19
A Tale with Two TailsIt was six in the morning, hours since I’d left Aunt Mat and the corridor. I’d crashed in her bedroom, not having wanted to awaken the sleepy pastry chef and his newfound pet, which would surely accompany us back to Wilmington if Aunt Mat didn’t put a stop to it. Sleep had been deep but brief. I could have used lots more shut-eye, but three murders, a madcap aunt, an array of weird guests, and a happy-go-lucky ghost required attention.
As for the cigarette butt, someone had beaten me to it. Gone it was. Of course, I could have taken a wrong turn, but that was doubtful. A shiver capered up my spine as an image of that dark, dank place burst before my eyes like a Flashcube on an Instamatic camera.
I dropped to the side of the bed and jostled Adwin’s shoulder, prom
