Ghostfinders 03 -Ghost of a Dream

going on here.”
    “What’s really going on?” Benjamin said heavily. “I’m still not convinced by any of this.”
    “You sounded pretty convinced a moment ago,” said Happy.
    “We need to get this all done and sorted!” Benjamin said stubbornly. “Nothing can be allowed to get in the way of our play’s revival!”
    “Nothing,” Elizabeth said flatly. “We’ve waited too long for this.” She looked straight at JC. “You have to get to the bottom of this, Mr. Chance. Before the theatre’s owners lose faith and whip the funding out from under us. Again.”
    Lissa looked sharply at Elizabeth and Benjamin. “Is there a problem with the funding? Is there, in fact, some doubt as to whether this play will actually go on? I turned down a really good part in a good film because my agent said this would be a good career move! I can’t afford a mis-step in my career at this point!”
    Elizabeth and Benjamin looked fondly at each other. “Doesn’t she remind you of us, at that age?” said Elizabeth.
    “Answer the question!” said Lissa, actually stamping one small but perfect foot.
    “The funding is in place and perfectly secure,” Benjamin said soothingly. “The play will go on. As soon as the experts here have put everything to rights. Which shouldn’t take too long; right, Mr. Chance?”
    “We’re not going to have to get a medium in, are we?” said Elizabeth. “They’re always so expensive…”
    “I worked with a medium, once,” said Benjamin. “Doing the knockings for him, banging a pair of tap shoes against the underside of the stage. It was all killing effective…”
    “Was that the one who used to do the cold readings?” said Elizabeth. “And then used what he knew to get the more susceptible ones into bed with him, so he could scam their pin numbers…?”
    “Does this theatre have a history of ghosts?” asked JC, cutting in firmly.
    “Well, of course; every theatre does,” said Benjamin. “But they’re just stories. Something to pass the time backstage, when you’re not on for ages, and give the chorus line something to squeal and giggle about. No-one ever takes them seriously.”
    “What stories do you have here?” said Melody, not very patiently.
    “There’s the Lady in White,” said Elizabeth. “If you see her drifting around the dressing-rooms on opening night, that’s supposed to guarantee a good run for your show.”
    “And then there’s the Headless Panto Dame,” said Benjamin. “Nasty accident with a trap-door, back in the sixties. Traumatised a whole pack of Cub Scouts in the front row.”
    “Is she bad luck to see?” said Happy.
    “For anyone who sees him, yes,” said Elizabeth.
    “But,” said Benjamin, very firmly, “there have never been any…unexplained incidents in the theatre before this. Not one. No nasty business, nothing properly frightening, and certainly never anything bad enough to send dozens of hardened workmen running away from very well-paid work.”
    And then they all looked round sharply again as the main doors slammed shut. And there, standing before them, smiling gently, was an old man with stooped shoulders, a long brown overall, and a flat cap perched slightly off skew on his bald head. He looked to be well into hisseventies, with a heavily lined face, a weak smile, and a really unfortunate attempt at a moustache. He nodded vaguely to everyone present, regarding them all with pale, watery eyes.
    “Sorry about that, ladies and gents; didn’t mean to startle anyone. I’m Old Tom; used to be caretaker here, back in the day. Called out of a well-earned retirement to give a hand with the…current situation.”
    Benjamin looked at him suspiciously. “We didn’t hire you.”
    “Bless you, no, sir,” said Old Tom, blinking quickly. “The theatre’s owners contacted me personally, asked me to come back and help out. I couldn’t say no, not after they were so good to me, all those years. Spent the best years of my life here, looking after the old place. No-one knows the old Haybarn better than me. Seen them all come and go, I have. The stories I could tell…Anyway. Couldn’t leave the old girl in the hands of strangers. No-one knows the ins and outs of the Haybarn better than me, ladies and gents. Shall I show you around?”
    “Hold it,” said JC. “Who are the theatre’s owners?”
    “Mr. and Mrs. Lovett, sir,” said Old Tom. “The Lovetts have owned the Haybarn for generations.”
    “Why didn’t anyone buy