GAMM and all canonical characters: Daniel, Carolyn, Martha, Claymore, Candy and Jonathan, etcetera belong to Twentieth Century Fox, Josephine Leslie (R.A Dick) NBC and/or ABC.

Sean O'Casey in any universe belongs to Mary and Amanda.

Doctor Who, Romana, K-9 and other acquaintances of theirs belong to the BBC.

Get Smart; Max, 99, the Chief, Larrabee and Mrs. Larrabee are the brainchildren of Mel Brooks, Buck Henry, Arne Sultan and Chris Hayward, and belong to NBC and/or CBS. One note: The authors do not consider the short-lived Get Smart show produced by Fox in the 90's to be canon, therefore reader's will notice one small change in character names in this story.

The authors make no money from this work of fiction.

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir Get Smart

By Mary and Amanda

May, 1970

Peering at the book his human was holding, Daniel Gregg frowned. "Madam, why are you reading the Sears Guide to Home Repairs?"

Sighing, Carolyn Muir brushed back one blonde strand of hair from her eyes and stated simply, "Because, my dear Captain, I'm sick of paying the terror tax. Martha is even learning to throw pizza dough because the kids love it, but we have to add five dollars to each bill, minimum, if the boy delivers it here. More, if we make him come up to the door, rather than going down to the gate."

"Dear lady, I have endeavored-"

"I know you have," she said, holding up one hand. "Really, by now everyone should have gotten over the ghost thing about this place; you've been very calm and not run off anyone except Claymore in months. I'll admit that even before that, you only expelled people who really did need it, MOSTLY, with a few exceptions; glaring ones."

"I was simply defending my ship - and my family, if you will permit an old seadog such a fancy?"

"You are family, in my – that is - our hearts, if nothing else."

"It would be more, if only-"

"I know - if only-" Carolyn sighed. Trying to lighten the heavy sense of hopelessness it was obvious both of them were feeling, she added, "But, you did build up quite a reputation, so we have to pay for it now. Really, I don't mind being more self-sufficient."

Scowling, the Captain faded out, muttering, "But, I mind that you must," and thinking; If only I could be a proper sort of surrogate father and more to this household!

Washington, DC

"Max, 99, we have a new potential threat from KAOS," the Chief intoned; his perpetually worried expression deepening as he spoke. "It appears they have a new agent abroad on domestic soil, and that she may be a technical genius, possessing weaponry and defensive mechanisms that our top scientists can't even begin to fathom."

"Well, perhaps if we contacted the Navy-" Maxwell Smart suggested after much thought, "-they could help."

"The Navy, Max?" Agent 99 frowned.

"Well, yes, 99. The Navy would know more about fathoms than we would, since we have not had many underwater missions. I do remember that one time with Siegfried and his submarine and then again when-"

"Max, the Chief doesn't mean-" the young woman interrupted, and then broke off, either realizing that it was pointless, or having remembered something, or both. "Chief, did you say SHE?"

"Yes, 99," the older man nodded.

"You do realize that we should be using the Cone of Silence, don't you?" Max cut in. "After all, this is a super top-secret mission we are discussing, isn't it?"

"Max, this is just a potential threat. We have not confirmed that this woman is, in fact, a KAOS agent, just that she MIGHT be. The Cone is overkill, really," Chief argued. He truly loathed the Cone of Silence. It was too chilly inside it and he could never hear a darn thing while under it.

"Chief, protocol is protocol," Max insisted.

Partly because he was amazed that agent 86 knew a word as long as 'protocol,' and partly to shut him up, Chief sighed and called out; "Larrabee! We need the Cone of Silence!" and a moment later, it was lowered over the Chief's desk.

When the two spies had crowded in under one dome opposite him, the Chief began, "The possible KAOS operative is one Carolyn Muir of Schooner Bay, Maine."

"Huh?" Maxwell Smart grunted. "What did you say, Chief?"

"I SAID; the possible operative is Carolyn Muir, of Schooner Bay MAINE, and she-"

"You want us to take the reins?" 99 shouted back, "Of CONTROL? Are you all right, Sir?"

"What's tight?" their superior responded, a puzzled look on his face. "It IS close, in here."

"You want us to close the door?" Max asked, "You'll have to wait until we get out of here! But, Sir; what about our mission?"

"You miss what?" The Chief asked, half-rising from his chair.

