Author's Note: Finally got this chapter done. Its not coming together like I hoped, but its fine enough. At least I got it finished just in time for Lorenzo Music's birthday. Enjoy reading and please leave a review.

(All characters, places, and objects from The Real Ghostbusters do not belong to me. They belong to Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis and Columbia Pictures. Television. Also any other movies and shows listed belong to their proper owners. OC's are only mine!)

Chapter Four

Guesses and Conclusions

"You sure you want to do this Ray?" Peter didn't like the look of the small, screened object in Ray's hands.

"Positive," Ray said cheerfully. "Its only a test run."

"But you and Egon tried earlier this morning and it didn't work."

"I think we were in a place that had low activity. This may change it."

Peter sighed. He had plenty of ideas to spend a Saturday and he could be doing other things at the beach, besides following Ray. It was a great day: sunshine without being scorching, the sound of waves rolling onto the sand, the scent of hot dogs being sold in nearby concessions and a handful of pretty ladies walking around or sunbathing.

"I know you don't believe, but I think its something you should check out with parapsychology," Ray said.

"I'm only coming to keep an eye on you," said Peter dryly. "So, why're we here at Manhattan Beach to find ghosts?"

"My roommate told me there's been a rumor about some hauntings around the rocky areas," explained Ray.

"A rumor?"

"Yeah, a rumor, but it's worth a try. We can get some snow cones later too."

"Thanks Ray, but I'd rather be having a cold beer. Let's just go."

Ray grinned knowing well that Peter was there for support even if he wasn't in the best mood. They paced down into the sand and Peter quickly wedged off his shoes and socks.

"You could've mentioned where we're going; I would've worn different shoes," he said. His black sneakers were one of his few best shoes. He shoved the socks over the insoles and rolled up the hems of his jeans over his ankles.

Ray was too excited to care if he got sand in his shoes and was already trying to twist one of the knobs on the meter. He went past all the sunbathers, children making sandcastles, and picnickers with Peter trying to catch up. He just happened to look up and squinted in the sunshine at a familiar sight.

"Claire? Hey Claire!"

Peter's heart skipped again hearing the name. He shaded his eyes to see her with tiny waves running past her ankles. She looked so different to the past times they interacted. Her hair was in a high ponytail. It looked like her hair had layers since the ends were in different lengths. She was in denim shorts that looked like something from a 1960's magazine and a Yankees shirt. She was carrying her shoes just like Peter.

"Hi!" she called back cheerfully. She tilted her sunglasses up her forehead. "What brings you here?"

"Look! Egon and I got our meter made!" Ray held up the small gadget to her. It was light blue and had two dials. It was a far cry from what it would be used in the future though a ghostbusting business was not in anybody's mind yet.

"Is it working?" she asked.

"That's why we're here," said Ray. He checked over his shoulder to see Peter meandering up.

"Hi Peter," greeted Claire. She seemed a little less guarded than before.

"Miss Teague," Peter said to her with a charming grin.

"You don't have to call me that," chuckled Claire. "After being a test subject, we can be on a first name basis. So, why're you bringing the meter out here?"

"I brought it out here for a test run," Ray continued. "My roommate told me there's rumor of hauntings along the rocks.

"Really?" asked Claire. Her eyes averted to Peter who was just as incredulous like her. By that look, they agreed Ray was being duped by the rumor. "Ray are you sure. I'd hate to think that your roommate might've done this as a prank."

"At least I can try," said Ray with optimism. "You want to come with us?"

"Might as well," Claire answered.

"Then follow me," he laughed and twisted one of the dials. He went at a quick pace for the rocky ledges.

"Ray," Claire called out, "take your shoes off before they get wet." Ray listened to her and tucked them under his arm. (He wasn't wearing socks.) She smiled fondly at him but leaned closer to Peter. "You're pretty much here just to support him?" Claire whispered to Peter with a lowered voice.

"If I wasn't, I'd be having a beer and flirting with one of those sunbathers," Peter answered back. "I don't believe in ghosts."

"I don't believe in the paranormal either," Claire agreed.

