by Bryan Ridenour

Created on: October 07, 2009   Last Updated: March 29, 2011

Detective Baxter shuffled papers and books on his desk, pretending to be busy as a client burst through the door.

"Good afternoon Ma'am. How can I be of assistance?"

The matronly woman entered breathlessly and thumped heavily on a chair, dabbing perspiration from her brow. "Warm day for October, huh Detective?"

"Yes," he nodded. He groaned to a standing position.  "I'm Detective Baxter and you are?" he asked, extending his hand.

She gave a firm shake. "I'm Miriam Waterford, but everyone calls me Mary."

"Nice to meet you, Mary. Now, what can I do for you?"

She dug through a large handbag and retrieved three snapshots, handing them to the Detective. Though blurry, each photo displayed the silhouette of a Victorian home and a pale light glowing in a second story window. Detective Baxter slid his wire rim glasses to the tip of his nose and leaned back in his chair. "What exactly am I looking at?"

"That house," she informed, " is the old Maxwell Mansion."

Baxter's eyebrows raised, saying nothing.

"My grandfather, Clayton Maxwell left the house to my mother and father at his death. After my father passed away five years ago, mother mentioned grandfather's estate, but never in great detail. Two months ago, she succumbed to cancer and only last week was I informed that the Maxwell Mansion is a part of my inheritance."

Clearing her throat, she requested a cup of water. Detective Baxter pushed to his feet and grabbed two bottles of Evian from a mini-refrigerator. "Go on," he urged, sliding a bottle across his desk.

"Thank-you," she said, taking a few sips. "The will's executor handed me two keys to the old place, but warned that the place should be condemned. He also mentioned that some believed the old place to be haunted." She chuckled in disbelief.  "Silly, isn't it?"

"Well, I have heard tales," Baxter informed.

"But surely you don't believe in spooks, right Detective?"

"I have my doubts," he nodded.

"Well, anyway, I arrived in town yesterday, just after dark and I thought I'd go take a gander at the old home place." She paused to take another drink. "As I prepared to head up the walk, a couple of shutters banged noisily, and drew my attention to an upstairs window. I saw a pale glow and quickly grabbed my camera. Those photographs are the results."

Detective Baxter examined the fuzzy prints again, the first two giving no clues. As he looked at the third, a smile curled slowly on his lips. He jumped to his feet and pulled Ms. Waterford from her chair. "Hurry, we have to

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