"What did we miss?" Maxwell Smart was looking confused again. "You haven't told us anything yet!"

"I told you this thing wasn't working!" The Chief of CONTROL was yelling now, as he pounded on the clear side of the dome. "Get this thing away from me!" He jabbed at the button on his desk, and after a few false starts, the Cone of Silence was back on the ceiling of the room. He rolled his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "I will never understand, 86, why you insist on using that thing when it never works!"

"Aww, Chief, where's the fun of being a secret agent if you can't use hi-tech equipment?"

"I think it's low-tech," 99 smiled.

"I am not sure it is ANY TECH," Chief grumbled. "Now, as I was saying, Carolyn Muir has displayed behavior suggesting she is part of a secret organization. Either that, or she's nuts, which is another department."

"What has she done?" 99 asked.

"She has been seen talking to the air in public," her boss began to list. "Furthermore, it has been reported that visitors have been forcibly ejected from her home."

"Now, Chief, that could have a simple explanation - I've been known to throw out pushy salesmen," Max pointed out, "especially after the time that KAOS agent that posed as the Spiffy vacuum cleaner salesman."

"Yes, but I did not finish. It is an invisible force that does so, and Max, you are a member of a secret agency."

"Oh."

"How did CONTROL happen on this information, Chief?" 99 asked, "Maine isn't exactly in the in the perimeter of Washington, DC or any other area we usually keep an eye on."

Their boss shrugged, "Chain of events, really. Adams, in coding, heard about it from his contact in Seattle, who heard about it from his contact in Texas, who heard about it from his contact in Colorado, who heard about it in Tennessee, who heard about it from his cousin-in-law."

"And the cousin-in-law sees things?" Max said eagerly.

"No, Max," the Chief looked tired and glanced at the notes in front of him. "The cousin-in-law, who lives in Pripet, Maine, heard about it from his sister, who happens to also live in Schooner Bay."

"Does this person have a name?" 99 asked.

The Chief glanced at his notes again. "Yes, one Jane Shoemaker." Shuffling papers, he added, "Mrs. Shoemaker also reports that the son of the suspect, one Jonathan Muir, has been cited as being un-American and made fun of one of the Founding Fathers. He may have applied the secret weapon for things other than ejecting unwelcome guests as well; he allegedly has done some 'freaky' things during Little League tryouts."

"So, we could be talking about a midget spy, too," Max frowned. "Ingenious."

"Not only that, but-" The Chief glanced at his files again. "It seems that we have another case of weather control possible also. Its been reported by several people in the area that the house she lives in - it's on a stretch of road about two miles from town, also boasts the most peculiar weather. Rainstorms that spring up out of nowhere, mostly, sometimes only thunder and lightening, and a few months ago one - Frank Donaldson, I believe that's the right name, was trying to construct some high-tension towers on Gull Cottage property, and insists he was deliberately rained on."

"Rain isn't unusual in Maine, Chief," 99 protested.

"It is when it only rained on him. And Carolyn Muir turned a hose on him, too."

"And the hose sprayed not water, but mind-control beams? Or acid?" Max theorized.

"No, Max, just cold water, but my understanding is she created quite a stir in town. She was even arrested."

"And they let her go? Seems like an open and shut case, to me."

The Chief shook his head. "No. The tower case went to trial, and at the last minute, her landlord, Claymore Gregg, cited a hundred-year-old case and a Judge Hickox approved of the argument and threw the case out of court. I understand the towers later went up in a vacant field just outside of Skeldale, Maine." Reading further in his notes, the Chief added, "Gregg may be a person of interest; he and Mrs. Muir have been overheard to discuss "you-know-who-or-what" and speak in code. However, he is one of persons most often forcibly ejected from her home."

"Sounds like a criminal mastermind in disguise to me, Chief," Max stated. "There are lots of people who say dumb things, but are Smart," the agent stopped, realizing that what he said wasn't quite what he meant. "I mean, AREN'T Smart. I mean, aren't me – I mean-"

"We know what you mean."

"Good. So can you tell me what I said?"

99 began to explain the grammar, but the Chief interceded, "I'll have an English textbook issued to you later, Max. For right now, anyone and everyone associated with Carolyn Muir is a suspect, particularly the housekeeper, Martha Grant. Dr. Ryan McNally reported suffering hallucinations after partaking of her Lobster Newburg and she and Mrs. Muir were able to capture desperate, armed prison escapees using no weapons, while her children, Candy and Jonathan were at school."

