III. "If someone calls me a ghostbuster, I frown on that"

In the opening pages of his Web site, John Zaffis makes a pledge: "I will conduct discrete, professional investigations ... you can be sure that a thorough, analytical investigation will be conducted. So feel free to call ... and we will do all we can to help you."

This sort of matter-of-fact, pest-control approach to paranormal investigation is typical of the field. "We are a client-centered agency," asserts one outfit. "The more information you provide, the better job we can do for you," advises another. Then there are the people at Black Fox Solutions, who proclaim: "We are not strictly a scientific-research organization, although science and research are — by necessity — a large part of what we do."

While some would argue that the rise of paranormal research reflects a growing distrust in science, those in the field insist that it is a science. Investigators will come to your house brandishing electromagnetic-field detectors and infrared thermometers, Gaussmeter probes and trifield meters. They will come wielding pragmatism, empirical precision, and skeptical detachment. "My goal is to bring this into the mainstream," says Derek Bartlett. "Maybe as an exact science."

He isn’t alone. Though you still get the odd investigator who will say things like, "I can hear the spirits talking to me," there are many more who insist they strive for cold, scientific certainty.

"You have to analyze the data you’re getting."

"You have to be a skeptic."

"You have to be professional."

"You have to eliminate rational possibilities."

"You have to go in looking for the logical."

Then there’s Paul Eno and his theories on quantum mechanics. "People are seeing things from other dimensions," he says. "I believe [spirits] are entities from other parts of space-time, in Einstein’s sense of the words." Einstein crops up a lot in Eno’s theorizing. "Einstein believed space and time are curved ... Einstein proved that past and future time exist simultaneously," and so on. "We are other than just ourselves," Eno adds. "We exist in numberless worlds at numberless times. We are the totality of all our existences at all times."

Only by applying Einsteinian physics to the paranormal field, Eno insists, will we free it from "the prison of Victorian sŽance-room theory." For Eno, ghosts are not dead people, they are beings from the past or the future who appear in the present due to some sort of "time slip." "We’ve spent the past 150 years trying to fit a square peg into a round hole," he says. "We are being held back by Newtonian physics when we should be getting into quantum physics. Theory-wise, it’s time to move on."

This kind of talk makes Stephen Novella bristle. "A lot of people try to wear the mantle of science to gain legitimacy," he says. "Throughout history, [paranormal investigators] have tried to attach their ideas to the latest scientific jargon. First it was electromagnetism. Then it was radiation. Now it’s quantum mechanics. Basically, there is no scientific explanation [from] quantum mechanics that in any way helps these people’s beliefs. This has nothing to do with science. It’s entertainment. It’s a fantasy life. It saves people from a monotonous, boring existence."

IV. Get thee behind me, moth

It’s getting late at the Gartland household. The lights are out. Keith Johnson is creeping around, a Bible under his arm, sprinkling the holy water he acquired from a shrine in Attleboro. "Peace of God be in this room," he whispers over the sleeping form of Gartland’s son. "Peace of God be in this room." The blessing completed, the investigators retire once more to the living room, where they wait in the dark for something to happen.

Last time TAPS worked with Gartland, they saw plenty of action. There were whispers, bumps, scrapes, a scream. They saw ghostly shadows and orbs, the airborne balls of light that supposedly indicate the presence of spirits. One of these orbs, apparently, flew up an investigator’s nose. That same night, as the team asked that they be given a sign, a chair collapsed — "Boom!" — beneath him. But not tonight.

"See if you can coerce them," says Johnson to Gartland. "Say certain things."

"What things?"

"Ask them who they are."

She does. Nothing.

"In the name of Jesus Christ, give us a sign of your presence."

...

"In the name of Jesus Christ, how would you feel if an exorcism were to be performed?"

...

"Is your name Bob?"

...

It goes on like this for a while — nothing, nothing, nothing. At one point, we all stand around staring at the flickering switch of a surge protector, which Gartland insists is an anomaly for this particular piece of equipment. Then we hear a strange clatter, which, it has to be said, could have been caused by one of Gartland’s two cats. And then, to everyone’s astonishment, something shows up in the viewfinder of the infrared camera. An orb!

The tiny yellow fleck flitters around Gartland’s head for a moment, then disappears. Then it comes back and flitters around her head some more. It’s not exactly Jacob Marley, but it’s something. The entire team gathers around the tiny screen: "There it is!" "There!" "See? There!" Even for the single skeptic in the room, it’s an invigorating moment, except ...

Except the orb sort of looks like a moth.

"That’s what they look like."

It sort of flies like a moth.

"They move like that."

An hour or so later, it’s time to leave. The lights are turned on and there, a few feet from where the orb appeared, fluttering around the kitchen light, is a moth. The sight provokes a small flurry of mumbles. Nah. Those were orbs. No doubt about it. Orbs. Not a moth. Orbs ... Maybe. In any case, it’s time to leave. First, though, there is one more ceremony to be performed. Keith Johnson has his bottle of holy water at hand, his Bible. Before we can go, we must be blessed.

"We’ve had a few incidents," explains Rich Einig, "of these things following us home."

Chris Wright can be reached at cwright[a]phx.com