“I think my house is haunted,” Frederick said. He shifted nervously, glancing up at the hall chandelier.
“Yes, so you said on the phone,” the psychic investigator said, frowning slightly. This was just a preliminary visit. No point in rolling out the TV cameras just yet.
“You see, the chandelier flickers on and off sometimes, just on its own. Usually at night.”
“I see. Like a short in the wires?”
“No, I’ve had it checked out three times by electricians. They say everything is normal.”
At that moment, the chandelier flickered on and then immediately went off. It flickered on and off a few more times, then nothing.
“You see?” Frederick cried. “It’s haunted.”
“I see,” the psychic investigator said. His demeanor had changed completely. “You may be right. In my expert opinion, I would say this is strong evidence of poltergeist activity.”
* * *
At that moment, eight hundred miles away, Jon Tagg stood in his brother-in-law’s bathroom, flicking the useless switch up and down.
“Hey, Dave, I think your light’s broken,” he called.
“You gotta use the one on the right,” Dave called from the kitchen. “Don’t use the switch on the left. I don’t know what it’s for.”