"That sounds like a good thing, Chief," Max made a face, "Unless, of course I was the criminal; which of course I am not. I only kill people, to uphold all that is good and decent in the world."

"True, but these were Americans, and she did do it by some method that defies explanation."

"I think I know what it is, Chief," Max snapped his fingers.

"What, love?" 99 raised an eyebrow and held her breath. After six and some-odd years partnered with Maxwell Smart, she was ready for anything.

"It could be magic, Chief."

"I don't think so, Max."

"How about little green men from Mars?"

"Not likely."

"Would you believe Venus?"

"Max!"

"So, exactly what is our assignment, Chief?" 99 cut off her bosses' tirade.

"We want you to go up there and observe Gull Cottage, its occupants, and visitors for a week or two and report back to CONTROL with all you see and hear. What else you end up doing depends on what you observe."

"What if we don't observe anything?" Max asked.

"86, you are a CONTROL agent. You and 99 will see something, I'm sure, and if you don't, you'll get a nice vacation."

"Chief," 99 interjected, "We can't take the twins, can we?"

"I wouldn't recommend it, no. Can your mother take them for a while?"

"She's on vacation herself. I'm not even sure I can reach her."

"Then we'll see if Larrabee's wife can take them for that long. Larrabee!" The Chief shouted into the intercom.

The agent stuck his head in the door. "Yes, Chief?"

"Can your wife take 86 and 99's twins for a week? Maybe two?"

"I don't think Max and 99 would like that, Chief."

The Chief felt one of his headaches coming on. "Larrabee, they are right here and not only are they aware that she would be, need her to while they go on a mission. Now, can she?"

Larrabee looked thoughtful. "It depends. Would Laverne stay at your apartment?"

"I hadn't thought of that, actually," 99 answered. "Why can't the twins stay at your apartment with you?"

"Oh! You want us all to stay at our place? Sure, I guess so. I just thought you wanted my wife to watch the twins, and they're at your place."

"The kids are portable, Larrabee." Now even Max was looking impatient.

"Well, if you think they won't mind, sure."

"Great. That's settled," the Chief sighed.

"What about us, Chief?" 99 asked. "We can't just camp out on their lawn. Where can we stay and still be close enough to spy on her?"

"There's a little cottage just up the road a ways, also owned by Claymore Gregg. It was just vacated a couple of weeks ago by a Mr. Cleveland Hampton. He was the principal at Schooner Bay Grammar School, but retired rather unexpectedly, and moved to Florida, so the place is vacant. We rented the house in your name, so all you have to do is get up there and move in."

Gull Cottage

"Looks like someone new is moving into Mr. Hampton's place," Martha noted as she entered Gull Cottage with a load of groceries. "Nice looking young couple, except-"

"Except what?" Captain Gregg asked as he popped in, relieving her of her burden with spectral ease.

"I could have sworn I saw the man talking to his shoe," the housekeeper shook her head.

"His shoe?" Carolyn Muir blinked. "Maybe he was just taking a rock or pebble out of it?"

"No, he was holding it to his ear, like it was a seashell, or a phone," Martha shook her head.

"Just what Schooner Bay needs-" Carolyn sighed.

"-Another barmy interloper," the ghost huffed in conclusion. "Well, I'll just-"

"Don't you dare," Carolyn Muir warned the spirit immediately. "Insane or not, until they make trouble, there's no reason to run them off, Captain."

Giving her an innocent look, he shrugged, "I never said I was going to run them off, however, an ounce of prevention can be worth ten pounds of cure."

"I thought it was only a pound?"

"Inflation, dear lady."

"Inflation or no, I don't want you bothering them," Carolyn insisted. "They are probably just here for a vacation, or something, anyway. Claymore told me right after Cleveland Hampton moved out that he wanted to try temporary rentals for the summer."

"But, you don't know for sure?" The spirit asked.

"I'm about 90 percent sure," Carolyn said, thoughtfully.

"In that case, I better just pop into town and make sure about that other ten percent," the ghost answered.

"Must you?" Martha asked, "We could wait, and find out when they visit-"

"What?" Thunder rolled.

"Cool your jets, Captain, Sir," Martha answered smartly. "You've been out of circulation, too long. Asking new neighbors over to tea or for coffee is what one does."

"I suppose," the ghost huffed, "But must one do it at Gull Cottage?"

