The Ghost and The Haunted Mansion: A Haunted Bookshop Mystery

was shaking!”
    Seymour’s expression was no longer alarmed, and I stopped chattering. He shook his head. “Listen, Pen. I think you had a—”
    “Don’t say it!” I folded my arms, lowered my voice to a rational volume. “It wasn’t a nightmare. I heard it, I tell you.”
    “Right. Okay. Maybe you did hear a, uh, giant, but he’s gone now.” Seymour was now gazing at me with excessive sympathy, as if he were once again breaking it to me that we had no romantic chemistry.
    “So where did he go?” I asked flatly.
    “Maybe back to the Valley along with the original Jolly Green Giant to grow more vegetables. Ho. Ho. Ho!”
    I knew the man was just trying to lighten the tension, but I wasn’t in the mood for Chuckles the Clown.
    Seymour noticed my scowl. “Sorry. You want me to stick around?”
    I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”
    Seymour bid me goodnight again and closed the door. Warily, I lay back down, but I didn’t close my eyes, just peered unhappily at the thick velvet canopy above me.
    “Jack, where are you?” I whispered.
    I’m here, baby.
    His voice sounded far away, but I held on to it like a lifeline. “Stick close, huh?”
    Easy does it, doll. Remember, you got nothing to fear from the dead. It’s the humans still walking around on God’s green earth who should scare the living crap out of you.
    “At the moment, I’m scared of both, okay? Did you hear the noises?”
    You’re my ears, doll. That’s the way it is.
    “So you did hear?”
    I heard. But I can’t explain it to you. The ghost breezed past my ear. Get some sleep. I can tell you need it.
    “I can’t sleep. I’m too freaked out.”
    You want me to sing you a lullaby?
    “You know any?”
    Take me out to the ballgame, take me out to the park—
    “That’s not a lullaby.”
    It’s the only ditty I know all the words to.
    Quiet descended.
    “I still can’t sleep.”
    Okay, then get your keester up and start working.
    “Working?”
    Sure, baby. I don’t have arms and legs. You do. Start searching this dump for more clues.
    “Fine,” I said, throwing the covers aside. But before I got out of bed, I heard what sounded like a sob.
    “Did you make a noise just now, Jack?”
    Not a peep.
    Then I heard it again: a woman’s sob. The sound was filled with misery, a cry of anguish. I switched on the bedside lamp, fully expecting the sob to vanish. But it only got louder. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Then I crossed the rug in bare feet, trying to locate the sound. It seemed to come from everywhere.
    “Miss Todd? Is that you?” I called. “Why are you crying?”
    The sobs intensified.
    “If it is you, Timothea, please show yourself!”
    The sound faded until I had to strain to hear it. Finally all I could hear was the accelerated beat of my own heart. Then I heard heavy footsteps in the hall outside my door. I pulled my slacks on, tucked in the oversized T-shirt, and shoved my feet into my flat sandals.
    I tiptoed to the door and pressed my ear against it. There was definitely someone or something on the other side of the wood. I held my breath, closed my fingers around the glass handle, and ripped the door open.
    I heard a scream a split second before I was blinded by a blazing light. Then I screamed, too.
    “Pen!” Seymour cried. “You scared the hell out of me, opening the door like that! I thought you were—”
    “The flashlight! It’s shining in my eyes!”
    “Oops. Sorry.”
    Seymour lowered the Maglite until its beam illuminated the carpet that ran down the center of the hall.
    “What happened to the electricity?” I asked, trying to rub the white spots from my eyes.
    “The lights flickered and then went out.”
    “The light in my room is working fine—” I faced the bedroom I’d just left and saw it was now completely dark in there, too. “Well, it was working. When did the electricity fail?”
    “Right around the time I heard what sounded like a woman crying.”
    “You heard it, too?”
    “Listen!”
    The sobs began again. Then the lights flickered in the hall and came on. “Thank goodness! At least we don’t have to stumble around in the dark—”
    “Holy crap! Look at the clock!”
    I followed Seymour’s flashlight beam to the old grandfather and gasped. The hands on the face were spinning like propellers. Then the clock began to chime, its repeated gongs filling the narrow space.
    “Let’s go!” Seymour began pushing me toward the stairs. He didn’t