Prologue: Old Man Mauldin

Five and a half years ago

“It’s freezing out here. I don’t know why I couldn’t be the lookout for once,” Jacob Magnum complained, shivering from where he leaned against a tree.

“Because you—Get on the ground!” Phineas Farris hissed, glancing over from where he lay on his stomach while peering through binoculars. “Do you want to be seen?”

“Aw, do I have to? The leaves are wet after drying out over the winter. It’s nasty,” the twelve-year-old commented. Once slightly pudgy, the blue-eyed blond had lost his baby fat over the last few years as he ramped up his interest in sports.

“Leaves fall in the autumn, get buried in snow during the winter, and get wet when the snow melts in the spring. It’s nature. Get used to it,” the bespectacled sixth-grader explained. Short and scrawny, Phinn had dark brown hair and brown eyes that already required glasses for nearsightedness.

“And we barely get any snow around here,” Dusty Pinder pointed out, voice crackling over the walkie-talkie. Brown-haired with green eyes, and the smallest, most dexterous of the group, Dusty usually got the job of sneaking into tight spots.

“Fine. Around here, it rains more in the spring,” Phinn said before switching to business. “Any sign, Second?”

“Nothing yet. Kinda hard to see when the clouds pass by the moon.”

“We need one of those ectoplasm things,” Jake suggested. “I bet its chill will frost up our binoculars.”

The three sixth-grade students would usually not be allowed to investigate a mysterious occurrence on a Thursday night. However, with tomorrow being Good Friday, the kids had an early start on their spring break/holiday vacation from John Marshall Elementary School. Under the pretense of a sleepover, the trio of youngsters was on the hunt for answers when they should have been staying at Dusty's house.

Uninterested in athletics and without many hobbies, Phinn had started poking into other people’s business a little over a year ago. Unable to say no to his oldest friend, Jake reluctantly agreed to help out as the meddling turned into solving minor crimes around the neighborhood. A sociable boy, Jake also grew to enjoy the satisfaction of helping his schoolmates or others, which usually overcame his worrywart ways. A physical daredevil, Dusty shared some of Phinn’s curiosity about criminals and supernatural phenomena. After observing and eventually assisting Phinn and Jake in catching a small-time bike theft ring on the northeast side, the bright and athletic kid joined up. The trio eventually began calling themselves Busybody, Inc. last summer, after Phinn gave in to his partners’ demands that they needed a proper name.

The three grade-schoolers swiftly fell into defined roles for Busybody, Incorporated. As the brains and primary founder, Phinn assumed the role of lead investigator. Dusty handled records and research while also performing sneak-thief duties in the field. Jake dealt with the more athletic endeavors and played the muscle when they needed a sleuth to look imposing.

Currently located at opposite ends of Monroe Park, which sat directly behind Jake and Phinn’s backyards, the two boys were hiding in the small tree grove at the south end of the park. As their lookout, Dusty sat on the tall slide over at the playground on the park’s northside. Despite Jake and Phinn being closer to their target, Dusty’s high vantage point and binoculars provided a better sightline of the second home from the intersection of Monroe Avenue and 36th Street.

“And stop your whining. Dusty doesn’t have protection from the breeze like we do,” Phinn reminded, gesturing at the trees around them. He ignored the special device request.

“I guess,” Jake muttered before moving on to another thought. “It’s also lucky that they didn’t tear the old playground down last fall as planned. Those new plastic playground sets don’t go as high as the old metal slides. Not to mention their swings suck and the big wheelbarrow will be replaced with some crappy, boring thing.”

“The danger and accidents are why they’re replacing the old style,” Phinn agreed.

“Well, it’s a good thing that Mrs. Annable led that campaign to keep our park for now,” Jake stated, emphasizing the our part of his comment.

Phinn nodded. If only Jake knew that he’d secretly organized the campaign that led to their local alderwoman's action. A campaign of strategically selected and targeted flyers around their Monroe Park neighborhood and the greater Marshall School area had riled up opposition to change from both sides of the political spectrum. Using specific keywords and phrases triggered responses from conservative, liberal, and independent voters. If anything, the ease of his puppet mastery led Phinn to decide he’d be bored in politics and would rather stick to investigating.

Still, the result had been worth the experiment. It left their daredevil’s favorite slide in place for another few years.