"Yes," the two women said together.

"In that case, I am going to go see Claymore," the ghost was insistent.

"Captain-" Carolyn protested.

"You said I couldn't bother our new neighbors - asking me not to bother Claymore is too much!" the seaman answered with a smirk, and disappeared.

"But - he hasn't done anything - lately!" Mrs. Muir told the air.

"Don't worry," Martha patted her employer on the back, "Claymore Gregg needs toughening up from time to time. Your ogre won't harm him; at least, not permanently."

"He's not an ogre," Carolyn protested, then realized what the other woman had said and added, "OR MINE."

"I know," Martha grinned," that he isn't - an ogre, but old habits die hard with me, and I say it with love. Even HE knows that!" As Martha headed toward the kitchen to finish putting away the cold things, Carolyn was sure she heard her mutter; "He is SO yours."

"I think I am going to go work for a while, Martha," Carolyn shouted to the air in general. "I need to get something done today, and my story is being stubborn!" So saying, she climbed the steep flight of stairs to the Master Cabin, but no sooner had she reached her bedroom/office and sat down at her work desk, than the ghost of Gull Cottage appeared noiselessly behind her.

"Back so soon, Captain?" she asked without turning her head. "I thought you would be a while."

"Claymore was with other people. While I do enjoy bothering him, it is less effective when he is so hampered. And your perception for knowing when I am on board is getting better by the day, my dear."

"Funny," she answered, giving him a warm smile. "And thank you. But you don't let that bother you when you appear only to me in front of others."

"When I appear to only you, I am on important business."

"Right," she laughed, "Like last fall when we had that wrestling match in the library over the vulture book? Deke Tuttle still gives me strange looks."

"Had you but kept your promise, Madam-"

"I was worried about you."

"You also wanted the PTA meeting at Gull Cottage."

"I wasn't thrilled about it - but Mrs. Post pushed, and I couldn't think of a good reason why not. And it WAS important."

"I let you have it here, didn't I? And two meetings since the first."

"Yes, and I do thank you, very much, but I still get strange looks."

"Dear Lady, you moved into a 'haunted' house. Whether I ever haunt again, in the scary sense, I doubt the attitude from the local busybodies and hens will ever completely stop. Does it still matter that much to you?" A troubled look flickered across his handsome face, and was gone.

"No, not all that much," she answered slowly, "Just sometimes. Nobody wants to be considered too odd, you know? I mean, to the folks in town I will always be "that writer lady" who "lives in the haunted house," but I'm not fond of this family being thought of as being too - different."

"I will endeavor to do better," the ghost said formally. "But I will not apologize for wanting to keep an eye out for my family."

"And that's as it should be," she declared.

"Good," he nodded. "Now, before Martha came home and told us about our new neighbors, you were saying something about your characters "not behaving" in your new story. If they are still being recalcitrant, would you care to attack a new section of my memoirs? IF the other is essential first, maybe I can help?"

The writer sighed. "I should work on my story that is due, but it isn't jelling."

"Your writing is superb. What isn't jelling? What are you supposed to be writing about?"

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "My editor wants a spy story for the October edition. I tried to tell him I know nothing about the whole spy genre; that I don't even follow the James Bond movies, but he wouldn't listen. He just said "write a good romance and throw in a mystery"."

"Romance can be a mystery," the seaman noted, pulling his ear thoughtfully.

"I think he means a REAL mystery," she blushed. "You know, X gets killed. Y or maybe Y and Z in this case find out why and who; or maybe Y investigates, and in the process runs into Z and a romance develops. The problem, is I have never been good at plotting or solving the why, how and who of the blasted stories - or solving the ones on TV either. I never guessed the killer right once on Perry Mason."

"Usually, it's the person you least suspect, aside from the accused, that is," the Captain opined.

"I don't want to write formula," Mrs. Muir argued.

"I read a play once," the ghost pondered, "that had a writer in it, as a character, I mean, and he said that what he did was make up a bunch of cards with a character name and an occupation, and throw them in a hat, and then made up more cards with motives, and threw them in another hat, and the means of murder in another hat. Then whenever he was stuck for an idea, he would pull one card from each hat and write a story based on what he pulled out. He maintained the rest was mere details. I'm not sure I believe that entirely, but would it be an idea for you?"

"I'm not even sure I want a murder, just a mystery," she sighed. "I mean one other than a mystery about what to write!"

