Edison slowly waved the EMF meter through the air. His eyes darted back and forth between the readout and the living room walls. As he scanned the frequencies he made indeterminate little noises suggesting interest or confusion. The confusion was sincere. He had no idea how the gizmo worked.

His client hovered a step behind him, analyzing his every facial twitch with much more attention than he'd been giving to her recitation of the strange goings-on inside the condo. "What do you think, Mr. Palmer?" she whispered.

"Hard to say, Mrs. Malone," the investigator replied. She was so close that his arm brushed the side of her breast as he turned to face her. She didn't seem to mind. Poltergeists, paranormal investigations, a handsome expert in a tight Italian suit- it was all one big thrill.

"I told you," she said with a hint of coquettishness, "it's Jessica." She was in her early 40s - a bit old to be acting girly - but had unselfconscious sex appeal in her skinny jeans and loose blouse. Add in the natural blonde hair and striking blue eyes, and she made quite the package.

And the customer is always right.

"In that case, Jessica," he purred, "you'll have to call me Edison." He gave her one of his special grins, the one that suggested he was wondering what would happen if her husband wasn't home. Not the grin that suggested he wished her husband wasn't home. That would be crass.

He turned his attention back to the EMF meter. "The readings are a little unusual," he said. "but not conclusive. I'm not sure what to think."

What he really thought was that the console table and mirror were old but not antiques, the couch was from Crate and Barrel, and the entertainment center was from Ikea. The Malone home had a tony address and everything was nicely appointed, but the only sign of wealth was Jessica's suspiciously perky rack. He'd only taken this case because Bob Malone was a stockbroker and Jessica was in real estate, and they were rumored to be loaded.

It was also rumored that Bob was fond of escorts, and extremely fond of gambling. Maybe that's where the money went. Whether the family was in financial straits or just thrifty, the odds of extracting a big fee from them seemed slim.

"You know, Jessica," he said, "poltergeist phenomena are often associated with teenagers."

"Oh, I know," she said with obvious excitement. "It's like they have so much energy and inner turmoil that it unleashes psychically!"

"Yes, that's one theory." He lowered his voice, not wanting to be overheard by the teenager in question. Caitlin and her father were playing Scrabble in the next room. The girl had smiled shyly while Ed dutifully scanned the kitchen cabinets with the EMF doohickey, but Ed had sensed a huge wave of anger coming off the fourteen year old.

"Another theory is that teenagers are prone to acting out."

"Oh, not my Caitlin," Jessica insisted. She sounded a little hurt by the suggestion. "We've never had any trouble with her. And she's very bright. We're looking at prep schools for next year. She's already been accepted to a very exclusive one near Ithica."

"Yes, well, that's terrific." Sometimes there's no arguing with parents. "I'd like to talk to her alone. I still need to scan her room, and I'd like to see if the readings change when she's present. Perhaps we could kill two birds with one stone?"

Jessica sighed and led him to the staircase. "Her room is on the left. I'll send her along in a minute." She pressed her hand on his arm. "Please. Just help us, Edison."

"I will. I promise."

A harumph drifted down the hallway. Bob Malone glowered at them.

"I told you, Bobby," Jessica warned. "Your negative energy is the last thing we need right now." She smirked and added, "We get enough of it already."

"Sure, sure," he replied. "Go have another glass of wine. I just want a word. With Edison."

Ed smiled. "An excellent idea."

Jessica and Bob stared daggers at each other as their paths crossed. She disappeared into the kitchen and he moved purposefully towards the stairs. He was a big man with the air of a bully, and his tacky warmup suit didn't detract from the air of menace.

"Get this straight," he growled. "You are not getting your hooks into us. You wave your little doodad and you say your mumbojumbo, then you get out and you don't come back."

"That's exactly what I want, Mr. Malone. I just want to solve your problem, and I'm sure-"

Malone's face was getting red. "You're a fake. This whole thing is a stupid fake. This clear enough for you?"

"Are you a betting man, Mr. Malone?"

"Huh?"

"I bet you that I can put an end to this poltergeist right now. A gentleman's wager. For...twenty K? Sorry, maybe that's too rich for your blood." He crossed his arms and leaned against the bannister nonchalantly.

Anger, suspicion and greed struggled for dominance in Malone's face. "Bullshit."

"No bull. But maybe you'd prefer I come to a financial arrangement with your wife instead. And if it's not me, it'll be someone else. You'd be suprised how many psychics and ghost chasers there are in this town. Could be months of fun for you."

