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Ariel walked near Mr. Warner, trying to form an opinion about him. He seemed nice enough—excitable, but nice. His every move and word rose and fell dramatically, like he was the lead in his own play: a flourish of the hand here, a raised eyebrow there, a deep frown, a bright smile. Up and down, up and down.

Finally, they reached a door. Mr. Warner opened it with an elegant gesture, motioning them inside. Two comfortable-looking couches sat around a small table. Ariel took a seat, followed by Leroy, Taylor, and John. Jasper, Mandy, and Max settled on the other couch. Ariel felt her cheeks burn. That Mandy...

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Mr. Warner pulled up an extra chair and invited them all to coffee. Shiloh went around, pouring warm, amber liquid into each cup. Jasper took his first sip and visibly relaxed. Ariel smiled into her coffee cup, knowing how much her boss depended on it.

“I might as well fill you in a bit before she gets here,” Mr. Warner began, his tone dropping dramatically. “And by ‘she,’ I mean Miss Rebecca Marlowe.” He paused for effect, and Ariel found herself holding her breath.

Miss Marlowe? The theaters are owned by a woman?

“Mr. Marlowe’s daughter? What does she have to do with this?” Taylor asked.

Mr. Warner cleared his throat, took a sip of coffee, and answered, “Everything. Surely you’ve heard of Mr. Marlowe’s untimely death some years ago? In his will, Miss Marlowe was left everything—his fortune, his theaters. And now she wants to close them.”

Jasper frowned. “Mr. Warner, when I talked to you over the phone, you said you were being haunted. You’re not about to tell me that you think—”

“But I am!” Mr. Warner cut in, setting his cup down hard. “It is Mr. Marlowe himself!”

Surprise filled the room, but Jasper’s frown remained.

“I have seen him myself. We were very close in life, and now he haunts his first theater in vengeance against his daughter and her horrible intentions for his life’s work!” Mr. Warner insisted.

“I have seen him too,” Shiloh said quietly. She had found a seat and was watching Mr. Warner intently. Jasper turned his imposing gaze on her.

“Have you?”

“Yes, in my powder room,” she replied, and something in her voice told Ariel that it really bothered her.

“Non-sense.”

Everyone looked up. A tall young woman with long blonde hair, dressed as if she had just walked out of a fashion magazine, stood in the doorway. Mr. Warner frowned, matching Jasper’s expression.

“Miss Marlowe, you’re being very rude to our guests. They are, after all, a paranormal group. Nothing is nonsense to them,” Mr. Warner said, looking for support and smiling lightly at the team.

Stolen story; please report.

Ariel returned his smile hesitantly. They believed in the paranormal, of course, but that didn’t mean they believed everything was paranormal. Jasper emphasized this, “We take no offense, Miss Marlowe. We are only after the truth, be it paranormal—” Mr. Warner’s smile widened, “—or not.” His smile fell as Jasper finished.

Miss Marlowe stepped further into the room, arms crossed. She nodded at Jasper, “Good. You’ll find the only truth here is that there is no paranormal activity.”

“You dare call Daniel a liar? Me a liar?” Shiloh suddenly demanded. Miss Marlowe narrowed her gaze on the actress.

“Not liars, stallers.”

Mr. Warner stood up in objection. “I would never use your father’s memory for my own gain!”

“You would if it protected his theater!” Miss Marlowe shot back. The tension in the air thickened, and Ariel shifted uncomfortably.

“You’ve got this whole superstitious town believing that the ghost of their beloved Bradford Marlowe is haunting his theater! You’re wasting my time, but fine. I’m glad they’re here, actually. They’ll see through your act, and I’ll get to close this waste of money.”

With that, the young woman stormed out of the room. Mr. Warner sat back down, looking disgruntled. Shiloh stared after Miss Marlowe with hard eyes.

“Don’t listen to her, Daniel. All she wants is money. I know Mr. Marlowe is here.”

Mr. Warner sighed, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmured.

“Mr. Warner, do you believe this ghost capable of harm?” Jasper persisted, his tone low and irritated. Ariel knew what he was thinking: four hours for nothing. They didn’t come all this way to investigate a phony ghost and a feud. Mr. Warner seemed surprised by the question, but before he could answer, there was a loud crash in the next room and the oil lights around them blew out.

Shiloh gasped sharply. “What?”

There was the sound of sudden movement, and then a small glow filled the room.

“Quick, I believe it came from Shiloh’s powder room!” Mr. Warner urged, lighting a candle and heading for the door. Shiloh followed immediately, and the rest of the GPI group trailed behind.

They darted down the dark hallway. Ariel felt a chill as she passed snuffed oil lamps, all of them blown out? In a breathless moment, Mr. Warner came to a sudden halt, dramatically throwing open the door and thrusting his candle inside. Shiloh gasped, and Leroy had to steady her.

The powder room was a scene of utter chaos. A rack of costumes was thrown against the wall, dresses strewn across the floor. The large, cracked mirror dominating the room magnified the disarray tenfold. Makeup smeared the walls in garish reds, stark whites, and pale pink streaks. The few pieces of furniture—a chair, a chest, a small table—lay upside down, some broken.

“My... my room,” Shiloh whispered faintly. In the eerie orange glow of the candlelight, Mr. Warner turned to face them, his expression pleading.

“Now will you reconsider? Perhaps,” he swallowed hard, reluctant to say what he was about to, “perhaps our ghost, Mr. Marlowe, is dangerous in his afterlife?”

Ariel glanced up at Jasper. Her boss seemed deep in thought, his jaw set. “Max, find us some lodging. We’re staying the night.”

Max started to leave, but Mr. Warner’s cry of protest stopped him. “Wait! Please, there’s only one inn in Magnolia Midlands. They are expecting you. Let me take you there.”

Jasper nodded. “Fine.”

Smiling brightly again, Mr. Warner led them from the room. Shiloh drifted to his side, and he spoke to her quietly.

“Do you need to sit down? Perhaps some water?” John suggested gently. Shiloh looked pale and shaken but smiled weakly, waving off his suggestions. “Thank you, but I’m okay, really.”

Mr. Warner nodded approvingly. “Shiloh is my most resilient actress. It would take more than a little scare to keep her down.”

As they walked away, Ariel noticed Jasper lingering at the door. She fell back to join him. “Jasper?”

He shook his head. “It’s quite an aggressive attack. Shiloh is an interesting target...”

Ariel nodded silently, wondering what Shiloh had done to deserve this.

“Hey, Ariel! You coming?” Leroy called from down the hall.

“Oh, yes,” Ariel answered, glancing back at Jasper before hurrying after them. Reluctantly, Jasper followed.