Ghost Detectors Volume 1. Dotti Enderle

Mom said.

      “Why can’t Cocoa watch her?”

      Mom laid down her fork. “Because Cocoa is going with me.”

      “Why can’t I go?” Malcolm asked. He didn’t really want to go anywhere with them, but he wanted to protest.

      Mom sighed and lifted her fork again. “You can go if you think you’ll enjoy shopping for Cocoa’s new dress.”

      Cocoa wrinkled her nose and smirked at him.

      Malcolm wouldn’t give up. “Why can’t Dad watch Grandma?”

      “Bowling night,” Dad said, shoveling spaghetti into his mouth.

      Malcolm sank in his chair. It was useless. He looked over at Grandma Eunice, who didn’t seem to notice they were talking about her. She had a large napkin tucked in her collar, and there appeared to be more spaghetti on her chin and fingers than on her plate.

      He spoke to her in a defeated voice. “I’m staying with you tonight, Grandma Eunice.”

      She gave him a tomatoey grin. “That’s nice.”

      His plan to sneak back to the McBleaky house might not work after all.

      That evening, Grandma Eunice sat on the edge of the sofa, watching an old black-and-white TV show. Dandy was lying on the floor, using Cocoa’s blow-dryer to balance a ping-pong ball. The ball floated on the steady jet of warm air—a trick Malcolm had shown him a few weeks ago.

      Malcolm was stretched out on the other end of the couch, tapping the toes of his sneakers together out of pure boredom. He looked at his watch. Eight thirty. What time did the mall close, anyway? Knowing Mom and Cocoa, they’d stop off for a soda or ice cream afterward. And Dad wouldn’t be home until after eleven o’clock.

      Dandy shut off the blow-dryer and let the ping-pong ball drop. It dribbled across the floor, then rolled into the corner. “When can we go?” he asked.

      Malcolm sat up. “We may not be able to go at all tonight. I don’t think I can sneak out if it’s very late.”

      Grandma Eunice threw her head back and laughed at something on TV.

      “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this in front of your great-grandmother,” Dandy whispered, pointing her way.

      “It’s okay,” Malcolm said. “She doesn’t know what’s going on.”

      “Oh well,” Dandy said. “I don’t want to go to that house at night anyway. That place was scary enough in the daylight.”

      “I just have to go,” Malcolm said. “And I’m taking my camera. If my specter detector can really detect a ghost, I might be able to capture it on film.”

      Grandma Eunice laughed again, this time slapping her leg. A bit of drool rolled down the corner of her face.

      “Maybe there’s another house we could test it out on,” Dandy suggested.

      Malcolm shook his head furiously. “No, it has to be the McBleaky house!”

      Suddenly the television shut off. Malcolm looked over at Grandma Eunice. She sat with the remote still extended in her hand. Her face looked young and bright, and her eyes were lit like someone half her age. “You don’t want to go there,” she said.

      Malcolm leaned toward her and looked her in the eyes. “Grandma?”

      “You don’t want to go to the McBleaky house,” Grandma Eunice warned. “It’s not fit for any living soul, especially little boys.”

      Malcolm couldn’t believe it. His great-grandmother had some wits about her after all. “How do you know about the McBleaky house?” he asked, still not convinced she was totally all there.

      “Because I knew Old Man McBleaky himself. And I know what happened in that house.”

      “What?” Malcolm and Dandy asked, huddling together.

      Grandma Eunice moved in closer to the boys. “It all started about 80 years ago . . .”

CHAPTER EIGHT

       THE TALE

      Malcolm and Dandy leaned toward Grandma Eunice. Her eyes looked distant. Not like before when she was in another world, but like she was remembering.

      She continued, “The McBleakys built that house in the 1920s. They had two boys, Howard and Herbert. Howard was the serious one, always worried about school and his paper route. Herbert was the joker. He made Howard’s life miserable, constantly putting dead flies in his ice cubes or fishing string across the bottom of his doorway. Howard hated it. He swore he’d get Herbert back one day.

      “Their parents were killed when they were young men. Their mother was struck by lightning while hanging out the wash, and their dad caught it in a tractor accident. Both within just a couple of months of each other.

      “The boys were left alone in that house, but they were old enough to look after themselves. Everyone thought that with the parents gone Herbert would straighten up and get serious. No sir. He kept right on pulling those awful jokes on his brother.

      “But then Herbert up and kicked the bucket himself. No one ever knew the true cause of his death. But Neb Fuller, the barber, overheard Howard whispering at the funeral, ‘Guess I got the last laugh.’

      “Within a few days, Howard started coming into town, his eyes all red and bloodshot, his face weary and tired. ‘What’s wrong, Howard?’ people would ask. He’d just lift his heavy head and say, ‘Can’t sleep.’

      “Then he started aging real fast. He became bitter and frail. He’d hobble around town shaking his fist and hollering at folks. People stayed out of his way.

      “One day, I saw a crowd by the fence of the McBleaky house. An ambulance was parked in front, and two men in white coats were hauling Howard out the door. He was dressed in nothing but his boxer shorts. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, ‘I can’t take it anymore! He’s still playing tricks on me!’ It was a pitiful sight.