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“JEROME! CUT IT OUT!” Walt hissed in a strangled voice. “NOT CUTE.” Mrs. Third Floor glanced down with a puzzled expression and loosened her grip a little.

“What’s not cute? This?” Another tentacle dropped down on the side of Mr. Slick Hair’s head and then moved around in the classic “I’m not touching you” style.

“HEY!” Butterbean barked. All of the humans turned to look at her. Mr. Slick Hair came within a whisker of touching the dangling tentacle but still didn’t see it.

“JEROME!” Butterbean barked again so hard that her feet lifted off the floor. “You PROMISED!”

“You guys are no fun,” Jerome sighed from overhead. “You’re right. I promised. I’ll be good.” The tentacles shot back up into the light fixture.

Mr. Slick Hair shivered.“Did you guys feel that? It’s like a spirit just went past. I could feel its essence next to my skin.”

“YEARRRGHH,” Walt growled, scowling fiercely at the light fixture.

“See? Even the animals sense it,” Mr. Slick Hair said, glancing down at Walt. Walt hissed at him and then turned her bones to jelly and slithered onto the floor.

“No! Cat—” Mrs. Third Floor started, but it was too late. Walt had disappeared under the sofa.

“What kind of readings are you getting, Gord?” Mr. Slick Hair said. The Bald Guy fiddled with the machine and turned one of the dials. A sharp alarm sounded throughout the apartment.

“Sounds like we’ve got a ghost, Johnny,” the Bald Guy said in a flat tone. Then he turned the dial back down. Butterbean sniffed his foot. (Just dirt.)

“Oh! That’s a ghost alarm?” Mrs. Third Floor clutched her hands together.

“It sure is. You’ve got a very haunted apartment here. Verified ghost in here,” Mr. Slick Hair said, patting the machine. “These machines never lie.”

“Oh no!” Mrs. Third Floor clasped her hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Can you get rid of it?”

Mr. Slick Hair nodded solemnly.“We can. But I’m afraid it won’t be cheap, right, Gord?”

Gord shook his head and stuck his hands in his pockets.“These things never are, unfortunately.”

“Wait, really?” Madison cocked her head. “I mean, really? A ghost alarm?”

Mr. Slick Hair turned and looked at her coolly.“So. You’re a skeptic, is that it?”

“Don’t believe in the other side?” The Bald Guy crossed his arms.

“It’s not that. I mean—” Madison hesitated. Butterbean leaned hard against her leg and looked up at her with her best “something is up” face on. Madison frowned and then gave a slight nod.

“I mean, I guess I am skeptical?” Madison finally said. “It doesn’t seem very haunted to me, that’s all. And I don’t see how that machine can tell if it is.”

“That’s it. Out.” Mr. Slick Hair pointed at the door. “You’re disrupting our readings.”

“You mean the readings that just said there was a ghost?” Madison asked, her eyes narrowing. “So they’re not accurate?”

“I can’t work with her here. She needs to leave.” Mr. Slick Hair turned to Mrs. Third Floor. “She needs to take that dog and go. They’re disturbing the spirits.”

“You should go, dear,” Mrs. Third Floor said apologetically. “The spirits are getting disturbed.”

“But…” Madison started, but Mrs. Third Floor was already pushing her toward the door.

“No arguments. We’ll tell you what happens,” Mrs. Third Floor said firmly.

Butterbean tried to dig her feet into the carpet, but it didn’t stop her from being dragged across the room. Not even when she flopped on her side and went limp. “NOOOOOOOOO!” Butterbean wailed as she and Madison were pushed out into the hallway. “It’s up to you, Walt!” she cried as the door closed behind them.

Walt ducked down farther under the couch. The only thing visible was her eyes.

The Bald Guy cracked his knuckles.“Actually, the spirits don’t like having this many people around,” he said. “They should all go.”

“Right.” Mr. Slick Hair made a sad face at Mrs. Third Floor. “I’m so sorry. You’ll need to leave too. Both of you,” he added, looking at Mrs. Food. “It’s not me—it’s the spirits. You understand.”

“Mildred, I don’t think…” Mrs. Food started to object, but it was no use.

Mr. Slick Hair put a hand on each of their shoulders and shepherded them toward the door, talking as he went.“We’ll get better readings that way. And we don’t want to anger the spirits. You just wait downstairs, and we’ll let you know what we find out.”

“Uh. Okay,” Mrs. Third Floor said, bending down and looking under the furniture. “I don’t know where that cat went.”

“Forget the cat,” Mr. Slick Hair said, gently pushing her out the door. “She’ll be fine.”

“If you say so. I’ll just—”

Mr. Slick Hair shut the door in her face.

He waited, listening until he heard the elevator bell ding in the hallway.

Then he laughed.

“Think she’s got anything good in the kitchen?” He sauntered into the kitchen, opening cabinets at random.

The Bald Guy snorted and flopped down onto the couch.“That type has everything. Take whatever you think the ‘ghost’ would want.” He made air quotes.