"That could have potential, a writer driven to homicide in order to find a topic," the seaman's spirit quipped, wishing he could kiss the frustrated frown from her face.

"Don't tempt me."

Up the road:

Max looked around the cottage, at a loss about what to do with himself. Hampton's place had come essentially furnished and 99 was busy fluttering around turning it into a more homelike setting. Even though they would not be there long, making it look like they would be was part of their cover. Now, what was her name again for when they were introduced to other people? He couldn't call her "99." That would give away that they were spies, not to mention sound weird.

"What we need to do, 99," he announced finally, "is find a way into Gull Cottage. Now, my thoughts are, wait until it's dark, then we will go over there and do surveillance until we can determine at what time the family, if you can call them that, goes to bed. Then, we see if they leave anything unlocked. If not, there's always the Handy Dandy Super Secret Universal Lock Picker."

"We could just be neighborly and go over there during the day to introduce ourselves."

"Well, yes, there is that approach."

"Might be the best one," 99 said thoughtfully. "If it were a few days from now, you or I could go over and ask for directions to - somewhere, or maybe I could ask to borrow a cup of sugar or something. Remember, they might be curious about us, too. I don't think sneaking over there immediately is a good idea. We just need a good way to get IN the house, first."

"But, 99, Agents never get lost, so how could we need directions anywhere?"

"Love, they don't KNOW we are agents, remember?" she smiled. "Now let me think. We would know where town was - we had to pass through there to get here. Maybe ask them where the best places to eat are? Or see if the beach is private - can we walk there. Or whether it is safe to go swimming, or maybe we need to borrow her phone? Does our cottage have one?"

"I brought my shoe."

"No, Max - I meant if our cottage doesn't have a connected phone, we could use that as an excuse to come over and use theirs from time to time and see what's what. I mean, we would hardly pay to have one connected for a two week vacation."

"Considering what Control is paying Mr. Gregg, I would expect it to come with one installed."

"Well, we have to find it," 99 said, glancing around the room. "Oh, here it is, on the desk." She lifted the receiver gingerly. "Hello?" She pressed up and down on the phone cradle several times. "Nothing, Max."

"This is ridiculous!" Max blustered, "What if we wanted to call someone? Like the twins?"

"They are too young to answer the phone, love."

"You know who I mean. Larrabee and Mrs. Larrabee."

"It is actually better that the phone isn't connected," she answered. "Besides, you know and I know if there were a real emergency, we could use your shoe phone. No 'real' phone gives us the perfect excuse to go over to Gull Cottage, get inside."

"It's still ridiculous that he didn't hook up the phone. Unless - of course! Claymore IS an agent of KAOS and knows I have a shoe phone!"

"Could be," 99 shrugged a well-formed shoulder. "We don't know that much about him. To be honest, I was surprised he didn't come up here and show us around. He just handed us the keys and pointed us in the right direction."

"He knows that five minutes in our company would blow his cover," Max nodded.

"Maybe," 99 nodded, but from what the Chief said, I think Carolyn Muir is the one who really needs investigating. We just have to get in Gull Cottage. I don't know why they call it a cottage though, it's a big house."

"I still think we ought to sneak," Max answered, deep in thought.

"It's too soon. These small town folks are nice, I think, but they can be suspicious of strangers. We need to work out something, though. It's after three, and the Chief will be expecting our first report this evening. I think we need to go over, introduce ourselves and ask to borrow the phone."

"Hush, 99, I'm thinking," Max answered. "I know - we'll go over, introduce ourselves, and ask if we can make a call."

"To who?"

"Larrabee and Laverne; we need to check in on the twins anyway. And don't forget - we reverse the charges."

"Is it all too simple, Max?" 99 wondered out loud, "KAOS must have known we'd be here monitoring the place, so could they have arranged for us to need the Gull Cottage phone?"

"99, sometimes the best things in life ARE simple."

"Right, Max," she smiled, and reached over to give him a kiss.

XXX

The two spies were barely settled when there was a knock on the door. Regretting that he had not packed the intruder alert and visitor screener, (even though it only worked about half the time) Max grimaced and put his eye warily to the peephole. Hopefully, KAOS agents were not on the other side, waiting to blind him with the latest diabolical weapon or even an old one that had proven more reliable than the intruder alert and visitor screener.

Drawing back, he whispered loudly, "I can't be sure, but it looks like our quarry has come to us. Two women are out there, and they match the descriptions of Carolyn Muir and Martha Grant."