“Hey, if you’re cold, I can replace you, Second,” Jake offered, hitting the talk button.

“Not happening. You’d only get distracted by the view of Abby LeClaire’s bedroom,” Dusty noted, causing Phinn to nod wholeheartedly.

Besides needing Jake for muscle, Phinn had also taken into account the LeClaire home. Situated on the other side of the road from their objective, the home of their classmate and her older sister sat directly across from the south end of the park. Approximately three years older than them, Abigail had long been one of his crushes. However, Jake’s older sister had ordered her brother to leave the attractive sixteen-year-old alone.

“You can see it?” the smitten boy asked.

“Oh, yeah…Wait, I think she’s….Yep, Abby looks to be getting changed,” Dusty relayed.

“What?!” Jake exclaimed, jumping to his feet. The thought of the gorgeous blonde possibly showing some skin had his emerging hormones blazing.

After raising his binoculars to check the second story of the LeClaire home, Phinn shook his head at the dark windows.

“Stop teasing him, Second,” Phinn said into the device before turning toward his nearby co-best friend. “Smarten up. You’re being played. Nobody is upstairs.”

“What? I am? Dammit, Dusty!” Jake roared into the walkie-talkie.

“Use the codenames!” Phinn hissed, rolling his eyes as their hidden partner’s cackling filled the airwaves. “Both of you need to focus on the job. I expect better from at least one of you.”

“Sorry, First,” came the crackling apology.

Ten minutes passed. Oddly, nothing stirred in the neighborhood. Nobody seemed to take their garbage out, walk their pet, or leave or arrive. Eerie silence filled the neighborhood, with the only occasional sound coming from the Sellwind Realty sign moving in the breeze on their target’s front lawn. Checking his watch, Phinn saw that it had only reached 8:15. Something, anything had to liven up the neighborhood soon.

“What if it’s true?” Jake asked, breaking the silence. “What if Old Man Mauldin is causing the rattling, moaning, and flickering lights? His spirit is angry.”

“Angry about what?” Phinn spat.

“That nobody noticed he’d died for days!” Jake reminded. Their prickly, elderly neighbor’s body hadn’t been discovered in his bedroom for five days. “That’s why nobody will buy the house. His ghost scares them off!”

“Allie only said that she noticed faint light and movement,” Dusty recounted about the younger LeClaire sister. “Her bedroom faces Monroe Street.”

“People said it’s his ghost. He died in that upstairs bedroom,” Jake stated.

"Wally's the one who cracked the ghost joke. That's what he does," Phinn reminded him about their grade's class clown. "We're only looking into this because your sister and her friends have heard or seen stuff, too."

“Who cares what Libby heard? Todd insisted that he saw something. He told me during gym class,” Jake added.

“Todd Haldorn is full of shit. He’s an attention-seeker. You need to start ignoring what he says, Third,” Dusty ordered. “Research shows that paranormal activity is not–”

“Maybe we should wait!” Jake suggested, cutting off his friend. “You know, only do a recon tonight. Gather some evidence. Perhaps we could ask a few neighbors what they’ve seen or heard. Then, next week during our break we can–”

“We can’t wait,” Phinn interrupted. “Erin Donnelly sounded curious, and we know how nosy she can be.”

“That’s not fair, First. You’re way more nosy than Erin,” Dusty pointed out.

“That does sound about right,” Jake agreed, chuckling.

“Do you really want to let Erin handle this investigation?” Phinn challenged, ignoring Jake’s eager nod. “I, for one, do not want the Marshall Monitor getting this potential scoop. Busybody, Inc. is more important than the only elementary school newspaper in Edgewater.”

“Creating the paper is important to Erin,” Dusty pointed out. “It’s why I’ve helped out.”

“Keeping my life is most important to me!”

“Jake, the goal of our agency is to debunk myths and solve crimes. The first is far easier, since ghosts do not exist,” the analytical detective declared. While his next-door neighbor insisted ghosts existed, Dusty sat in the middle, skeptical yet not entirely ruling out the possibility.

“You don’t know that! Allison said she saw a ghost. What if it’s worse? It could be a phantom, a wraith, or a poltergeist. It might attack us,” the superstitious boy warned.

“Highly doubtful.” Jake’s loud cry of frustration caused Dusty to clarify. “If you’d read any of the numerous studies that I’ve shown you, then you’d know that–”

“People have seen it!”

