from Newberry, and Mrs. Lee claims the town of Newberry, Mrs. Lee must be the telepath. Since she doesn't arrive with Susannah, then by the process of elimination, Mrs. Lee's first name must be Carol, which means that Mrs. Floring, the medium, is Susannah. She can't come from Newberry, St. Bartleby, or Learing-on-Bent, but could live in Leewardstone or Edmonds."
Milo smiled. My confidence rose.
"Since Mrs. Lee's friend is from Edmonds, and Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Floring don't get along, that means she's from Leewardstone. Daniel Richings doesn't live in Bartleby, nor can he live in Newberry or Leewardstone. Thus he has to live in Edmonds or Learing-on-Bent."
"What on earth are you doing?" Sarah frowned at me. "You're playing games while we are trying to conduct a very serious scientific investigation?"
"Just passing a little time," I said hastily, shoving my sheet of paper at Milo. "Are you all done with your humming?"
"It isn't just humming, it's opening ourselves up to…oh, why do I bother? Honestly, Portia, I'd think you could display a little more respect for what we're doing here, given the fact that you are what you now are," she said with a vehement whisper as she pulled me after the assembled group.
I tossed Milo an apologetic smile. He read over my paper, and gave me a thumbs-up, which I interpreted to mean I'd figured out the rest of the puzzle correctly. "Milo and I were just amusing ourselves while you guys were opening up and such. He's some sort of puzzle enthusiast. Did you know that his wife and the other woman don't get along?"
Sarah rolled her eyes and grabbed my wrist, hauling me along after the group. "Come on, we have a room to investigate. Mr. Richings says he has recorded a temperature drop of eight degrees there on three separate occasions."
"Probably just a draft," I muttered, but kept my voice low. I had promised Sarah I'd spend the evening with her temporary ghost hunting group in exchange for her help finding out what happened to Hope, and despite my wishes to be elsewhere at that moment—Theo's arms came to mind as a good alternative—I'd do what I could to see to it that Sarah had an enjoyable evening.
Why do I sense a profound feeling of martyrdom from you?
I smiled at the voice in my head. I'm feeling particularly saintly tonight.
Is it that bad?
Nothing I didn't expect. A bunch of people running around with equipment measuring drafts and electromagnetic flux, and jumping at every creak and pop.
It's only for a few hours. I'm sure you will triumph over such exacting circumstances.
Indeed. Why are you talking to me, not that I'm complaining? I thought you didn't want me bothering you?
Sweetling, you never bother me. You do, however, distract me from matters at hand. It's your breasts. And thighs. And lips, and legs, and all the other bits in between. Theo's words were accompanied by such erotic mental images that I found myself getting aroused right there in the middle of a cold, mouse-riddled mill.
If you don't want me running out of here, hunting you down, and wrestling you to the ground to have my way with you, you'd better stop sending me those sorts of thoughts.
Would you really wrestle me to the ground? he asked, sounding intrigued.
Absolutely. How goes the info-hunting?
He sighed. Not so good. The nephilim I contacted knew nothing.
Crap. So we don't have any leads?