The Most Frightening Story Ever Told by Philip Kerr Page B

technically a child, and not at all easily scared, this gives me a unique advantage over other ghost hunters. Most of whom are rather old and, despite their profession, very easily frightened. Think about it. At my age I’m hardly likely to check out on you if we do see something. Which might take some explaining to the hotel’s management, right?”
    “Check out?”
    “Have a heart attack.”
    “You have a point there,” admitted Mr. Rapscallion. “I never thought of that.”
    “Well, maybe you should. If someone died while they were trying to raise a ghost, the hotel would be within its rights to sue you. I know that because I spoke to a lawyer about it. Plus I’m fully insured against any mishap. To me or you.”
    “I suppose that’s reassuring,” said Mr. Rapscallion.
    Miss McBatty dumped her bags and glanced around the room. “This is the haunted room, huh?”
    “Actually, it’s the bathroom that’s haunted,” said Mr. Rapscallion.
    “A clean ghost, huh? I like that.”
    Billy and Mr. Rapscallion followed Miss McBatty into a room with the largest bathtub the boy had ever seen. Billy turned the hot water faucet experimentally.
    “Some woman called Betsy Ward is supposed to have died in the bathtub sometime during the eighteen hundreds,” explained Mr. Rapscallion. “According to the rumors, her ghost turns the faucets on and off during the night.”
    “Just as long as she doesn’t do it when I’m in there,” said Billy. “The water’s very hot.”
    “I must say I can’t feel any indication that this is a haunted bathroom.” Miss McBatty frowned. “No, wait just a minute. What’s that rising from the bath?”
    “Steam,” said Billy.
    Miss McBatty relaxed a little, looked crossly at Billy and then said to Mr. Rapscallion, “Who’s the kid?”
    “This is Billy Shivers,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “He’s my intern at the bookstore.”
    Miss McBatty said, “Hmm,” and turned away. “He looks kind of young to be an intern at anything.”
    Billy ignored that. “Have you ever seen a ghost?” he asked the apparently fearless girl.
    “That all depends on what you mean by ‘seen,’ ” said Miss McBatty. “I’ve filmed something on a thermal imaging camera. That’s a special camera you use to film things in the dark.”
    “What did it look like?” asked Billy.
    “The camera? It’s just a black box, with a bit of glass on the end.”
    “The
ghost,
” said Billy.
    “I know what I’m doing, okay?” Miss McBatty sounded defensive. “At the age of twelve I was the Grand Cerveau Smart Kid Scholar of the Decade at Georgetown University. And at the age of fourteen I was nominated as a junior Nobel Prize Laureate for my work on psychic penomn—phemon—menoffandon—”
    “Phenomenon,” said Billy. “Phenomena.”
    “That’s right.” Miss McBatty pulled a face. “For me that’s a
reisedewortes.
That means it’s a word I have trouble with. Everybody has one.”
    “Interesting,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “With me it’s numbers.”
    “A word I have trouble with,” confessed Billy, “is ‘ghost.’ I sincerely hope we don’t see one.”
    “We’ll never see a ghost if you think like that, mister,” said Miss McBatty. “Too many negative waves.”
    “Don’t worry about him,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “He’s just the nervous type, that’s all.”
    “Just what we need for a ghost hunt,” she sneered.
    “I can’t help it,” said Billy. “I only like ghosts in books.”
    “And I can’t work around a scared kid,” said Miss McBatty. “Fear has a very definite electrical vibration that affects my ghost-detecting machines.” She shook her head. “Maybe we should forget the whole thing.”
    “Nonsense,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “Look, Miss McBatty, you’re here now, so let’s just see what happens, eh? You go ahead and set up all your gear in the bathroom. Meanwhile, Billy and I will go off to the B.A.B. dinner in the Kansas City Public Library. We’ll