"That's great, Max!" 99 enthused. "We won't have to make up an excuse to meet them."

"True, but they are getting into OUR house before we get into THEIRS. That gives them the advantage, and I did want to make contact with our – our - contact, Jane Shoemaker, before we met our suspects."

99 thought, and then suggested, "Well, we do have the home-court advantage with them coming to us? You better get the door, Max. "They've seen our car; they know we are here."

"We could be out exploring, but I guess so." Crossing the room, he opened the door. Too quickly, and clunked himself on the nose.

Rubbing the offended appendage, he peered at the pair of startled women standing on the stoop. Speaking as if he had a cold, Max began; "Hello, I'm Max Smart and you must be Mrs. Muir."

"How did you know?" Carolyn blinked.

Hoping to rescue the situation, 99 rushed over, "I'm Susan, Max's wife. We just heard that our nearest neighbor was Mrs. Muir, so we figured you must be her. You are, aren't you?"

"Well, yes."

"That's small town life for you," Martha noted ruefully.

"Of course YOU could have been Mrs. Muir," Max turned to Martha, "Except you aren't wearing a wedding ring."

"Don't remind me!" the housekeeper rolled her eyes.

"Isn't it hard to forget?" Max frowned.

"No, it's just I don't like being reminded that I'm still-" Martha trailed off. "Well, we just wanted to welcome you to the area and brought you these." She held out the cookie platter.

"Right," Carolyn echoed. "Welcome. We're glad to see you."

"Won't you come in?" 99 invited, pulling her husband back into the house. "I'll fix some iced tea or lemonade to go with the cookies." She gave a slightly overly bright smile as she took the platter.

"I'll help you in the kitchen, N – er - Susan."

"Uh, no, that's okay, Max," 99 gave her husband a look. "I know you aren't really comfortable in the kitchen."

"But we were going to re-decorate it anyway!" Max protested.

"So you're moving in, not just renting for a vacation?" Carolyn blurted in her confusion. These people were, well, the only word she could come up with was strange.

"No, just visiting here for a while. N - Susan was talking about our kitchen at home. I had a little accident making cocoa one evening."

"I see," Carolyn nodded. "How long will you be here?"

"Two weeks," 99 said.

"Three weeks," Max said, simultaneously.

"I mean three," 99 blurted out, just as Max corrected his statement to "two."

"We haven't decided, either two or three," Max stated. "However long we need."

"To do what?" Martha frowned.

"To relax," 99 finished. "Stress at work, you know."

"What do you do?" she asked.

"Greeting cards. We both sell greeting cards," Max announced. With a triumphant tug, he snared the cookie plate and headed to the kitchen.

"Be right back," 99 sighed and followed him. Once alone, she whispered, "What are you doing?"

"I need to check these and see if they are just cookies or if there's poison, or truth serum, or any other mind-control substance in them. We can't just go putting anything at all in our mouth, especially from enemy agents."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I guess I could taste one."

"Max!"

"Just kidding, 99," actually I have a poison and foreign matter testing kit in my shoe."

"I thought your phone was in your shoe."

"My OTHER shoe, 99."

Reaching down, he pulled off a shoe, tried to remove the heel, and failed. Then with a frown, began to shake it. "Would you believe my other shoes?" he finally asked.

"Oh, Max!" 99 shook her head, and quickly pulled out some frozen lemonade they had bought in town, a pitcher, opened the can, and added cold water. "I should make coffee," she sighed.

"Need any help?" Martha called from the other room.

"No - no thanks!" 99 answered, "Max, what are you going to do?"

"Me? 99, we're both on this case!" He shrugged, broke off a tiny piece of cookie, and put it in his mouth. "Here goes nothing." Immediately his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he gave a long sigh.

"Max!!" 99 panicked.

"Why are you yelling, 99? They'll hear you!"

"I thought you were poisoned!"

"Not at all, but these are the BEST cookies I have ever tasted!"

"I thought MY cookies were the best you have ever tasted."

"These are the SECOND best cookies I have ever tasted," he answered, without skipping a beat. "You've never made this kind; before we arrest them, get the recipe. But if poison is a part of the recipe, you don't need to write that down."

"We don't know that they have done anything yet, Max. You really feel all right?"

"I'm FINE, 99. Well, then, get the recipe before we leave. They'd make a great bribe the next time the Chief gets mad at me."

