The headline asked:  Is Your Neighbor A Werewolf?  Seven warning signs from our panel of experts!!!

"Honestly, I don't understand how anyone can take such nonsense seriously," scoffed Debbie, young and ambitious, possessed of abundant, coppery red hair that rolled down past her shoulders.  She wore a black sweater and a tan skirt, while her matching shoes rested on the carpet off to one side.  She lolled in the chair behind her desk (neither paid for, as of yet) in the cramped office she had rented in a tall, dingy, downtown building.

"Although, if I did, I would have to wonder about my neighbor, Mrs. Glarabiniter.  She's always outside prowling about at night, scaring the cats and…"

"Excuse me, are you Ms. Drummond?"

"Eek!" exclaimed Debbie, tossing the tabloid into the air as she abruptly sat up.  "Yes, that's me, Debbie Drummond!  How can I help you, sirs?"  She eyed the two elderly gentlemen cautiously, hoping they were actual clients and not more bill collectors.  Why couldn't people understand that she would gladly pay all her outstanding debts just as soon as she managed to earn a little money?

"I'm Kennesaw Duluth, and this is my associate, Terrance Nixon.  We're very glad you're still in so late this afternoon," explained one of her visitors.  Both men sported trim, white beards, carried walking sticks, and wore old suits, neat but worn and faded.

"We saw your flier."  The other visitor, Terence Nixon, handed over a colorful sheet of paper.

Deborah Irene Drummond, Paranormal Investigator.  Has you home been taken over by ghosts or other supernatural creatures?  Contact me today for their immediate removal.  Discrete service with guaranteed results!

A photograph of Debbie's two friends, Lori and Cheryl, occupied the center of the flier.  Each wore a long, black wig and was dressed in a Halloween costume, Lori as a vampire, Cheryl as a zombie princess.  They stood against a swirling orange and yellow background, bound with white ropes that contrasted nicely with their black clothes, and gagged with broad, rich, red bandanas.  Their facial expressions certainly suggested that if they were not restrained they would be out wrecking mayhem.

Which, in fact, was precisely how they had felt when the photograph had been taken, as Debbie had tricked them into posing for her advertisement, although that was all ancient history, as far as the enterprising redhead viewed the matter.  "Yes, did you have a haunted house you wished, er, de-haunted?" she asked eagerly.

"Indeed, we do," Kennesaw agreed.  "It is a very old mansion no one has lived in for years.  We thought it would be the ideal setting for our Halloween party tomorrow night.  But when we arrived to decorate the place, we were chased away by ghosts!"

"Could you describe these ghosts?" asked Debbie, picking up a notepad and looking very professional.

"Oh, I don't know, they were just, you know, ghosts," Terrance explained a bit vaguely, looking to his friend for assistance.

"We didn't stick around to get a good look," offered Kennesaw.  "They started shouting at us in these eerie voices to get out, so we ran off as fast as we could!"

"I see," said Debbie, tapping her pencil absently.

"Here is the address.  Do you think you could come over tonight?  It's very urgent that we evict these ghosts immediately so we can get things ready for tomorrow!"

"Well, let me see," murmured Debbie, opening her appointment book.  It contained no appointments, but rather a list of her favorite movie actors, with rows of stars after their names, evaluating how much she liked each one in various categories.  "Hmm, well, we are quite busy and this is such short notice, but I think I can put together my expert team in time to take care of this matter for you gentlemen!"

"Wonderful!  Well, here is the address, then!"

Debbie studied the small slip of paper they passed her.  "Of course, before I can get started, there is the matter of my, you know, retainer…"

"You will be paid in full," Terrance assured her, stamping his walking stick on the floor, "once we are satisfied the ghosts are really and truly gone."

"And not one penny until then!" added Kennesaw sternly, shaking a boney finger at her.

"Ah, right," sighed Debbie.  She was in no position to argue.  She had opened her business two weeks earlier and had done nothing so far but sit behind her desk.  Therefore, she wished her clients good afternoon and considered her next actions.  She did not believe their story; the old dears had probably just heard a few strange noises and had imagined the rest.  She would call a few friends to meet her at the old house, where they could determine the completely natural explanations for all that had happened.  She would then illuminate matters to Mr. Duluth and Mr. Nixon and collect her hefty fee.

What could be easier than that?

___
"This place certainly looks like it could be haunted," acknowledged Debbie as she swung her flashlight around.  She scrutinized the ornate, wooden stairs that led upwards, and the plain, stone steps that descended into the basement.  "Although it doesn't look quite as run down as I would have expected."

"Hi, Debbie!"

"Eek!" she exclaimed, turning around angrily.  "Don't sneak up on me like that, Herbert!"

"I'm sorry," the short, slender, young man apologized.  He wore a light jacket, dark trousers, black boots, and wire eyeglasses.  "I came over to help you investigate, just like I promised."

"That's nice, Herbert.  Did you see any other members of the gang?"

"Um, I think I noticed Honey's Corvette pull up as I came in.  Say, that's a pretty outfit you're wearing, Debbie."

