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Vee sat in her office, sorting through boxes. This new office was bigger than her last, and yet, as more and more of her things piled up from the move, Vee began to suspect it had less space than the other one. Had her desk grown? Her filing cabinets?

She turned her attention of the breathtaking view of the river she was paying through the teeth for. The city had a nice wild-life park on one edge, and she had managed to get an office in a building that was well sought after. She was paying more than four times what she had been paying in the old office, but honestly, who needed an apartment when you had a view like this and most of your sleeping was done in the car anyhow?

She looked at the office again and got back to work. She needed to be organized. Needed to be. Or at least, she needed to pretend to be.

John McInnes hadn't slept for two days, and tonight would be the third. He had been helping a friend move the past week, and while her couch was far from the least comfortable thing he had laid on, there was...someone, or something, in her new house that was driving him up the wall. Whispers in the night, the feeling of being watched, and of course, the incident where a whole box of books had somehow upturned itself while John was across the room unloading dishes.

He was stumped, because frankly he had no knowledge of or interest in any of the ghost stuff that kept late-night cable psychics in business. But, his friend hadn't been privy to any of these events, so John was at his wit's end and found himself in a rather upscale office building, searching for the right door. He had to call an acquaintance of an acquaintance, because he was so embarrassed to admit to any of his close friends that he was having a problem with the...supernatural. Even thinking of the term made him flinch. But, at last, he had found the door that would, hopefully, get him a solution.

He knocked, hoping that this Vee Moon person could help him. What kind of a name was Vee, anyway? John figured it was just a clever way of having an initial, like T.J. or something like that.

Vee looked up, "Door is open." The office had four rooms secondary rooms as well as the "main" room. A bathroom, a small storage space, a tiny kitchen and then a secondary office. She was in the secondary office, and stood effortlessly. She wore a tight, v-neck t-shirt under a vest with fur lining - if it was real, there was no true indication. Comfortable, black, relaxed fit jeans fit on her hips well, giving her the ability to move while still looking somewhat perfessional. A pair of impractical heels had been slipped on, but he could see the sneakers beside the desk - all of this was for show.

Boxes still piled high in the room, and she moved up to the big desk in the main room, "What can I do for you?" She shook her head, getting her brown hair out of her eyes, looking him over. For a moment she settled on his chest but then brought there eyes up. Sexist pig she was!

John looked at one place when he entered and kept his eyes firmly fixated on Vee's face. She struck him as the trustworthy type, which was a surprise since he had expected someone who looked a little...well, shadier. Nice office, even if it looked like she was moving in, and she seemed to be eyeing his chest. Odd. That's not to say that Vee had no reason to look at John; he was an athletic sort of guy, and having hiked for years he was tanned to a bronze color. But, today he was wearing a long-sleeve green jacket over a white t-shirt, along with blue jeans and hiking boots; Vee wouldn't see much outside of how tan he was.

"Ms. Moon, I presume? I'm John McInnes, I've been helping a friend move into her new house this week and I think that there might be a thing, uh 'ghost', there. Normally I wouldn't be doing this, but there's been stuff going on the past two nights to keep me up. Voices and things, and there was this box that flipped over."

He figured that would be enough for an introduction; despite what had happened, he still didn't put a lot of credence in the paranormal aspect of it all, and if Vee's rates were too high for his liking, he'd just suffer through for the rest of the week. Ghost or no ghost, it wasn't like he was living in the house, and his friend had made no mention at all of any activity so far.

Vee stuck out her hand for his, "Call me Vee. No one calls me by my surname. I find people spend too much time wrapping their head around pronouns when Vee is just peachy." Her mouth was a hard line and she pulled a tape recorder from her pocket, "Mind if I tape our conversation? It'll be kept confidential, of course." She popped it on the desk and pulled over two chairs, "Come, sit. I'll make coffee." She turned on the coffee maker, giving his hand a quick look over for a ring.

Not that she would ever sleep with a client, it would make her flirting either go away completely or stay. Nothing more, nothing less, "So, Mr. McInnes, you've been helping her move? Have you ever experienced anything supernatural before in your life?"