“Allie never said that she saw a ghost,” their head researcher corrected. “Let me see…yes, she never said anything about a supernatural occurrence.”

“Check that flashlight, Second,” Phinn directed, turning his binoculars over toward the playground on a hunch that Dusty had pulled out a notebook.

“I don’t care! Todd told me what he saw,” Jake insisted.

“And Todd is about as smart as that other guy you played peewee football with,” Dusty responds. “The jerk from last fall who thought his backyard was haunted.”

“Ah, yes, Rick Valance. That owl sure left egg on his face,” Phinn recalled, smirking. He really hadn’t liked Jake’s teammate. “Perhaps this will turn out to be a raccoon chewing on a wire.”

“You need to make better friends in these leagues, Third,” Dusty suggested.

“Hey, so my peewee football team kinda sucked. Maybe if you two had signed up, then I wouldn't–”

“I wasn’t allowed to play. Besides, I prefer soccer instead,” Dusty replied.

“I did attempt T-ball that one year,” Phinn defended after catching Jake’s accusatory glare.

Jake and Dusty groaned at the mention of the T-ball debacle.

“We got movement!” Dusty announced suddenly. “Top floor. North window.”

“Roger. We’re moving in, Second. Watch our backs,” Phinn announced, standing up. Double-checking with his binoculars, he saw a faint light in the bedroom.

“We’re going in already? B-B-But that’s the bedroom where Old Man Mauldin di-died in!”

“No, he died in the largest bedroom, which is in the rear,” Phinn corrected.

Jake threw out his hands as his next-door neighbor left the tree cover. He sputtered in shock that Phinn wanted to walk out in the open on the sidewalk. The southwestern section of the park was a grass field that provided zero cover.

“Shouldn’t we duck behind a house or bush?”

“Why? Our presence isn’t out of place. We live a block behind us,” Phinn pointed out before crossing the street toward the corner of the LeClaire house. “It’s courage time, Jakey.”

“Crap. Why do I always have to be the muscle?”

“Look sharp. Abby or Allie could glance out their window,” Phinn warned, knowing what button to push with his co-best friend.

The two-story home beside the kids drew Jake’s attention. Abby wasn’t Jake’s only crush, nor his only crush among his sister’s friends, but Allie also lived in that house. He couldn’t look bad in front of the bubbly gymnast either.

“Fuck!” Jake hissed while they crossed Monroe Avenue toward Mr. Mauldin’s next-door neighbor. “Hang on, hang on.”

Phinn watched as Jake removed his backpack to unzip it. Under the assumption that Jake wanted a flashlight, the brainy kid mentioned that he already had his out. However, Jake pulled an entirely unexpected item from his bag.

“Is…Is that the iron poker from your living room?” Phinn questioned, showing a rare moment of disbelief.

“Hopefully, Dad doesn’t want to use the fireplace tonight,” Jake confirmed.

“What’s that?” Dusty asked, spotting the long, narrow object through the binoculars.

“You don’t want to know,” Phinn responded.

“What? Iron can hurt ghosts,” Jake proclaimed proudly.

“At least hide it with your leg,” Phinn ordered, worried it might appear like a crowbar or tire iron to a nosy neighbor.

The pair of junior investigators continued walking past the corner house on the sidewalk. Only after they reached Mr. Mauldin’s driveway did they suddenly dart down it. Similar to many homes in the older neighborhood, a detached garage stood at the rear of the property. However, unlike their homes, the Mauldin house had a side door instead of one in the back.

Phinn had initially cursed the layout during a daylight reconnoiter. Although he’d taken up learning how to pick locks, the twelve-year-old hadn’t gotten the hang of it enough yet. Not when he had to hurry while exposed on the driveway to any passersby.

“Ah,” Phinn sounded, testing the doorknob. “Curious. It’s unlocked.”

“The door’s unlocked? Holy…Old Man Mauldin can come and go? What if he wants **** and goes to our houses?” Jake fretted, beginning to freak out.

Despite the time crunch, Phinn pulled off his eyeglasses to pinch his brow.

"Even if ghosts did exist, which they don't, a ghost wouldn't need to open a door to leave."

“Oh, right! They’d just walk through walls. Good call, Phinn,” Jake nodded, tightening his grip on the fireplace poker.

“Alright, be quiet,” the detective team’s lead investigator reminded, opening the side door.