"Are you feeling any of those side effects from the shocks?" Peter asked. "I was…concerned."

"Not a thing," answered Claire. "I feel fine."

They followed Ray though they didn't feel urgency. It seemed the beach was able to relax their stride. Glancing in the bright sun, Peter couldn't tell if her strawberry blonde hair was more red or blonder. Either way, he liked it.

"What're you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you had plans for Saturday?"

"I do. I have some errands to run, but I wanted to get up early and have time for myself." Claire tilted her sunglasses back down, covering up her blue eyes that Peter couldn't forget. "I've always liked Manhattan Beach even if it's a drive for me. I'm used to it."

"I'm more used to the Coney Island side," Peter answered.

"Isn't that like ten minutes from here? I'd think you'd be used to both places."

"I used to work at Coney Island for summer jobs. I know all the inside secrets of carnies because of that place. That'll explain a lot for you."

"I guess it does," Claire replied after a pause. They walked under the wooden pier that stretched above and into the sea. "Though I don't want to jump to anymore conclusions about you." She looked so genuine that Peter was touched though he wasn't going to admit it.

"Well excuse me for jumping to a conclusion about you," he said lightheartedly. "I wouldn't have guessed you're a Yankees fan. You seem more like an indoors person."

"I wasn't a Yankees fan until I moved to New York," Claire said with good humor. "You can blame one of my best friends for influencing me. As for sports, I played kickball and softball with the neighborhood kids. At least when it was summer and-."

"Hey!" cried Ray with excitement. "This should be it!" He dropped his shoes as he hurried for the rocks. Peter grabbed Ray's discarded shoes and slowly followed.

"I've been degraded to shoe keeper," he muttered under his breath.

There was a small twist of rocks going out into the sea where only the curve of waves beat upon them. Ray was carefully climbing up and across with the meter held out at arm length. The meter wasn't beeping, but he was hopeful. Peter stayed back and watched with disbelief. Claire stepped upon one rock and placed one hand upon her hip.

"Anything Ray?" she called out.

Ray didn't answer as he turned around different directions and held the meter up and down. He tapped the little screen and even held it up close to his eyes. He frowned and stepped back for the beach. Claire looked sympathetic and held her hand up for him to keep his balance.

"Sorry Ray," she said gently.

"There's another one down there," he announced cheerfully. He pointed down to another curve of rocks. "It could be that one."

"Ray," sighed Peter, "there's no way that-"

"Its worth a try," Ray said and without missing a beat went down to the next turn.

"This is going to be a long day," Peter muttered again.

"Let him try another one," said Claire. "I don't think he'll do this all day."

"You haven't known Ray as long as I have," Peter sighed again. He managed to move his feet to Claire, and they walked together again, sometimes their held shoes bumping into the other.

"He has to stop and eat, doesn't he?" she commented. "By the way, I meant to ask, but are you still troubled with the tests results?"

Troubled as in I can't get my mind off you? he thought. Then yes. Tons of women around here wearing less than you are and I couldn't care less about them.

"Do you want me to do it again?" volunteered Claire suspecting he found something wrong and didn't want to tell her.

"No," Peter answered with a simple head shake. "I'm still figuring it out. I'll have something for you tomorrow…" He lightly nudged her and playfully added, "Pinstriper."

"I guess I should ask you whether you're a Yankees fan or not?" she laughed and looked down at her shirt which bore The Yankees' cap logo.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," he said with a wink. "Should I guess what kind of dance you did?"

"I might as well tell you since its responsible for my high tolerance of pain. I simultaneously did tap and ballet for ten years. It was my childhood, and I was part of a dance studio that performed and competed."

"So, you danced to like The Nutcracker and stuff?"

"I did." Claire was proud of her skill but remained humble.

"What about that Swan one?"

"Swan Lake? Yes, I did that one too. Have you seen ballet?"

"I had a date that dragged me to one years ago. It was about some peasant girl who liked a jerk and I think it had something to do with ghosts."

"You must be talking about Giselle. I was in that one too."

"Pretty sure if you were in it, I'd be more interested." Peter took a chance at a flirtatious compliment.

"Why?" Claire asked hesitantly.