"What was the exact order of what happened?"

"Has your friend said anything?"

"Is your friend a man or a woman?"

"Has he/she had anything strange happen to them before?"

"Hold old is the building?"

"Are there any other living with your friend?"

John sat at the desk, glad to have coffee. He rubbed his hand before Vee had looked at it; there was no ring there. He cleared his throat and started, not really expecting this line of questioning to come so quickly.

"The supernatural is, to me, something for some people to make a living off of. No offense, Ms. Moon, er, Vee, but it's one of those things that I've just never been that convinced of. So, no, I've never had anything supernatural happen in my life.

"As far as the order of things goes, it was the first night at...11:34 PM that I heard voices. Whispering, between two people. I'm a cop, er, deputy sheriff, for my day job and I have a good memory for times, so things might be more precise than usual. It was after 1 in the morning, the same night, that I felt that I was being watched. I mean, really, really felt like that; I felt like there was someone standing across the room from the couch I was on and that person was staring at me. Then, just after 8...I want to say between 8:04 and 8:10 the next morning, that I saw a box get overturned. It was full of books, and it was sitting on top of other boxes, not on the edge of the pile either. The box looked like it was just lifted from one end, tipped over, and then pushed off of the pile of boxes it was on. That night, again, around 11:34 PM, I heard whispering again, between two people. At 2:33 AM, I was touched on the side. It felt like someone had placed their whole hand and palm on my side, near the kidneys. After that, around 4:11 AM, I felt like I was being watched again. Same as before, as though someone was standing across the room watching me."

"My friend is a woman," he noted with a glance over at the coffee machine. He was dog tired, and the little naps he'd been able to take through yesterday was hardly enough to keep him from feeling tired.

"I've only known her for the last seven years, but as far as I know, she's never had anything strange happen to her before. That would be something to ask her, really."

At her question about the age of the building, he paused and thought.

"Er, I think it's really old? I don't know buildings that well, but the house has a lot of fancy woodwork on the outside. So, maybe 1800s?"

"No, there's no one else living there; I'm on her couch for the week to help her move in, and then it will be just her. She, uh, just got out of another relationship."

Vee nodded, pouring two cups of coffee, "Will your friend let me come into her house? I don't like to go places I'm not invited. It sounds like it might be hard for me to just come in." She brought over creamer, sugar, honey and cinnamon, "I wouldn't mind speaking to your friend, if you don't mind." She looked him over, sitting back down, handing him a cup, a single spoon waiting. She sipped the coffee, "Hope you don't mind light roast. I like my coffee to have a kick and while it doesn't taste as strong as dark, it certainly tells me who's boss."

She took another long sip, "Do you think maybe you're the trigger? It's happened a time or two that someone comes into a house and stirs something up while no one else does." She stretched out her long legs, popping her back, reaching over to make a note on a piece of paper, "I don't charge for interviews with those involved. It's ten bucks an hour. I do charge overtime, but I only charge expenses if I have to travel far and my meals won't be provided. If it's here in the city, well I can pack my own lunch. I do, however require a coffee maker at all times." She paused, "Oh, and you have to pay if my equipment is damaged by anything other than work related incidences. I've hard far too many religious nuts toss my cameras around to keep that out of the contract."

He sipped his coffee black, but politely nodded to the condiments that she had brought out. Good stuff, much better than the sludge he usually made at his house. Her questions were certainly convincing him of her credibility; she was either quite certain that she was in a real profession, or else she was a great con artist.

"We both came into the house at around the same time; I had to drive the U-Haul with the rest of her things behind her, and I've been crashing on her couch for two nights now. I'm sure she would let you come over and talk to her, but if you had, uh, equipment or whatever to set up, you would have to ask her about it first. I've already talked to her about this stuff, but she claims she hasn't noticed anything unusual. The house is over on..." he thought for a moment "Bayside, off of Burnham Avenue. So, really, not that far. The coffee maker at her place is dead, has been since before the move, but there's a coffee shop just around the corner that I've been using to keep awake."

