SEAN COULDN’T WAIT TO tell his friend Matt Fischer about the ghost lights, and soon a group of kids from their fourth-grade class had gathered around to listen to the story.
“How do you know it’s ghosts making the lights?” Matt asked.
“Yeah,” Jabez Amadi said. “It might be burglars.”
“On and off for two years? In an empty house?” Sean asked. “It couldn’t be burglars.” As Debbie Jean climbed over a desk and pushed into the front of the group, Sean winced. “Sean Quinn, did you just say that the old Everhart mansion is haunted?” she asked.
“That’s what Sam Miyako told us,” Sean insisted.
“Did Sam see the lights?”
Sean hesitated. “I don’t think so. But he talked to some people who did.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
Debbie Jean laughed. “I think all that stuff about ghost lights is just one of Sam’s scary stories. People have moved into the house. If it was haunted, they’d have moved right out again.”
“Why don’t you ask me if the house is haunted?” Charles Collier spoke loudly from one side of the group.
Sean’s face grew warm with embarrassment. “Uh, Charles,” he said. “I forgot that it was you and your family who moved into the Everhart mansion. I didn’t mean to …”
Charles was smaller than most of the kids in the class, but as he frowned at Sean and took another step closer, Matt and Jabez quickly got out of his way.
“Hey, listen,” Sean said. “I’m sorry if I made you mad.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Charles answered. “I’m mad at having to live with the ghosts.”
Sean knew his mouth had fallen open, but he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“You’re right about the ghost lights,” Charles told him. “You and that Sam, whoever he is. The Everhart mansion is haunted.”
“Wow!” Matt said. “Why did your parents rent a house with ghosts in it?”
Sean could see the unhappiness in Charles’s eyes as he said, “They needed a place to stay for just a short time while they’re working on a project for the Redoaks Museum. My parents don’t believe in ghosts. When I told them what I saw, they just said I had an overactive imagination. It doesn’t matter, I guess, because Mom and Dad are hardly ever home anyway. And, when they are home, the ghosts don’t come around.”
Debbie Jean squeezed next to Charles. “How can you stand it, living with ghosts? Aren’t you scared out of your mind? Most people would …” She stopped, smoothed back her hair, and said, “That is, most people would be scared. I probably wouldn’t.”
“Yuck,” Sean said and pretended to gag.
“Listen to me, Sean,” Charles said. “We haven’t got time to fool around. The bell’s going to ring pretty soon, and I want to talk over a business arrangement with you. Yesterday I heard someone say that you and your brother are private detectives.”
“Yeah. We are,” Sean said. “We call ourselves the Casebusters.”
“Fine,” Charles said. “In that case, I’d like to hire you. My parents and I are going to live here for three months before we can go back to our home in New York. As I told you, I don’t like living with ghosts, so I want to hire the Casebusters to get rid of them.”
Sean spoke without thinking. “Hunt for ghosts? No way!” he said.
“Ha!” Debbie Jean said. “You’re scared to!”
“Are you?” Charles asked Sean. “Tell me right now. Because if you won’t help me, I’ll have to find someone else.”
Frantically, Sean searched for the right thing to say. “My brother and I are partners,” he said, “so I’ll have to talk it over with him.”
“Do you think he’ll agree?”
The first bell rang, but no one moved. Sean realized they were all waiting for his answer.
“Yes,” he heard himself saying. “I can just about promise that Bri will agree.”
Charles gave a long sigh of relief. “Fine,” he said. “How about coming to my house at six-thirty tonight?”
“I have a better idea,” Sean said, eager to see the house in daylight, not in the early winter darkness. “We can come right after school.”
“No,” Charles said. “Evening is better. If my parents are home, you can meet them, too. I’ll tell the housekeeper you’ve been invited for dinner.”
Mrs. Jackson came into the classroom just as the second bell rang. She pretended to look surprised. “What’s all this?” she asked. “No one’s sitting down, ready to work? Come on, boys and girls, it’s time to get busy.”
Sean slid into his chair and pulled out his history book, but he couldn’t concentrate on the lesson. He’d practically promised to do the last thing in the world he really wanted to do—go into a haunted mansion at night, looking for ghosts.