Free Chihuahua of the Baskervilles by Esri Allbritten Page A

the bathroom light, then paused as something caught his eye.
    A small green dot shone up from the floor where the bathroom threshold met the wood floor of the hall. In shape, it resembled nothing so much as a paint drip.
    Angus squatted and ran his finger over it. It felt dry. He looked at his fingertip and thought he saw a faint glow there, as well. It was difficult to tell, as his eyes struggled with shades of darkness.
    Angus stood and flipped the bathroom light back on, then dampened some toilet paper under the tap and squeezed it out. He turned the light back out and rubbed at the spot, using his thumbnail behind the paper.
    When he was finished, only the tiniest glow remained from where the stuff had run into a crack in the wood. Someone would have to really look to spot it.
    Angus flushed the wad of damp toilet paper down the toilet, washed his hands, and went back to his cot.

 
    Eight
    The next morning, Angus called Suki and Michael and told them to meet him at a local breakfast place at ten.
    They took their seats, and Michael studied Angus’s face. “Everything quiet last night? You look a little tired.”
    “There was some to-ing and fro-ing during the night, but Thomas and the ghost stayed away.” Angus leaned forward and whispered, “The granddaughter may be drinking. She may also be sleeping with Ivan.”
    “Interesting,” Michael murmured.
    “Not something we can write about, however.”
    “Well, we could, ” Michael countered.
    “But we’re not going to.” Angus took the menu the waitress handed him.
    “The special today is cherry French toast,” she said.
    They all ordered the special. When the waitress had left, Suki pointed to the front window, awash in sunshine. “A beautiful day like this is great for detail and color but not so good for spooky. Do you have anything particular in mind?”
    Angus shrugged. “We’ve never tried for atmosphere in the travel-oriented photos.”
    “I could go for odd angles and framing,” Suki said. “Shoot from down low, catch the sides and backs of people passing. That’s more interesting than standard shots, but doesn’t sacrifice information.”
    “It sounds a great deal more effective than my little snapshots,” Angus said. “I leave it in your capable hands.”
    Their food came shortly afterward. Michael looked at his plate. The triangles of French toast were red with cherry preserves, making them look like a smiling mouth, and two circles of whipped cream had been squirted above them to look like eyes. “This is disturbing.”
    Angus squeezed lemon into his cup of tea. “Too cynical to enjoy a bit of innocent whimsy, Michael?”
    “You guys should shut up and eat,” Suki said. “This is the best thing I’ve had in my mouth for a month.”
    Michael took a bite of food. “Mmmm! Uhmum mmph.”
    “Told you,” Suki said.
    They ate in silence for a while, pausing only to nod in appreciation when the waitress asked how everything was.
    “So what’s the plan?” Michael asked, after scraping his plate clean.
    Angus took a sip of tea. “At some point, I’d like more information from Charlotte as to what her ghost experience was like. But I suppose we should stay out of her hair today and focus on the town, seeing as how she might be asking her husband for a divorce.”
    “I wouldn’t mind a few more photos at the Baskerville house,” Suki said, “but I can make do with what I have.”
    Angus nodded. “We’ll see how it goes. In the meantime, Michael, I want you to go to Miramont Castle and ask about their ghosts. Officially it’s too late to get tickets to Emma Crawford’s wake, but tell them you’re a reporter and see what they’ll do for you.”
    “So this is a different event than the race,” Michael said. “Emma’s corpse isn’t really in the coffin, is it?”
    “No,” Angus assured him. “It’s one of the local girls, very much alive. They serve a buffet dinner, and there’s a history lesson by people dressed as