Who puts a want ad for hotel managers in a parapsychology journal? I asked myself out loud.
But there it was. An advertisement you'd expect to see in a metropolitan newspaper occupied about a quarter of one page.
...
Let's see the ballroom.
Once again, that transformation. We can go up there later, lets go down and call Mrs. Danbaugh and tell her you'll take the job.
In a minute, just a quick look around.
He seemed to be on the verge of panic. But he swallowed hard and nodded. A quick look. He walked reluctantly to the elevator and pushed the down button.
The ballroom is on the tenth floor. Lori said.
Oh, yes, so it is. He pushed the up button.
He was silent the whole ride up from the fourth floor to the tenth. The doors opened and he actually stepped back a step.
Let me guess. The ballroom is why you wanted a parapsychologist and why you want out of this building.
He nodded slowly.
Tell me about it. I said looking out of the door at a very unremarkable marble and paneling wall with a letter-board sign announcing a homecoming dance with a date from three years ago.
It's haunted. Mr. Martin said.
Yeah, so is the White House. I answered.
No, I mean this place is really haunted. Day and night, on Sunday, it doesn't matter. I've seen things up here I don't even want to understand.
But they have dinner dances up here. Lori nodded at the sign.
I looked at it. And blinked. The sign had changed. Now it was announcing a dinner dance two weeks ago.
I didn't say anything, maybe I had read it wrong...