Wryly, 99 silently concluded that she'd need to learn fast, and keep all the ingredients on hand permanently.

Just as the Smarts returned from the kitchen, now laden with glasses, plates, and a pitcher, Captain Gregg appeared in the middle of the room.

Both the women suddenly looked startled and anxious, a fact that Max took note of even as Daniel assured them, "They can neither hear nor see me unless I wish it, but I did wish to observe THEM." Casting a long look at Max, he added, "I suspect if ignorance is bliss, this fellow is the happiest man on the planet." Both women rolled their eyes, and Carolyn choked back a laugh.

"Did we miss a joke?" 99 asked.

"Uh - no," Carolyn stammered. "I was just, thinking about a story I am writing and something struck me funny. I need to change it."

"Oh, are you a writer? What is your story about?" 99 asked innocently.

"My publisher wants a romance, with a mystery thrown in, or maybe it's the other way around." Carolyn shrugged, "I was thinking about maybe doing a story about spies who work together and become romantically involved, in spite of themselves."

"Are you sure that's realistic?" Max asked. "I mean, there's rules about that - I mean-" his eyes rolled in 99's direction, "I mean, you can, certainly, but then you have to get permission to – ah - continue, get married, have twins-" He felt 99's elbow in his rib. "-I mean children-"

"I think it's a great idea," 99 burst out. "I'd love to read it."

"If it ever gets written, much less sees publication," Carolyn sighed.

"I'm sorry," the younger woman answered immediately. "We shouldn't keep you from your work."

"I like her," Daniel Gregg, who had remained silent, stated. "Though HIM I am not so sure of."

For a moment, Carolyn tried to think of a way to answer both of them, then gave up and replied, "Oh, it was going nowhere, really."

"You need to keep trying," 99 smiled. "I'd be happy to help. Just yell and I'll come over and let you bend my ear."

"That would hurt, N - Susan," Max frowned.

"I think that's just a figure of speech, usually," Martha remarked, shooting the Captain a look. He might decide to try bending the next unwanted stowaway's ear, or Claymore's, literally.

"Oh. Well then-" Max paused. "Then we would love to come and visit, and - and talk about writing. We could come tonight."

"Do you write?" Carolyn lifted a brow.

"No, but, we're great listeners, and we want to see inside your house."

99 dug her husband in the ribs again. "We drove by it, coming up here," she added hastily. "It's beautiful. Claymore Gregg's great-uncle certainly was talented."

Preening, the Captain declared, "Other than a poor choice of mates, I suspect SHE is bright. For her sex, that is." Then his face darkened and Carolyn heard thunder. "But that blasted sea-slug is not my nephew, and he certainly isn't great on any counts!"

"Captain Gregg certainly is – er - was a marvel," Carolyn tried to both answer one person and calm another in one sentence. Stop that!" she said almost inaudibly, and the thunder faded.

"Did - did you just tell the thunder to stop it? Sounds like it heard you!" Max cut in.

"Don't be ridiculous," Carolyn laughed, "Just a coincidence."

"Yes," Martha nodded. The weather up here can get a little crazy – I've thought so from the first." She smiled. "Now, I suppose we should get going-"

"-Until tonight," Max added.

"Madam, I am not sure I want them in my house," the ghost protested.

"Not sure how we can avoid it," Carolyn muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" 99 and Max said together.

"Just thinking about the story, Carolyn bluffed.

"You want to avoid your story?" 99 asked, confused.

"Not really. I guess, but if you have any ideas, be sure and let me know," Carolyn smiled.

"Right," Martha nodded.

"I'll get your cookie platter back to you tomorrow," 99 added, then frowned. "Or tonight, if Max doesn't stop eating the cookies," she added, as her husband reached for yet another one.

"Don't worry," Martha waved her words off.

"Thank you," the two agents said together as Carolyn and Martha stood and may their way to the front door.

"So, what time will you be over this evening?" Martha asked, "Clam chowder takes a little time, unless you feel like Lobster Newburg?"

"Uh, well, we hate to ask for anything complicated-" 99 began.

"Yes, we'll take the chowder," Max cut in, thinking of the reports that had said people had 'hallucinated' after eating the Lobster Newburg.

"Great," Carolyn smiled. "We'll see you about six then? My children will be home from school by then and you can meet them."

A few minutes later, the Smarts departed.

END PART ONE