Top O' the Mournin' by Maddy Hunter

his bare legs the once-over. They were long and lean and muscled, as if they’d been chiseled by some famous Italian sculptor. Unh.
    “No trousers today?” I licked my lips in appreciation. “I like this look on you.” He yanked me into the room and shut the door behind him.
    “Please tell me you still have the buttons you popped off my trousers.”
    “Buttons? I…I…” I replayed the incident in my head. Ping ping ping. Off flew the buttons. Tap tap tap. George Farkas at the door. Chirp chirp chirp. Etienne’s cell phone. That’s when I’d picked up the buttons, walked across the room, and dropped them into…“Oops.”
    “Why do I always cringe when I hear you say that?”
    “They’re—uh—they’re in the ashtray that’s sitting on top of the writing desk, that’s in my room…back in Dublin. I’m sorry! I’ll call the hotel. I’ll have them overnighted to you.”
    He waved off my suggestion, looking a little distracted. “I’ll ring up the front desk. They might have an emergency sewing kit with a few stray buttons for guest use.”
    “Can’t you wear the pants you wore yesterday?”
    “They’re gone.”
    “Gone where?”
    He shrugged. “I hung them up last night. Now I can’t find them. They’ve disappeared.”
    “How can trousers just disappear?”
    “Check the closet. If you can find them, I’ll eat them.”
    I slid open the closet door to find one article of clothing hanging up. A black suede sportcoat. I peeked left and right and scanned the floor. No trousers in sight. “You’re right. They’re not here. Did you try the dresser drawer?”
    “I never put trousers in a drawer.” He sighed his disgust. “I suppose this means I’ll need to find a men’s clothing store.”
    Clothing store? The gravity of the situation hit me like a twenty-ton brick. “Are you saying you packed only two pairs of trousers?”
    “I packed one pair. I was wearing the other.”
    This was such a guy thing. Pack light. Anticipate no fashion emergency. End up wearing a towel. To avoid this problem, women packed everything in sight, had stickers labeled HEAVY slapped onto their suitcases at check-in, and developed rotator cuff problems lugging the things around. Women usually ended up having to undergo months of physical therapy when they arrived home, but at least they had the satisfaction of knowing they’d looked really good on vacation. It was purely a matter of priorities.
    I looked Etienne up and down. “Do men wear kilts in Ireland? A little fringe, a fancy pin, you’d be right in fashion. But you’d better decide what you’re going to wear pretty quickly because the bus will be leaving before long.”
    “I need to investigate some things here at the castle today, darling, so I’m afraid I’ll have to miss today’s outing.”
    My good humor spiraled downward into my shoes. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?” His mouth was set in his police inspector’s mode, however, so I knew he was serious. “But why?”
    “Did you sleep well last night, Emily?”
    “Like a log.”
    “You weren’t disturbed by noises?”
    “Snoring.” I emptied the contents of my jacket pocket into my hand. “But I stuck these in my ears.”
    He peered into my open palm. “Erasers?”
    “Earplugs. They really work. I didn’t hear a thing the rest of the night.”
    “No moaning? No crying?”
    “You heard moaning and crying? Someone else heard the moaning, but she thought it was a couple of the guests high on Viagra.” I paused as reality set in. I wheezed in panic. “Moaning and crying? I told you this place is haunted! The ghosts must have been crying out to each other last night. You heard it with your own ears! This is so creepy.”
    “There are any number of explanations for what I heard last night, Emily. The wind. Faulty pipes.”
    “Ghosts.”
    “I’m not willing to admit that yet.” But I saw a glimmer of unease in his eyes that indicated everything he knew of the world was being