Ghostfinders 02 - Ghost of a Smile

spirits!”
    “I am not your child, I am your grand-daughter, and I’m sure this is bad for me. I’ll bet there’s mould here, and all kinds of spores, waiting to be breathed in so they can break-dance in my lungs. You’re not going to find any ghosts here, Gramps. For one thing, this place isn’t old enough.”
    “Hold your peace, child,” said the old man. “You only show your ignorance. Spirits accumulate in the dark places of the world, and this has been a bad place for many years. Have I not told you the old stories . . .”
    “Yes, Gramps. Many times. But they’re only stories. Something for old men to tell, when they’re losing at dominoes and want to distract their opponents.”
    “Stories have power, child. In many ways. Trust me when I tell you, the past does not lie easily here . . .”
    “Well,” said JC. “Never let it be said that I don’t know a cue when I hear one.”
    He stepped briskly forward, and waved cheerfully to the startled old man and the girl at his side. “Hello, hello! Welcome to the dark and spooky and almost certainly haunted abandoned factory! Guided tours a speciality! Psychic phenomena guaranteed or your money back. I am JC Chance, of the Carnacki Institute for Finding Ghosts and Doing Something About Them. May I ask whom have I the honour of addressing?”
    The teenage girl had actually jumped a little when he appeared, but the old man was made of sterner stuff. He stood his ground and held his lantern a little higher to spread more light. He looked suspiciously at JC, and Happy and Melody behind him. Kim remained in the shadows, being diplomatic.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” said the teenage girl, moving quickly forward to put herself between her grandfather and JC.
    “I’m JC,” JC said patiently. “And these are my colleagues in spiritual affairs, Happy Palmer and Melody Chambers. Don’t let them worry you, they’re supposed to look like that. It helps scare the spooks. We are here to investigate the unnatural phenomena surrounding the recent death of Albert Winter. Might I inquire what you’re doing here?”
    “Don’t tell them anything, Gramps!” snapped the girl, matching Happy scowl for scowl. “We’re not obliged to tell them anything. We don’t have to justify ourselves. We’ve got as much right to be here as anyone!”
    “Mind your manners, child,” said the old man, stepping past her to nod politely to JC and his team. “You were brought up to behave better than that. I am Graham Tiley, Mr. Chance. This is my grand-daughter, Susan. We are here to make contact with the spirits.”
    “You’ve seen something?” said Melody. “What have you seen?”
    “We haven’t seen anything!” said Susan, still glowering at one and all. “But we’re . . . interested. There have always been stories about this place, and Gramps lives for all that supernatural stuff, so when the murder happened, there was no keeping him out of here. We haven’t done anything wrong!”
    “Never said you had,” murmured JC. “Let us all put our claws away and play nicely. I think we’re all on the same side here. Mister Tiley, would I be right in thinking that you have some personal connection to this place? Something that makes it important to you? You do seem to know your way around . . .”
    “I used to work here, long ago,” said Tiley. “Haven’t been back through those doors in twenty-five years and more. Not since the whole place was closed down, and I was laid off. Along with everyone else. Terrible day. All of us made redundant, just like that, after all the years we gave to the company. Can’t say I was ever happy here; it was hard, repetitive work, and nothing much to show for it. But, the more I look back, the more I miss it. Not the work so much as the security. All the familiar faces, and the regular routines, knowing where you were going to be and what you were going to be doing, at every given moment of the day . . . There’s security in that, and reassurance. I suppose you never know what you really value until someone takes it away from you.” He stopped, and looked at JC. “I don’t usually open up like that to someone I’ve only met. There’s something about you . . .”
    “People always find it easy to talk to me,” said JC. “I’m a good listener. That had better not be sniggering I hear behind me . . .”
    “You had other jobs, Gramps,” said Susan. “Some of them a lot better paying.”
    “But they were just