"Yeah, it'll come in real handy if the 1960's ever return," remarked Honoria as she walked in.

"I think it's very appropriate, myself," snapped Debbie.  She had changed clothes after leaving her office, and now wore a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt that ended above her knees, both items purple with lilac trims.  A green scarf, lilac headband, pink stockings, and lilac shoes completed her costume.  "At least I dressed like someone who is hunting ghosts rather than going to a cocktail party."

"I wasn't aware we had to dress some special way," snapped back Honoria.  She wore an expensive imitation fur coat over a frilly minidress of lightest pink, and delicate, buttery yellow shoes with straps all about.  "Especially not as Danger Prone Daphne."

"Please don't fight, girls," pleaded Herbert anxiously.

"I'm sorry, Herbie."  Honoria suddenly turned contrite, looking at him with her clear, blue eyes through her frosty blonde bangs.  "It really was clever, Debbie, the way you put together her outfit from that cartoon."

"Thank you," replied Debbie, putting her hands on her hips.

"By the way, is that your bicycle outside, Herbie?" asked Honoria.  It's kind of dark to be out on it, though, so I'll give you a ride home afterwards, okay?"

"Um, thanks, Honey, but I've got a good headlight, so I'll be okay," mumbled Herbert.

"Hi, guys!" shouted Stan heartily as he arrived.  He was tall and muscular, dressed in a fuzzy gray sweater, tight jeans, and sneakers.

"Hi, Stan," Debbie greeted him back, batting her eyelashes at him.  That act went unnoticed, though, partly because of the darkness, but mainly because he had his gaze riveted on Honoria.  

"Hi, Honey.  I came to protect you from the ghosts!" Stan informed her.

"You needn't have bothered," Honoria replied.  "There aren't any ghosts here."

"That's right," agreed Debbie.

"If there aren't any ghosts then why are we here?" puzzled Stan.

"We're here to find out why our clients think there are ghosts," said Debbie, deciding it was time to get started now that everyone had arrived.  She had not called Lori and Cheryl, as she felt the incident with the photograph was still too fresh in their minds.  "Okay, we need to split up to look around.  Stan, you come with me, and Herbie, you go with Honey."

"But I want to go with you, Debbie," objected Herbert.  "Stan, would you partner with Honey?"

"Sure, no problem!" enthused Stan.  "Come on, Honey, let's go somewhere nice and quiet where we…"

"No way!" seethed Honoria.  "I'm not going off alone with Stan!"

The argument continued for a while, and in the end, they did what none of them wanted.  Debbie and Honoria went upstairs to search, while Herbert and Stan climbed down into the basement.  The men did not find much of interest, only a startled mouse and three or four spiders, but adventure found the two damsels quickly enough.

___
"What are we supposed to be looking for?"  Honoria splayed her flashlight across the walls, pausing at a door.  She opened it with a creak, and looked inside.

"I don't know; something that's making weird noises," shrugged Debbie.  She gazed at the portrait of an eighteenth century gentleman who frowned austerely back at her.  "Some shutters banging in the wind or, or, or whatever is making that sudden thumping sound!  Ooh, do you hear it, Honey?"

There was no reply.

"Honey, where are you?" Debbie hissed loudly, moving towards the door Honoria had opened and entering the room.  "I swear, if you're keeping quiet to be funny then I'm going to – eek!"

Her flashlight fell to the floor and went out.  A pair of hands wrapped around her, pinning her arms against her side.  She opened her mouth to scream in anger and fright, but a cloth was shoved inside and another tied around her head, silencing her.  She tried kicking with her feet, but rope soon bound them together, tying her ankles and knees.  Finally, her mysterious abductors used the rope to tie her wrists behind her back and bind her upper arms in place against her sides.

She was made to sit on the floor, next to Honey, as Debbie discovered when a bright emergency lantern suddenly clicked on.  Honoria was also bound and gagged, with her coat lying beside her.  Lori and Cheryl, dressed in the same vampire and zombie princess costumes from the photo, looked at the pair in triumph.

"You certainly fell for our trap, Debbie," announced Lori (the vampire).

"Mpfff," protested Debbie, trying to turn her body so her hands could reach Honoria's knots.

"None of that," scolded Cheryl (the zombie princess) straightening her out again, so the two captives sat side by side.

"Those two old guys who went to your office, whatever they told you their names were, are really a couple of out-of-work actors," explained Lori.  "We met them by accident, and as we got to talking about what you did to us, they made a couple of good suggestions about how we could pay you back."

"So we hired them to get you to investigate this house," added Cheryl.

"Mpfff," said Debbie in disgust.  And here she thought she finally had her first case!

Lori placed a digital camera on a small, wooden crate, set up against the wall.  "We're going to take some pictures of you with us," she announced, as she joined Cheryl in kneeling behind the two captives.

"Our idea was only to use you, Debbie, but I think Honey makes a nice addition."  Cheryl smiled, all teeth.  "She has that innocent look that'll go well with our plans."

"Which just goes to show you shouldn't judge someone from her appearance."

"Mpfff!" fumed Honoria.

"Good one, Lori," praised Cheryl.