Ten bucks an hour wasn't bad, really; he could almost see it as an entertainment expense because, if nothing else, he would at least get some interesting things to talk about when he went back home.

Vee nodded, and got up. She poured the rest of the coffee into a thermos and began to pack the machine up, "I don't do coffee shops. Most of them need to pull their head out of their backside - don't know how to make a proper java." She stepped over and turned off the recorder, "What are the chances she'll let me into the house? I need to know if I'm going to bring equipment now or later? It's a big job loading my van up."

She went to the window for a moment, looking out at the river again, "I'm glad you came in here, Mr. McInnes - I hate unpacking." She turned and flashed him a smile, "But I can always help you guys unpack your friends house. What's her name, by the way?" She went to a crate with tubes in it, pulling one out laying it on the table. It was a property map. It had all sorts of marks on it - red dots, pentacles, crosses, Star of David. She located the right neighbourhood, seeing no marks, "Can you tell me which one it is, I'll mark it off with a question mark."

John pointed to a spot that was totally vacant of any markings on the map. That particular neighborhood was quite old, definitely from before the turn of the century, and most of the homes were for people who were either retired or worked from home.

"Amy would let you in for an interview, but I think it would take at least one interview with her before you could bring your equipment over; if there's a lot of it, she'll want to have some prior warning before you just put it all in her house. As far as unpacking goes," he gave her a small grin, "we could always use an extra hand. Looks like you're doing a little unpacking yourself."

He wouldn't mind having Vee help around the house, if only because she seemed like someone that John could get along with; she was businesslike, but not morose, and John liked people who kept their mind on the important stuff in their lives.

Vee nodded, "Well..." She pencilled in a question mark. It wasn't just a simple curving line. She decorated it, while not looking at it. She nodded, "Well, want to go now, or a little later, Mr. McInnes?" She flashed him a quick smile, but it was all business. Meant to look pretty with no real emotion behind it. She grabbed a bag - it wasn't a purse, and for a moment he could see inside. There were a number of things in it. Kosher sea salt, a herb of some sort, matches, a few candles and a ring of religious symbols.

He gave the contents of the bag a wary look. He may have not been an expert in the paranormal research field, but he was a cop after all; if Vee planned on using anything "extra" to commune with the spirits, he would have no choice but to blend business and personal life, and nobody wanted that, least of all John. All he wanted was some damn sleep, for crying out loud.

"Sure, we can go now. Amy should be back by now, she had to run down to the post office and get some forms sent away."

He wasn't very talkative until they reached Amy's house, but if Vee asked him any questions, he would answer them. Frankly, the coffee had been a little weak for his tastes and he needed something strong to wake him up.

Vee brought the thermos and was quiet in the car. She left the bag in his front seat and instead stood tall while they walked to the door, still wearing her heels. She should have changed, but it did give a little bit of a more professional look.

Even with John there she knocked, a card at the ready, "Amy?" When the door opened she shook the other woman's hand, "I'm Vee Moon. I work in the Riverside area of town, and Mr. McInnes was telling me he was having sound trouble sleeping."

"Oh, uh, yeah..." Amy looked at John, one brow cocked, "Are you a doctor?"

"Well, I do have a doctorate, but not the kind you would assume." She handed Amy her business card. It was plain white with black writing.

She smiled to Amy, "I just want to ask a few questions and then, if you'd like, I can do a quick investigation. If not, I can maybe help you unpack some. I understand you've just moved here."

Amy let both inside the house and turned to John with a quizzical look. John raised a hand, sending the message to wait and let Vee say her piece, and he walked to the couch he had been on the past two nights and took a seat, after he had moved his suitcase off to the side. There were boxes stacked clear to the ceiling, but most of the large furniture was already in place. The house was clearly old, from the baseboards and chair rails on the living room walls, to the ornate doorframes and knobs, to even the kitchen, which had white hexagonal floor tiles in it.

"Sorry if the place is a mess, John and I are still getting things put in their places. Um, do you want something to drink? My coffee maker is broken, but I have water and soda in the fridge."

"I think she's got it covered, Amy," John said as he gestured to the thermos, "but she's got some questions for you."