"Because I bet, you'd be a lot better than what I saw," he answered. "You look like you'd put all ballerinas to shame."

"You sound like my mom," Claire said after a pause. "She'd say things like that. Oh, Ray got to his next location." She pointed ahead to the next rock point where Ray was eagerly climbing up again. "I may have to leave soon if I want to get my errands done," she added. "I've been at the beach for almost two hours."

"You need me to help you with your errands? Peter said halfheartedly.

"Sorry, but no. I'll meet with you tomorrow like planned, but I'm glad I got to talk with you a little more. It's been a nice surprise for my day."

"Same here Claire," Peter she left a little later, he found himself more eager for Sunday. I wouldn't mind talking to you longer he thought. If I could, I wouldn't mind seeing you every day.

Sunday seemed to arrive too slowly for Peter. Looking forward to anything always seemed to take longer than it should've and meeting with someone that he'd developed a crush on was no exception. The attraction to Claire hadn't worn off, but he'd respect her desires to not consider their meeting a date. Early Sunday afternoon was busy for the diner and while eating sandwiches and the famous lemon meringue pie with cups of coffee, the two young adults were chatting about the previous day.

Claire got her errands finished. Ray hadn't found anything with the meter after she left. While being a little disappointed, he and Egon went back to work. They were still working on another prototype while Peter met with Claire. He admired her long hair again which was in a lower ponytail and the flattering jeans covering her legs. He didn't get to stare for long because Claire led the talk into the ESP test.

"So, what did you find in the results?" Claire asked after taking the last bite of her pie.

"You want honesty?" he commented dryly. Claire's frown and nod said enough. He took out the small notebook from his jean pocket. He flipped to the page with scribbled marks. "I looked through and through, but this is all I could find: you got three correct and each one that was correct was around ten apart. That's the best pattern I can find."

"That's all?" Claire asked hesitantly. She looked disappointed and that fed into Peter's frustration.

"Yes, that's all," said Peter huffily. He crossed his arms and sunk back into the booth. He was annoyed with himself. Just when he was deciding to take the test seriously, it backfired on him. He wasn't upset with Claire; she did what was needed for the test and kindly volunteered again.

"Is there anyone else on campus who's trying the ESP test?" Claire inquired. "Maybe you can exchange results and ideas?"

"No Claire," Peter said after swallowing some more coffee. "I read it in one of Ray's parapsychology books and took it from there." Claire looked so sympathetic to him that he kept divulging. "I've even had professors last spring who said it wouldn't work. You can figure out why I did it- heck, you already did. I've looked for any bit significance, but I can't find anything."

There was a long pause filled by the other chatting patrons who were oblivious to Peter's dilemma. The delicious taste of lunch and dessert suddenly felt sour in his stomach. His frustration was getting to him and he hated that. He always managed to push the negativity aside, but now? His confidence felt crushed, and his smart aleck humor couldn't hide his feelings.

"Peter?" Claire's gentle voice broke through his thoughts. "This is the first time you've actually considered the results. That's doesn't mean it's useless. It may just take more time."

"Now you sound like my mom," he said in echo to her words from yesterday.

"Then we can both voice our mother's wisdoms," answered Claire. "When you want to try the test again, I'll be there for the shocks."

"You'd do it again?" Peter asked in disbelief.

"Yes, my high tolerance for pain didn't vanish," she said with a little humor.

"You're too kind," he sighed. "No wonder you and Ray clicked."

"I wasn't kind on Thursday," she admitted.

"That was deserved on my part for being a skunk. Don't think otherwise about that." Peter wasn't going to hold a grudge on Claire. He noticed it looked like she was about to say something, but instantly shut her mouth. "What? You've got something to say?"

"It's something I've thought of asking, but I'm not sure I want to know," she said.

"About the test?"

"Sort of, but its really about one of the questions you asked."

Peter exhaled and leaned over the table to her with his arms folded. He knew what she wanted to inquire.

"Is it that one question?"

"Yes." Claire copied his position at the table as if to keep the conversation between them. "Why the… menstruation question?"