Entering the house, they found themselves in a mudroom. Despite hearing his mother and her friends gossip about the home being sold with its furniture, Phinn glanced inquisitively at the pair of shoes on the floor. Didn’t they clear out Mr. Mauldin’s personal effects?

Familiar with this type of house’s layout, Phinn led Jake around to the front of the house. They did glance inside the kitchen, bathroom, study, and living room, but merely as a precaution. The lights reportedly always flickered upstairs, not on the first floor. Light-weighted, Phinn whispered to his heavier friend to be careful on the stairs. They’d found it better to brace their weight on the sides of a stair rather than in the center. While nothing is perfect, they’d avoided squeaks when sneaking around over the last year’s worth of sleuthing.

A rattling caused them to pause halfway up. Once it subsided, they carried on. Several squeaks led Phinn to believe his raccoon theory might be correct. However, as they walked down the hallway toward the westside bedroom, a loud moan filled the house.

This time, Phinn reacted by flinching at the sudden noise, causing him to trip on his feet and fall forward. The thud he made, hitting the wood floor, silenced the wail. Rustling and ghastly whispers filtered out of the partially open door.

Looking down at his fallen friend, Jake stepped forward, charging into the bedroom with his iron poker ready.

“Stay back, undead fiend!” the twelve-year-old shouted.

A shriek filled the room.

Scrambling forward on his hands and knees, Phinn only managed to stand up as he crawled through the doorway. Inside, his gaze met a surprising sight.

Jake stood squared off with a brown-haired man holding a pillow over his groin while his other hand raised a small lamp. On the bed, a woman with mussed-up blonde hair sat up while covering herself with a sheet. Their terrified faces stared at the intruders in the faint light.

“Ah, yes. I shall need to alter my deductions for the future. A raccoon or squirrel infestation was not the most likely scenario,” Phinn told himself.

“The hell?” the woman sounded, breaking the room’s standoff. “Burglars?”

“Looks like it. Kid burglars,” the man agreed, cocking the lamp. “Put down the… whatever that is, kid.”

“Oh, right, sorry!” Jake said, lowering the poker.

“You should be sorry!” the woman screeched.

“And thankful,” the man added, causing the woman and the two boys to turn toward him with quizzical expressions. “Because we might be nice enough to let you go without calling the police.”

“What?” the woman questioned before meeting the man’s gaze. “Oh, yeah, we could do that…if you promise to keep this quiet.”

“We’d totally promise that! We’re sorry about intruding,” Jake responded. “Wait, what are we keeping quiet about?”

“That you broke into a house to steal from a dead man. You two should be ashamed of–”

“I think not, Mr. Jensen,” Phinn stated, flicking the bedroom light on. Both adults winced from the brightness while covering their exposed body parts further.

“Wait, what? Oh, yeah, Jensen! Wait, don’t you live behind this house on Clay?” Jake asked, recognizing the man’s face. That’s when he turned to check out the woman. “Oh, wow!”

“What’s happening over there?” Dusty asked, noticing the light go on.

“We’ve walked in on a very human interaction, Second. Brady Jensen and Gail Seaver in bed together,” Phinn revealed.

“Hey, now!”

“How dare you make that accusation?”

“The realty queen of the northside?” Dusty double-checked.

“I’d say so. Her hair and makeup are smudged, but I can see the resemblance to her signs and ads, including the one out front,” Phinn replied first to his co-best friend. “And I did not make an accusation, Ms. Seaver. It’s quite obvious what’s going on here?”

“You can’t prove anything!” the famous billboard face snarled, her pretty face turning ugly.

“We might not have seen what you were doing, but logic leads to only one deduction, ma’am,” Phinn proclaimed.

“You don’t know shit, kid!” Brady roared, stepping toward Phinn until Jake automatically blocked the man. Although furious, the thirtysomething man stopped, glancing warily at the poker in Jake’s hand.

“Uh, what is going on here?” Jake mumbled over his shoulder.

“It appears that a certain realtor is using her listings to conduct illicit affairs. Aren’t you married, Ms. Seaver? I know Mr. Jensen is,” Phinn declared.

“Whoa!” Jake sounded before his mouth gaped open in shock.

“You don’t know–”

“This isn’t any of your business, kid. I have a right to be inside this house, you don’t!” Gail screamed, motioning for them to leave. “Get out!”

