I hoped it would end there, but it didn’t. The man pulled cruelly on the leash, dragging the puppy along, as it began to squirm in earnest, and the farther the man tugged it down the street, the more terrified the puppy became. Its eyes bulged wide and it began to bite at the leash and growl and whimper and snarl. Five more feet had it resembling some sort of rabid animal—it was so terrified that it was nearly unrecognizable as the same dog that’d been held up to the camera only moments before.
“That rat bastard!” I growled as I stared in horror at the computer screen. I could feel my hands curl into fists and I wanted nothing more than to reach into the image and punch that guy in the nose. But he managed to anger me even further when he picked up the puppy, who was wriggling and squirming and snarling, and held it suspended for a moment while the camera moved in for a close-up.
Gilley and I sat there in stunned silence; I couldn’t believe the cameraman was cooperating with this clear-cut case of animal cruelty! A moment later the man began to walk slowly back toward the camera, and the second he got to within about five feet of the cameraman, the puppy suddenly calmed down and settled for just dangling in the man’s hands, shivering pitifully from nose to tail.
I closed the computer screen and rounded on my partner. “Get Gopher on the phone!” I snapped.
“Now!”
Gilley was already dialing and after three rings sounded through the speakerphone, we were rewarded with Gopher’s enthusiastic, “Hi, Gilley! Did you get the DVD?”
“What the
hell
was that?” I yelled, not even bothering to announce that I was in the room with Gilley.
There was a pause, then, “Hi, M. J.”
“Don’t you ‘hi’ me, Peter Gophner! How could you let them
do that
to an innocent puppy?”
“It wasn’t my idea,” he began, but I wasn’t interested in excuses.
“Of all the stunts you’ve pulled, Gopher, this has to be the lowest, most underhanded, most ridiculous. . . .” My voice trailed off and I began to pace the room. “You’re lucky I don’t quit over this, do you hear me?”
For a long moment Gopher said nothing, which was probably wise, and I knew that he was likely waiting for me to calm down long enough to hear him out. Finally, Gilley said, “You didn’t have to use the dog to get us to agree to the location shoot, Gopher.”
We heard Gopher sigh before he said, “You’re right. But I swear to you, using the dog wasn’t our idea. I sent Kim and John over there to do some more scouting, because I wasn’t really excited about our first pick. They found a few spots that were just okay, but when they got to this little village on the outskirts of Edinburgh, Scotland, they called to tell me they’d hit the jackpot.
“I guess the guy you saw on the footage is some local who does these ghost tours and he picks up a new dog or cat every week from the pound to demonstrate what happens when you try and walk an animal down Briar Road. From there he took John and Kim down into the tunnels and caverns right below and the footage gets even freakier. Did you guys happen to watch the whole thing?”
“No,” I said, still angry about the pug. “And I’m not planning on watching it, Gopher. That was just sick, do you hear me?
Sick!
”
There was another long pause, and another sigh from Gopher before he said, “Okay, I understand, M. J. We’ll stick to the original plan and fly your team to Yorkshire.”
That got my attention. “No,” I said firmly. “Now that I know what’s happening there, we’re absolutely doing Edinburgh first.”
“We are?” said Gil and Gopher together.
I nodded. “Definitely.”
“Fantastic!” said Gopher, and he began to say something else, but I cut him off.
“We’ll go to Edinburgh on one condition,” I said. “And that is that you call ahead, and find out where that puppy is and if he’s okay.”
“Er . . . ,” said Gopher.
“Further, that you let that ghost-tour guide know that I want a meeting with him, specifically.”
“Ummm,” said Gopher. “M. J.?”
“What?” I snapped, reading his tone.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Positive,” I said. “Get me that meeting, Gopher.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll do that, but watch the rest of the footage, okay? There were some really amazing and creepy things happening belowground that I know Kim and John are still really shaken up about. It’ll help prepare you for the shoot.”
“When was the footage taken?” I asked, still worried over the trauma the puppy had experienced.
“This past weekend,” said Gopher.
I didn’t reply and Gilley took the lead. “Sure thing, Gopher. See you tomorrow at the airport.”
