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"Well, I figure we have about six hours until we need to head back," Tick’s dad said as he started the car again "Or, if we don’t discover anything today, we can always call Aunt Mabel and tell her we got stuck soht and that we’ll co any risks"

"Yeah," Tick said "But she’ll be spitting nails if I’m stranded at some nasty hotel without her there to brush ood sport, Professor Now you knohy yourthe two of us coear and drove away froas station said the post office was just up here on Main Street That’ll be our first stop"

Five lass door of the post office, loosening his scarf, not sure what to expect But he did have an odd sensation in his stoinal mysterious letter fro It was al the hospital room where you’d been born, or a house your ancestor had built Despite how he felt, this here any investigation would have to begin--he just hoped it didn’t end here as well

The place was boring, nothing but gray walls and gray floors and gray counters--the only thing breaking the monotony was a tiny faded Christ froht

"Hello?" Dad called into the eave it a ring

A few seconds later, an old man with bushy eyebrows and white stubble on his cheeks and chin appeared fro none too happy that he actually had to serve a custoruff voice before his feeble attempt at a smile

"Uh, yes, we have a question for you" Dad stumbled on his words, as if not sure of hiun "We received a letter--postmarked from this town--in theto find the person who sent it to us, and, uroaned "Tick, your turn"

"Oh Yeah" Tick pulled the original envelope froes, then placed it on the counter "Here it is Does this look fa?"

The man leaned forward and for so to me Good day" He turned and took a step toward the back of the office

Tick felt his heart sinking toward his stoave him a worried look, then quickly said to the man, "Wait! Does anyone else work here? Could we speak to thelare "This is a so, until I was forced to come back last month because one of the workers decided he was a psycho and up and quit Good riddance If you want to talk to hiuest"

"What was his name?" Tick asked "Where does he live?"

The forhed "Norbert Johnson Lives north of here, the very last house on Main Street Don’t tell him I sent you"

The ood-bye

They pulled up in their car at the dead end of Main Street, staring at a small house that seemed to huddle in the cold, miserable and heartbroken Tick didn’t know if it officially approached haunted-house status, but it was close--two stories, broken shutters hanging on for dear life, peeling white paint A couple of di fires Tilted trees, looking as though they hadn’t sprouted leaves in decades, stood like undernourished sentinels on either side of the short and broken driveway