The next day Brandon and I went to the third floor and cleaned. Ducky had told us at breakfast that she was going to have a family of four move in there. Their house had been totally demolished, and they had nowhere to go. There was no sign of any ghost, although we did find an old diary that we gave to Ducky along with some old photos.
Then we went into the attic and called down questions through some kind of speaking tube, to ask Ducky what she wanted done with things. She didn’t want to leave Elvis’ side. She’d made the living room couch into a bed, and he spent the next several days in there resting per doctor’s orders, and grousing and complaining. Turns out he has a PhD in automotive design or mechanical engineering or something; so he had the right attitude for a doctor.
The attic