After Gilley had hung up, I hit the eject button on my computer and handed him the DVD. “Burn this,” I ordered.
“To another disc?” he asked.
I smiled. Only to a computer geek would the words “burn this” not include the thought of fire. “No, honey,” I said. “Destroy it. Make it into barbecued brisket or chop it up into a million pieces. I never want to see it again.”
“But Gopher said to watch the footage,” Gil whined, refusing to take the disc from me.
I scowled at him and walked around to my shredder, where I fed it into the grinder. It made the most satisfying noise as it was gobbled up. “I guess we’ll have to go in blind.”
Gilley looked at me skeptically. “I never like it when you say that.”
I smiled. “Come on, honey, let’s go pack.”
We landed in Edinburgh in the pouring rain, which was fitting, since we left New England in a torrential storm. And the temperature wasn’t much different either: friggin’ frigid, by my estimate.
It was also two a.m. local time, or eight p.m. our time. I tried calling Steven to let him know I’d landed safely, but it went straight to voice mail. I left him a message and wondered where he could be. We’d been playing phone tag for the past two days, and I hadn’t actually talked to him in all that time.
“You okay?” Heath asked as we piled into the van Gopher had rented.
“Fine,” I said. I knew he’d probably caught the frustrated look on my face when I’d snapped my phone closed, but I couldn’t help it.
“You sure?”
I forced a smile. “I’m sure. Thanks.”
Gopher drove us to the village of Queen’s Close, which, by the map I was given, was a good distance away from the heart of Edinburgh. It took us about forty minutes to get to a quaint little inn where we all checked in. We then went directly to our rooms to catch some shut-eye before an early-morning start. I did a lot of staring up at the ceiling wondering about the boyfriend I’d left behind, my birdie, and the little pug puppy that I hoped was okay.
The next morning Gopher knocked on my door, waking me from the short sleep I’d finally managed to fall into. “M. J.?” he called. “It’s time for breakfast. You’ll need to come down in the next ten minutes if you want to eat before we leave for the shoot.”
I mumbled something unintelligible, and I believe he took that as a sign that I was up and moving, because nothing further came from his side of the door. With a sigh I sat up and shivered. My room was freezing and the coverlet left a lot to be desired.
This spurred me to get dressed and get downstairs in search of a nice hot cup of coffee, pronto.
I met up with the rest of the crew in the dining room, which included Meg, our personal assistant and makeup artist; Kim and John, our location scouts; Gopher, our producer/director; Jake, our camera guy; and Russ on sound.
Also at the table were Gilley and Heath. “Hey there,” Heath said as I sat down, rubbing my hands together.
“Coffee?” I asked hopefully.
Gilley reached over and poured me a piping cup from a carafe on the table. I curled my fingers around it gratefully. “Don’t they heat this place?”
“Welcome to Britain,” Kim said. I noticed she was bundled up in a layer of sweaters, a thick scarf, a down vest, and fingerless gloves. “They’re a bit hardier here in Scotland. They don’t turn the heat up past sixty-five anywhere around these parts.”
I looked at Gil. “I’ll need warmer clothes, honey. I can’t tune in if I’m a Popsicle.”
“We’ll send someone out for you,” Gopher assured me, and he looked pointedly at Meg. “Can you get her some sweaters, gloves, a scarf or two, and a warmer coat?”
Meg nodded and jotted a note into her iPhone. My eyebrows rose in appreciation. I could get used to this.
After I’d ordered breakfast, Gopher placed a map on the table and discussed the filming schedule. “There are two main areas that I think we should focus our attention on: This street,” he said, pointing to a small line on the map marked
Briar Road
, “is supposed to be one of the most haunted streets within Queen’s Close. So we’ll start there and see what you guys can pick up.
“Next,” he said, indicating a shadow that ran parallel to Briar Road, “I want to get some footage down here.”
“Down where?” I asked, squinting at the map.
“This is a cavern that runs right underneath Briar Road,” he explained. “It connects to a large grouping of other tunnels and caverns that wind under most of the village and make up the close.”
“What’s close?” Gilley asked.