Malone's brow furrowed as if he working a prodigious math problem. The solution must have pleased him because he grinned triumphantly. "I'm calling your bluff, you smug shit," he said. "And when you don't come across with the money, I'll tell everyone I know. It'll be nice to see you fade off the scene."

"You're right about one thing, Bob," Ed said. "I won't be paying you."

He took the stairs two a time and found Caitlin's bedroom. It was very neat, and decorated with posters of bands he'd never heard of. A small bookcase overflowed with novels. The well-thumbed ones were by the likes of Dean Koontz, Ann Rice and Stephanie Meyer. Ed smiled at that, but it was hardly a smoking gun.

"Now if I could just find some fishing line and magnets," he muttered. Working quickly he checked all the usual hiding spots. Between the mattress and the box spring was a copy of the pseudoscience "classic" The Complete Book of Ghosts and Poltergeists. He set the book on the desk, smoothed the bed covers, and waited for Caitlin.

She entered a few minutes later with a shuffling tread that announced even her feet didn't want to be there.  But for her posture she seemed a normal kid, casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read "HPS 122 Soccer." Her long reddish-brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail.

"Mom said you wanted to talk to me," she said sullenly. She didn't even look him in the eye.

"Your Mom says you're a bright kid," Ed said. "But I think you're kind of dumb."

"What?" Caitlin gasped. Surprise and hurt vied on her face, and then anger. "You - you can't talk to me like that!" she huffed. She turned to the door. Ed snapped his fingers and the door slammed shut. Her eyes went very wide and the color drained from her face.

"What's wrong?" Ed asked calmly. "I thought you were used to objects moving around on their own. You even like to read about it."

He pointed to the desk, and the book flew towards the surprised teen. She caught it automatically. "Who said you could go through my stuff?" she demanded. She tried to glare. Then her eyes began to water and she hugged the book to her chest. "How did you...who are you?"

"I'm someone you can't kid, for starters. I know all about faking ghosts, and I've got tricks you haven't thought of." Like telekinesis, but that was another story.

"I'm not dumb," she said weakly. She moved to the bed. Ed pulled out the chair from the desk and sat facing her.

"Well, maybe not," he returned.  "But this poltergeist stuff isn't too swift. I mean, what's the point?"

"I just...I don't know." She scrunched up her face, trying to block the tears. "I wanted to upset them."

"I get that. Living with them must be a bitch. I can tell your parents don't get along, and your dad...I don't know, he seems kind of...."

"He's a jerk," she said fiercely.

"And they want to send you to boarding school. Which would also suck. But have you thought about the upside? You'd be out of this place."

"Oh, great." She laughed bitterly. "You're gonna tell me I should go to St. Anne's."

"No." Ed shrugged. "Mostly I'm gonna tell you to knock it off with the flying vases. That shit is just dumb. And you're not dumb, right?"

That earned a reluctant smile. Caitlin wiped her eyes and looked down at the book in her hands. Ed leaned forward and favored the girl with another special smile, that one that suggested he was someone her mother wouldn't approve of.

"Want to help me put one over on your dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Ed explained, "he kind of pissed me off just now. So I bet him ten thousand bucks that I could exorcise the poltergeist. If there's no more bumps in the night, he's gotta pay up. And I'll give you half."

"You'll give me five thousand dollars?" she said slowly. "That sounds too good to be true." She was smarter than her old man, at any rate.

"Well, there is a catch." Ed pulled out his wallet and inspected its contents. "Here's about two hundred bucks," he said and tossed the bills on the bed. "Down payment. I'll pay you another hundred for every ghost-free day. But if you break our little agreement, or spill the beans about it, whatever's left in the pot reverts to me.'

Caitlin stared at the money for a minute. Then she scooped it up and pressed it between the pages of The Complete Book of Ghosts and Poltergeists.

"Smart girl. Guess I'll go tell your Mom the good news." Ed stood and stretched.

"You know..." he said, and found himself at a loss for words. He stared at the floor.  "I don't want to sound...condescending or anything," he continued awkwardly, "but you've got it pretty good here.

"I grew up without any parents, even lousy ones. Never lived somewhere nice like this, or had my own bedroom. I sure didn't get the head start in life your parents are giving you. I guess I'm just saying..." He chuckled. "I'm saying count your blessings. Is that kind of dumb?" He wrinkled his nose like he smelled something bad.

Caitlin giggled. "Maybe," she said, "but it's kind of nice."

"Well, I'm kind of nice." He winked. "Ask anybody."