He moved a few small boxes of DVDs off the coffee table and pulled up a tan leather easy chair so there would be somewhere for Vee to sit across from Amy and John on the couch.

Vee gave her a smile, "It's fine. Mr. McInnes came into my office to find me sitting on my butt buried in boxes. I just got a new office myself. Do you mind if I record our conversation? I keep them on record, but they are kept strictly confidential." She got comfortable and pulled out the tape recorder, placing it on the table, but she didn't turn it on quite yet, "I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but I am here if you ever change your mind about something. There is no pressure, Amy."

Amy turned to John, who nodded; his experience with the law told him that Vee was doing everything fine so far. With her concerns placated, Amy focused back on Vee and gave a small smile.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to these things. I didn't even know that John believed in this sort of stuff, really! Ask anything you'd like, Dr. Moon."

John figured that Vee would tell Amy about her preference for her first name on her own. He was settling in on the couch, still adjusting to the irony of being the one interviewed, rather than the one interviewing. Hopefully, Vee's questions would be easy to answer.

"Please, call me Vee." She flashed an easy smile, but it didn't reach her eyes again. She was all business, "Now, I don't need to go into details, but I understand your move might be an emotional time for you. Have you ever seen what might be seen as poltergeist activity? Things moving when they shouldn't, strange objects appearing in a room where they don't belong? Lights flickering? A strange warmth in the air?" She reached over and touched the recorder while she started the question, half way through, actually. She knew the questions better than she knew her own hands.

She sat back, comfortable for now.

John sat quietly and let Amy answered all of the questions. This was her house, her ghost; he would be back in his own little bungalow this time next week, sleeping like a baby. Amy tapped at her chin and thought before responding.

"Umm, not for a long time, I guess. Back when I was a girl, my mom would used to ask me why the salt was always moving on our kitchen table, but it wasn't me or my sister doing it. It was always near the edge of the table, and we kept our salt shaker in the center of the table all the time. Sometimes our TV would mess up, too; but that could have been because our set was kind of old. I don't really think it was a ghost doing it, though; don't you usually have to be in an old house to have that?"

She paused and looked at John, once she realized where she was moving into. He gave her a light pat on the arm to reassure her, and then Amy continued.

"After I left for college, that was pretty much it. Nothing after that, as far as I can remember. I was actually talking to my mom about that two years ago, when we went out to lunch for my birthday? She said that after my sister and I moved out, there wasn't anything weird in the house. I guess the ghosts went away?"

"Actually, poltergeist activities are most commonly found in young women going through puberty. It sometimes continues to manifest into the early twenties... Though, no offence, you seem a touch too old." She looked around the room, "Do you ever feel cold spots in the house? Do you ever have the feeling of someone watching you? Do you ever have violent nightmares?"

She kept each question to the point and quick. There was no point in wasting time.

Amy didn't seem to be offended by the remark, but John cleared his throat and spoke up anyway.

"Amy's 26, Vee, but she looks older, I know. When we were back in college, people used to let her into bars and ask for my ID, even though she was two years younger than me."

He went back to sitting on the couch, and Amy touched his arm in a gesture of thanks for his statement, although it really didn't look like she had needed to have her age explained to Vee. In any case, she thought about the questions for a moment and then responded.

"No...I can't say I've ever had any cold spots in this house, but then again, I've only just gotten here. My old house, though; that one had this one spot in the bedroom, near my bed, that was always a little chilly. John thought it was a problem with the AC, but I swear it was cooler there even in the wintertime. Um, I can't say I've ever felt someone watching me, but what does that even feel like? How do you feel someone's eyes? I mean, well you know what I mean. Nightmares..."

She trailed off, and John put his hand on hers before speaking up.

"Vee, uh, Amy recently came out of a bad relationship. It was very," he paused and looked at Amy, not sure how much she wanted him to say, but she nodded at him to continue, "troublesome for her."

"I've been having nightmares a lot, and I moved away to get away from that and the memories."

John threw a look at the tape recorder; as much as his profession told him to keep it running, his friendship with Amy made him want to turn it off himself.