Nearly Departed, Max Schlienger [the gingerbread man read aloud txt] 📗

his room, where he reopened his laptop and pulled up an internet search. His heart sped up as he typed, and he took care to copy the information from the business card exactly. Something had been bothering him, besides his most evident problems, and he was determined to figure out an answer. It had started back when Elspeth said that more than two dozen people had met with Evy in the past, and as he had told Bobo, Dennis knew that many paranormal investigators liked to brag about their exploits. Most of them, at least based on the ones he had encountered, were much more concerned with making a name for themselves as experts on ethereal matters than they were with actually providing legitimate help with anything. That was part of the reason, he supposed, that he had been so surprised to learn that so many people had visited the house before him, and yet he had still not heard about it.

The loading bar crawled across the screen at a frustratingly slow pace. “Come on, come on,” prompted Dennis, knowing full well that the words would have no effect on his search results. Still, saying them made him feel better. As the search finally finished, Dennis fought to keep his excitement from swelling prematurely. There were only three results displayed on the screen. The first was an article from less than a year before, and the third looked like an advertisement for an anti-wrinkle cream. Dennis doubted that either of those would be pertinent. That left the second listing, which gave the disheartening appearance of being an excerpt from an amateur magazine. He opened it anyway, preparing for disappointment, and scanned through the contents. It was largely what he figured it would be: Little more than a largely-speculative historical account, although he couldn’t immediately find any of the information which had brought him to the page in the first place. The majority of the story seemed centered around the demolition of landmarks, presumably for reasons other than those cited by the city government. To Dennis, it sounded like a conspiracy theory, and a weak one at best.

The article went on to accuse “anonymous parties” of purchasing structures though borderline illicit means, although it didn’t elaborate on what those means were. It wasn’t until he reached the very end of the article that Dennis felt his luck changing.

“Son of a bitch!” he shouted, springing upright from his slouch. He squinted at the screen, trying to be sure of what he was seeing, and he felt his heart racing as the certainty solidified in his mind. “Son of a bitch!”

“Shut the fuck up!” came the sound of a muffled voice.

Dennis blinked and stared at the wall. “Sorry!” he shouted back.

“Shut the fuck up!” the voice yelled again. Dennis considered raising his voice to apologize again, but thought better of it. Besides, he had bigger things to worry about now, like how to find Bobo at this time of night... and how to explain the mess that they were in.

“Draadtrekker!” Dennis pounded on the front door of the shop in a fair imitation of himself from a few days prior. “We have a problem!” There was no sign of a response from inside, and Dennis could sense the curious eyes on him from the little restaurant across the street. Since being watched was already a major source of his anxiety, the thought of adding more spectators to his entourage was not an appealing one. “Damn it,” Dennis muttered, and he stalked away from the door before someone took too much of an interest in him.

“Doctor!” an accented voice yelled. Dennis turned around, but the shop remained devoid of life. “Always when I am closed, you come!”

“Bo- … Draadtrekker?” Dennis called, catching himself, “where the hell are you?”

“Up!” replied Bobo. Dennis craned his neck to see a mess of dreadlocks peering at him from an upstairs window. “Hello, my friend! Such a good evening it is right now!”

“Appearances can be deceiving, Draadtrekker! Let me in!”

Bobo flashed his wide smile and ducked back inside the window. A few moments later, the door swung open, and Dennis hurried to follow his friend into the store.

“Be with you in a jiffy,” Bobo said, dropping the accent. “Give me a second to lock up again.” As he fiddled with the door, Dennis walked further into the shop, and wound up banging his shin against a low table. “Watch out,” warned Bobo, too late. “I moved some things around since you were here.”

“I noticed,” Dennis muttered, rubbing his leg. He adjusted the weight of his bag and waited for his friend to finish before trying to find his way through the clutter.

“What’s the matter, then?” asked Bobo, leading the way past shelves and cabinets to the back room. “Getting cold feet about tomorrow?”

“What are you – oh, the date,” Dennis responded. He had taken care to pack a change of clothes worthy of a romantic night out, but after the rest of the evening’s events, he had completely forgotten about his plans for the following day. “No, that’s not it. I have something to show you.”

“You couldn’t wait until the morning?”

“It’s something I found online,” said Dennis. “You really need to see it.” He started to pull his laptop from the bag, but Bobo stopped him.

“Wait, let’s go upstairs,” he suggested. Dennis looked on with mild disbelief as Bobo approached the largest of the cabinets in the room and opened it to reveal a stairway hidden behind it. “After you, September,” he said, nodding his head at the opening.

“Not that I’m judging you,” Dennis replied, “but would you care to explain this?” He ducked as he entered the cabinet, and quickly fixed his eyes on the light at the top of the stairs.

“Seemed like a fun idea at the time,” explained Bobo. His voice sounded flat in the narrow stairwell, and the sound of his footsteps behind Dennis seemed to keep pace with the dull