"You're not going to believe me," he said with a half-smile. "In some cultures, it's believed that women have increased psychic abilities while menstruating."

"Oh," Claire said understandingly. "It still sounds like a perverted question, but I'm glad you explained it."

"Now that I've told you that," said Peter with curiosity, "are you going to tell me about going to Tombstone, Arizona?"

Claire smiled and took a quick sip of coffee before continuing. "For starters, my family used to take trips down South and twice we went to Arizona. The second time was meeting some old family friends down in Tombstone. We saw everything: The Birdcage Theatre, Boothill Graveyard, Allen Street, The Tombstone Epitaph, and a reenactment of the gunfight at O.K. Corral. It's one of my favorite vacations we ever experienced."

"If I go there, you should be my tour guide," Peter said brightly.

"You've never been to Arizona?"

"Only for a trip to see the Grand Canyon, but nothing else. I'd like to see Tombstone…that with Tahiti, Cancun, Paris…and maybe Hollywood."

"I haven't been to the other places you listed, but if you like Westerns, you'll probably enjoy Tombstone."

"Okay, that's something else I've wondered. You have a book by Dewey Lamort so does that mean you like Westerns?"

"I love Westerns!" said Claire with excitement. She had the biggest grin as her eyes sparkled. "I remember begging my mom to get me a cowboy hat for one of my birthdays."

"I did too," said Peter sharing her enthusiasm. "After I finally got one, Mom had to pry it off my head because I didn't want to take it off. The only time she didn't bother to was when it was Halloween."

"I was a cowgirl nearly every Halloween! When I wasn't, I would be a pioneer girl with a bonnet and apron."

"Did you ever watch the Clint Eastwood movies like Fistful of Dollars or-"

"The Good The Bad and The Ugly?" Claire interjected. "I did! I love Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid."

"I remember seeing that in theaters," said Peter remembering that day. "It was amazing!"

"That's a rated R movie that came out in 1969," Claire said with confusion. "You couldn't have been old enough to see it then."

"I wasn't," Peter said with a mischievous grin. "I snuck in. Nobody caught me!"

"Just how old were you?"

"I was almost eleven. Even my parents didn't know. Would it be inappropriate to ask how old you were?"

"I would've been ten. I didn't see the movie until it was on television years later." She found some amusement in the idea of Peter sneaking into a theater even though she would've been horrified to have a child do that. "I'm glad to learn you love Westerns. It's hard to find people who like the exact same things as me."

"Yeah," Peter agreed solemnly. As extroverted as he was, it was hard to find friends who were genuine like Ray or Egon. They didn't have everything in common, but they enjoyed each other's company. "The Old West is part of American culture, an essence really. Some just don't give it any respect. At least Dewey Lamort does."

"I've been reading Dewey Lamort since his first book was published ten years ago," Claire commented. "I used to read his books between car rides to dance classes and school."

"You've been reading his stuff longer than I have. I started just a couple years ago. I've never met anyone else who likes Dewey Lamort since then."

"He's not the best author around, but I like him. His descriptions of the settings are vivid, and you're invested in the outcomes and characters."

"Say what you want, but I think he's the best Western writer of all time."

"I'm a little surprised by you," Claire said as she left a tip under her saucer.

"By what?"

"Not to be rude, but I didn't expect you to like books. You seemed more like jock that doesn't like indoor activities. I suppose we've jumped to conclusions about each other."

"Finally good at something," joked Peter. He left a tip as well.

They left the diner. They weren't walking anywhere in particular, but they kept up their nostalgic conversations. It'd gotten warmer outside, but the sky was the deepest blue and the sounds of city life couldn't distract them.

"Hey Claire, did you ever watch Davy Crockett: King of the Wild Frontier?"

"I sure did!" chuckled Claire. "I loved Fess Parker! Oh, did you watch Daniel Boone?"

"Every night! Now I watch The Bob Newhart Show."

"I haven't seen that. I don't watch too much television, but I love the show Taxi and Rhoda."

"What's Rhoda?"

"You've never seen it?" Claire laughed. "I thought you would've!"

"Why?"

"Because you sound like the doorman on that show."