The Bizarre Detective Agency Chapter 79

A gentle piano melody drifted from the study into the dark hallway. It played for a few moments, then broke off sharply, leaving the echo of a jarring strike on the keys.

Macpherson spun around, startled. "What was that?.."

Dorin appeared in the doorway, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. Seeing his wife, Macpherson breathed a small sigh of relief. "It's probably just the new house. Everything is so unfamiliar, all sorts of strange thoughts keep popping into my head... Go on to bed. I'll start work first thing in the morning."

Dorin walked into the study and set the coffee on the table. "But I've already made it."

"I'll drink it in the morning. It'll be perfect for a wake-up call," Macpherson said as he closed the fallboard of the piano, gathered a few sheets of handwritten music, and tossed them into the wastebasket.

Dorin's gaze lingered on the basket for a moment before she changed the subject. "What's wrong with the neighbors? I just went downstairs to take out the trash and heard them talking about our house."

"And what were they saying? That it's an honor to have such a great artist living next door?" Macpherson asked with a self-deprecating smirk.

Dorin frowned, her expression worried. "I couldn't make out the words, but from the looks on their faces, it was clear they were afraid... of this house..."

"They're probably just shy. We're newcomers, it's normal for the locals," Macpherson replied, dismissing her concern.

As his wife started to speak, Macpherson pulled her toward him, sat her on his lap, and wrapped an arm around her waist. "I know you're still not happy about it," he whispered, "but isn't it great to get a house this big for just a few thousand?"

Dorin pulled away angrily and headed for the door. "I'm going to bed. I have to get up early tomorrow and find a school for Betsy."

"Wait for me," Macpherson said. He covered the coffee cup with a sheet of wrapping paper to keep the dust out, then picked up the oil lamp and followed his wife.

Click.

The door closed, plunging the study into darkness.

Returning to the bedroom, the couple found their daughter in her pajamas, playing with Jack.

"It's time for bed," Dorin said, entering the room with her hands on her hips. She scooped her daughter into her arms.

Jack started to jump up to play, but Dorin gave him a gentle pat on the head, and he dejectedly trailed the family to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

After tucking her daughter into bed and pulling up the blanket, Dorin kissed Betsy on the forehead, left the oil lamp on the nightstand, and wished her good night. She then left the room with her husband, closing the door behind them.

The moment the room was plunged into darkness, a thin, human silhouette materialized on the ceiling above the bed.

"Aah!" Betsy screamed in terror, her eyes flying wide open.

The door flew open, and light flooded the room. Her parents saw their daughter pointing at the ceiling, crying out, "There's a man up there!"

The couple's hair stood on end. They instinctively looked up but saw nothing but the ceiling and the dark cracks in the plaster.

Exchanging helpless glances, Dorin went to the bed and spent a long time calming her daughter. Then she called the golden retriever over, had him lie on the bed, and said, "Jack's with you now. You're not scared anymore, are you?"

"Mm-hm," Betsy nodded timidly, clutching the edge of her blanket.

Dorin breathed a sigh of relief and backed toward the door. "Don't scare us like that again."

Click.

The couple left the room. As the door closed, the last sliver of light vanished from the hallway.

"Ooh..." Betsy whimpered and burrowed fearfully under the blanket.

The footsteps outside the door gradually faded. The golden retriever lay beside her, his weight pressing down on the blanket.

With Jack beside her, Betsy felt braver. She cautiously peeked her head out from under the blanket, blinking as she peered into the darkness.

...

"What if Betsy really did see something..." Dorin muttered as they walked back to their bedroom.

"Probably rats in the attic. I'll go up and check in the morning," Macpherson replied with a yawn.

"Oh! The wallpaper is torn!" Dorin stopped, noticing a tear in the wallpaper that exposed the gray wooden planks beneath. The tear was right next to their daughter's bedroom; they had somehow missed it when they were moving in.

"It's nothing," Macpherson gently nudged his wife forward. "If you don't like the wallpaper, we can buy some new stuff tomorrow."

"There's no need. We don't have an income anymore..."

The couple returned to their bedroom, changed into their pajamas, and quickly fell asleep. The move had exhausted them.

Click.

Macpherson turned down the oil lamp on the nightstand.

The moment the room was plunged into darkness, a desiccated human silhouette flickered across the ceiling.

Jack suddenly lifted his head and stared at the ceiling. Beside him, Betsy was fast asleep, hugging the golden retriever's soft fur.

As if seeing something, Jack raised his head again, his gaze tracking an invisible presence across the ceiling.

Whimpering softly, Jack suddenly jumped up, tucked his tail between his legs, and leaped off the bed. He ran to the door, stood on his hind legs, and pushed down on the handle, opening it.

Click.

The door swung open a crack.

Jack nudged the door with his head and slipped outside.

The dark hallway was silent. His paws padded quietly on the wooden floor.

Jack trotted over to the tear in the wallpaper near the door and bared his teeth, staring warily at the torn paper.

Something was happening in the darkness. A black hand with desiccated fingers, as if materializing from thin air, slowly emerged from the wall and reached for Jack.

"Grrr..." Jack flattened his ears, tucked his tail, and let out a threatening growl.

The hand didn't stop. It continued to reach for him.

Baring his teeth to the gums, the dog lunged at the black hand.

Snap.

There was a sharp sound of jaws snapping shut. Jack bit through empty air, his teeth passing right through the withered palm.

Jack froze, stunned. In that moment, the insubstantial, gaunt, black hand touched the scruff of his neck.

Crack.

The dark silhouette shifted. Jack's head lolled lifelessly to the side.

"Yip..." Jack managed only a quiet, final whimper, and then everything fell silent.

A dead silence lasted for a few seconds, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor echoed in the darkness. The dark silhouette was slowly being pulled behind the wallpaper.

In her sleep, Betsy frowned.

She seemed to be having a nightmare. She sleepily lifted her head and called out, "Jack?"

The spot beside her was still warm. It seemed Jack had left only a moment ago.

"Jack? Where are you?" The little girl clumsily got out of bed and, with her arms outstretched, shuffled toward the open door.

"Jack, where are you?" Betsy peered into the dark hallway, but she saw nothing and heard no reply.

The hallway was very dark. She grew frightened, worried about Jack. On the verge of tears, she went back into her room, picked up the oil lamp, and stepped carefully back out the door, keeping a hand on the wall.

Betsy, suspecting nothing, approached the torn wallpaper.

Suddenly, the same black hand shot out from the tear and grabbed the little girl's thin arm.

The five-year-old girl didn't even have time to understand what was happening before the hand dragged her into the wall.

Clatter.

The oil lamp fell to the floor, rolled, flickered a few times, and went out.

Everything fell silent once more.