“Yeah, you broke into this house!” Brady pointed out, grasping for any argument.

Jake started to back up, worried that they might have a point. However, Phinn held his ground.

“We didn’t break in; the door was unlocked. We’re just curious boys that wanted to explore a dead man’s house, since kids are saying his ghost haunts it,” Phinn explained. “We did nothing really wrong. At least, not to get more than a stern lecture.”

“That won’t work. You brought a weapon,” Gail pointed out, gesturing furiously at Brady to hand over her clothes, which he failed to comprehend.

“This was to fight off the ghost,” Jake explained truthfully, holding up the iron poker.

“Yeah, everyone knows that iron can hurt a ghost,” Phinn added, smirking. “My friend is an expert on comic book descriptions of how to defeat the supernatural.”

“Uh, I don’t read those-”

“Asshole!”

Dusty’s scream caused Jake and Phinn to share concerned looks. With their earpieces in, the other two room occupants looked on in confusion as Phinn spoke into his walkie-talkie again. “What’s the problem, Second?”

“Oh, I’m going to kill him,” Dusty responded, with a soft swoosh sound in the background. It came from their partner sliding down the curvy slide.

“Kill who?” Jake questioned, causing the cheating spouses to grow even more concerned.

Angry, their friend must have held the talk button down while marching across the park and street to confront someone. At first, the boys only heard stomping feet and hissed curses. Then, Dusty erupted.

“Hey, what’s up, Pinder–Oww!”

“What’s your problem?”

“Back off or you’re getting some of this too,” Dusty growled. “You sneaky shit, Todd!”

“Oww!” their classmate cried as several thuds could be heard.

“Is Dusty–” Jake began to ask.

“Yeah, kicking the crap out of Haldorn,” Phinn finished. “And I do mean kicking.”

“Hold up! You’re part of this, too. I bet so. Time to pay, Owl Boy!” Dusty yelled.

“You’re crazy!” the other boy yelled.

“Rick?” Jake queried, meeting Phinn’s eyes. “Why would he…”

“I told you Valance was nothing but trouble,” the less friendly detective reminded.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of footsteps and heavy breathing as Dusty chased Rick down the street. A loud thud sounded, followed by a second one, as they assumed their friend had tackled Jake's peewee teammate. However, another sound emerged in the background, growing rapidly.

“Fuck! It’s the cops!” Dusty warned, finally speaking directly into the walkie-talkie again.

“You’re in so much trouble, Pinder!” Todd’s distant voice could be heard. Closer to the walkie-talkie, Rick could be heard laughing.

“The cops?” Jake exclaimed.

“What?” Gail questioned, clearly listening for a moment before rushing out of the bedroom toward a front window. “No, no, no!”

“This can’t be happening! My wife is going to strangle me,” Brady yelled, attempting to get dressed as quickly as possible.

“It appears we’ve been set up,” Phinn noted.

“Huh?” Jake sounded.

“Todd overheard the conversations about this house and Mr. Mauldin. So, he shared the ghost stories to pique our curiosity. Based on their personalities, I’d wager a guess that Rick Valance is the one who suggested calling the police. However, they merely expected to catch us alone inside this house. Of course, these two will be the ones who take the fall.”

“What? The police don’t have anything–”

“Jake, please keep Mr. Jensen from leaving this bedroom. We don’t want him slipping out the back,” Phinn requested, leaning over to grab Gail Seaver’s remaining clothes. When the frazzled realtor returned to the room in a moment, she wouldn’t be able to dress and flee.

“You have no right, brat! This is imprisonment!” Brady bellowed.

“But the cops…That sounds like several squad cars,” Jake pointed out, keeping the poker ready.

“Yes, this might get tricky. However, we’re not the ones about to create a scandal,” Phinn commented. “I guess it’s a good thing that our families don’t take Easter seriously because they’re not going to be happy this weekend.”

Despite his intelligence, Phineas underestimated the neighborhood scandal, Captain Reyhall of the Edgewater Police Department, and the impact it would have on their reputations around Monroe Park. A half-dozen police vehicles swooping in with sirens blaring on the eve of a holiday weekend would do that. For the next five-plus years, they’d be banned by their parents from snooping around their neighborhood.

Of course, what their parents didn’t know couldn’t hurt Busybody, Inc.