Page 23 of Haunted Horror on Halloween

And the rest of the place.

Ghosts and goblins. Some cute and little.

Some that seemed to flow and dance in the moonlight, large enough to enwrap anyone foolish enough to come too near to them.

There were many creatures, big and small, ranging around the front of the yard and deep into both sides of the house, one built in the old feudal style and offering a large, Greek formation porch where a zombie and a leprechaun sat on a swing-bench, apparently arguing over the meaning of the night.

“Wow. Talk about embracing a holiday!” Jackson murmured.

“Well, I guess we’d best try the front door,” Angela suggested.

“Past all those guys?” he said lightly, referring to the multitude of creepy creatures within the decorations.

She groaned softly, grinning and sliding past him.

But when she reached the front door, she paused, frowning.

The door was ever so slightly ajar.

“Jackson?”

He stood at her side and lifted a hand, knocking on the door. There was a bell; Angela pushed it.

They waited. No one came.

“Exigent circumstances,” Jackson muttered, pushing his way on it. “Hello? Is anyone here? Your front door was open!”

Angela followed him. The home offered a large entry hall with porticos leading off the left and the right.

“You know,” Angela said, “I think we should give Detective Valiente a call; he may know these people, and it might help to have him here.”

“Right. We can get going in case we do find someone injured, but he might know that . . . they’re careless with locking the front door or, um, yeah. Call him. This is his area of operation; he can help,” Jackson said.

She was able to connect with the detective in about an instant. She explained where they were and he quicky said, “You’re at the Morton’s house, Bob and Sally. They’re retirees who raised three kids there, and now they’re just enjoying their golden years. Nice folks, I’m on my way. My crew can keep going without me.”

“Okay, retirees who go decoration crazy when it’s Halloween?” Angela asked him.

“They have the land, they’ve done it forever, and the grandkids love to come over,” Valiente told her over the phone. “They bring their friends. Makes them the cool kids.”

“Okay, I can see that. The door was open; no response. We’re going to hope we don’t find one of them injured,” Angela told him.

“Gotcha. I’m already in the car,” he told her.

They ended the call. Jackson was already heading to the left of the entry.

“Right side?” she murmured.

“Want to head upstairs? I can sweep side to side.”

“Gotcha,” she said, grinning as she realized she’d repeated Valiente.

The curving stairway of the house was beautiful and ended in a balcony to see the floor below. But she ignored the temptation. She was certain the house was probably close to two hundred years old, but it had been lovingly maintained and restored throughout the years.

Their obsession with decorations seemed to have ended with the yard; there was nothing “Halloween” that she had noted downstairs, and upstairs she was finding nothing but three bedrooms, clean and neat, an office, and two bathrooms.

She went through the closets.

And she looked under the beds.