10
The Never-Ending ManseTwelve rooms later, we were dusty, weary and leaning toward cranky. The lighting, for the most part, was dim at best and in some rooms we’d had to use flashlights when there were no lamps or bulbs. We’d found a huge hairy spider the size of a Smart car hanging from invisible wires in a sewing room and a shrieking skeleton in a vintage brass-bound trunk in a room that served as a hobby and/or art area, a plastic job with fake black roses in one hand and another note from kooky Aunt Mat in the other. Miss me? (That’s all she wrote.)
Percival swung around a wooden antique room divider and groaned, wiping a thick sticky cobweb from his face and lips. “I vote we stop. I’m ready to sit back and enjoy a nice cool martini.” He glanced at his Rolex, a Yacht-Master I was
