The Ghost and The Haunted Mansion: A Haunted Bookshop Mystery

others feel bad about their enjoyment of a particular book, even an entire genre, are missing the bigger picture.”
    “Which is?”
    “At a time when fewer and fewer adults are reading anything, we should be celebrating enthusiasm, not condemning it.”
    Flipping the trigger on the box cutter, I exposed the sharp razor. Now I could easily slice through the tangle in front of me.
    “Be careful, Penelope. ‘My books are good and yours are bad’ is a dangerous Animal Farm game . . .” Sadie’s voice drifted off as she moved to lock the front door.
    “What do you mean?” I called.
    “For some people, ‘erudition’ is nothing more than a vehicle for hostility and arrogance; ‘good taste’ merely an excuse for condescension—or worse, censorship.”

CHAPTER 10
     
    Tossed and Turned
     
    Stories of rugged Adventure, and real Romance, rare Western yarns, weird, creepy Mystery tales and the only convincing Ghost Stories to be found anywhere.
    —Opening editorial, Black Mask magazine, October 1, 1923 (The same issue that published “Arson Plus,” the first Continental Op story by Dashiell Hammett)
     
     
     
     
    “BE CAREFUL, PENELOPE.”
    “Careful of what?”
    It was nighttime, and I couldn’t see much: a shadowy dashboard, part of a windshield, gray landscape speeding by like frames from a film noir reel. I was sitting in the front of a large van, but I wasn’t driving.
    “Be careful, Penelope,” the voice repeated. It was a male voice. Beyond that, I didn’t recognize it.
    I tried swiveling my head toward the driver’s seat, but my neck refused to obey; I turned the other way instead. Now I was looking out the passenger side window, at trees and brush; at weeds flying by.
    A large mirror was mounted to the door. High beams appeared in its reflective glass. The glare of headlights was coming up fast.
    “Be careful, Penelope,” the voice repeated. “Never let someone else drive your car for you.”
    I faced front again, saw a massive tree trunk looming like a solid, black wall.
    “Stop!” I shouted. “We’re going to crash!”
    Tires squealed like a woman screaming. Then I started screaming and—
    My eyelids lifted.
    I was lying down. The room around me was small and dark. My own bedroom. “A dream,” I whispered. It was just a dream. Yet it felt real enough to make my heart race.
    I swallowed, licked dry lips, kicked off bedcovers. I sat up, chugged spring water from the bottle on my nightstand, forced myself to take conscious deep breaths. Finally I calmed.
    Two hours ago, before I’d climbed into bed, the evening breeze had been gusty, ruffling my window curtains, cooling the air; but the night had gone still. Now the room felt warm. The bedside clock read 2:15. I punched my pillow and flopped back down.
    I tried to relax but my mind was too active. After a few minutes, I heard footsteps. My aunt was walking into the kitchen. She ran water, jostled pans.
    “Must be having trouble sleeping,” I mumbled.
    Like you.
    The cool air against my warm cheek sent a shiver through me. “Jack?”
    Well, it ain’t Humphrey Bogart.
    I smiled against the pillow.
    Why’s your auntie making a racket in the kitchen?
    “Probably brewing some chamomile tea.”
    That’s not what I meant.
    “If I didn’t know her better, I’d say she’s as disturbed as I am about our close call on the highway.”
    She’s not?
    “No. I’m sure it’s that stupid standee that’s still got her riled.”
    The cardboard cutout?
    “Sadie never could put up with being pressured or bullied into what to think, say, or read. It really makes her blood boil.”
    I considered getting up to join her, but I turned over instead. As much as I admired my aunt’s spirit of independence, the right of our customers to purchase Bang, Bang Baby was pretty far down on my list of worries right now, and I had a lot of thinking to do.
    You want some help in that department, baby?
    “Absolutely.”
    Okay, doll, shoot.
    I exhaled warm air into the newly cooled room. “Leo Rollins said there was no car behind us tonight. But I saw it in the mirror. A luxury sedan was tailgating us. Sadie saw it, too.”
    And Leo didn’t?
    “He said he didn’t. But the sedan was right behind me when I turned onto the highway’s onramp—and that road doesn’t lead to anyplace but the highway. So where did the tailgater go?”
    You’re sure the car didn’t crash?
    “That’s what I thought. But one of the state police officers who took our