Gopher smiled. “That’s what they call a grouping of caves and tunnels here in Scotland.”
Gilley’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! I get it. The village of Queen’s Close! It’s named after the underground caverns.”
“Exactly,” said Gopher. “Anyway, these caverns are alleged to be teeming with strange noises, mysterious shadows, and disembodied voices. In fact, legend has it—”
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Hold on, Gopher,” I said. “It’s better if you don’t tell Heath and me anything about the history. We’re better off going in blind and telling you what we pick up.”
Beside me Heath nodded his head. “M. J.’s right,” he said. “It’ll look more authentic if we can get it on our own.”
Gopher smiled. “Okay, have it your way,” he said. “But remember that the network wants something scary at each shoot. The name of the show is
Ghoul Getters
. We’re searching for malevolent spirits here, so if you find any, try and invoke them into doing something creepy, like throwing something or lashing out in some way.”
I held in a sigh. Heath and I had had this conversation with Gopher before. Bravo wanted us to push the envelope at these haunted locations because we were competing against other already-popular ghost-hunting shows. The network honchos felt that if our show could ratchet up the creepy factor, we’d be able to hang with the other more-established programs. Gopher had taken that to mean that we should purposely antagonize any nefarious spirits we encountered. What he and the network just didn’t understand was how dangerous that game plan was.
Heath and I had privately agreed we would attempt to make contact with any spirit we encountered, and we would work to give accurate histories about those spirits to the viewing audience and encourage them to communicate with us through knocks or whispers or by showing themselves on camera, but we were
not
about to paint ourselves as targets for any violent reaction by an evil spirit. That was just stupid.
Still, we knew it was pointless to argue about it with Gopher. He just didn’t get how risky his directions were, so I bit my tongue, glancing sideways at Heath, who looked like he was doing the same, and we both simply nodded.
“Oh, and I got you that meeting with the ghost-tour guide,” Gopher told me after my food arrived.
“Today?”
Gopher nodded. “Yep. Right after breakfast. I’d like to tape it if you don’t mind.”
I did mind, but I understood that I’d signed a contract and that right now Gopher pretty much owned me. “Okay,” I said with a side glance at Gilley.
“Is there any word on the pug?” Gil asked.
Gopher nodded at Kim, who said, “We found out which shelter he’s in. It’s a small, privately run place not far from here.”
“Tell the tour guide we’re going to be late. I want to run by the shelter first.”
Several people at the table squirmed in their chairs, and Gilley made a face that suggested I’d spoken out of turn. “Um, M. J., can I have a word with you over there, please?”
I frowned, wondering why everyone was acting weird. I followed Gilley over to a corner in the large room and he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Can you maybe lay off the demands a little?” he asked.
My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
Gil shuffled his feet nervously. “Look, I’m not gonna beat around the bush with you, but sometimes, M. J., you can be a bit of a pill, and these guys are all starting to think you’re sort of a diva.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?
How
have I been acting like a diva?”
Gilley sighed. “Where should I begin?”
I folded my arms across my chest defensively. “Um . . .
any
where?”
“Okay,” Gil said, “how about starting with your insistence on approving all locations prior to shooting?”
I shook my head, completely confused. “Gilley,” I said reasonably, “I did that because I didn’t want to walk into any surprises, I mean, who knows where these bozos could have set us down! Some rickety old castle that’s falling apart and could be a death trap for us?”
“It says that you lack faith,” Gil said gently.
I took that in for a minute. “Fine,” I conceded. “What else?”
“Demanding to meet with the tour guide.”
Again my jaw fell open. “You saw what he did to that puppy!” I nearly shouted. “And you want me to sit back and not say anything?”
Gil placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Of course that’s not what I expect, M. J., but maybe insisting on it first thing was a bit over-the-top? And now you’re trying to change the schedule again, honey. I mean, have you heard yourself lately?”
I blinked at my partner, opening and closing my mouth as I tried to form words. I wanted to argue my point, but the truth was that I knew Gilley already understood it, and that he still thought I was being a little too demonstrative was sobering. Finally I sighed and leaned against the wall. “Fine,” I said after a lengthy pause. “I get it.”