"Now, what we're going to do," explained Lori, "is take a bunch of pictures of the four of us together like this.  Then we're going to make up our own fliers about your business."

"We'll take down all your fliers wherever we see them, and put ours up instead," said Cheryl.

"And we'll put ours up in lots of other places, too."

"Oh, absolutely, that's just what we'll do.  And then everyone will see that instead of capturing ghoulies, you get captured by them!"

"Mpfff," said Debbie, feeling alarmed.  Those fliers would ruin her business!  Well, she was forced to admit to herself, there really wasn't any business to ruin, really, but it would make her look like a terrible fool.

"Mpfff," said Honoria indignantly.  Why did she have to be part of it?

Lori held up the remote control for the camera.  "Okay, smile everyone!  I'm ready to take the first picture!"

___
"Mpfff," exclaimed Debbie, trying to wriggle away from the scene.

"Come on now, everybody get nice and close together," frowned Lori, looking at the image on the small screen.  "Cheryl, scoot her over a bit, would you?"

"Back in position with you," announced Cheryl, twisting Debbie's body and then straightening Honoria a bit.  "Keep still!  We are going to take these pictures, no matter how long it takes, so you may as well cooperate!"

"Mpfff!" announced Honoria defiantly, already trying to curl away again.

"Okay, let's try this one."  Lori looked up to face the camera.  "Ready, set, eek!"

"Eek!" echoed Cheryl.

"Mpfff?" asked Debbie and Honoria as the emergency lantern suddenly went out.

There were a few indistinct noises and then the light flickered back on again.  Lori and Cheryl were bound with ropes and gagged with strips of cloth in almost the same fashion as were Debbie and Honoria.  Standing behind them were two figures wearing green drapes, with holes cut out for their eyes.

"We are the Ghosts of Retributive Distress!" declared one of them, speaking in a deep, gruff, disguised voice.  "Whenever damsels tie up other damsels, we step in and tie them up as well!"

"And then we untie the first damsels!" announced the second ghost, and he was as good as his word.  A minute later Debbie and Honoria were free while Lori and Cheryl twisted in their ropes and mewed into their gags.

"Thanks guys," said Debbie, rubbing her arms.  "I knew you would come to save me, Stan."  She paused briefly, trying to figure out which one was Stan, for he was taller and larger than Herbert, yet both ghosts appeared to be about the same size.

"And I knew you would come rescue me, Herbie, so I wasn't a bit afraid!" announced Honoria.  She picked up her fur coat as she tried puzzling out the pair as well.

"We are not this Stan and Herbie!"

"We are the Ghosts of Retributive Distress, just as we told you!"

"Fine, be that way," snapped Debbie.  "If you want to continue with this act then we'll just leave.  Come on, Honoria."

"Yes, Deborah."  Honoria looked at the two ghosts with disdain, who were walking around noisily and making low, moaning noises.  She wrapped her coat tightly around her body.  "I would expect this sort of childish behavior from Stanley, but I thought you were more mature than that, Herbert."

The two women climbed down the stairs, discussing the situation.  "Honestly, I think that boys never really do grow up," announced Debbie.

"Hi, girls," said Stan, as he and Herbert climbed up from the basement.  "Did you find something upstairs?"

"The cellar is completely empty," announced Herbert.  "There isn't anything there that anyone could mistake for a ghost."

"Um, er, if you guys were down here…" began Debbie nervously.

"…then who was up there?" finished Honoria.

"What are you talking about?" asked Stan.

"Eek!" exclaimed Lori and Cheryl as they ran down the stairs and dashed out the front door.

"Where did they come from?" asked Hebert.  "And why are they running like that?"

"They tied us up," answered Honoria, "and then some ghosts came and tied them up!  It looks like they managed to untie each other in record time, though."

"We thought the ghosts were you guys," said Debbie.  "But you were down here, so that means…"

"…there really are ghosts!" said Stan.  "And they tie people up!  I'm getting out of here!"

"Ooh, don't leave without me!" pleaded Debbie, following him quickly.

"Umm… I don't really believe in ghosts, of course," stammered Herbert, unable to hide the quiver in his voice.  "Only, I do know there are some things that can't be explained by normal means, which I believe is the case here, so I think it might be best to come back in the daylight, when we can see things clearly."  He hurried outside and looked at his bicycle in dismay.  "Someone let all the air out of my tires!" he exclaimed angrily.

"Imagine that, the things those tricky ghosts do," commiserated Honoria, shaking her head sadly.

"Can you still give me that ride home, Honey?" asked Herbert, glancing back at the house with alarm, as if he were afraid a whole horde of specters would suddenly emerge.

"Sure, Herbie, come along," invited Honoria, leading him down to the curb to her waiting candy-apple red Corvette.

___
Two faces watched from an upstairs window as Honoria drove away.  "That was well played, Terry," said Kennesaw Duluth, a smile creasing his aged face.  "A most successful dress rehearsal, I would say."

"Indeed, Ken, we still have our touch," agreed Terrance Nixon.  "These results convince me that we are ready to perform our particular brand of entertainment here tomorrow on Halloween!"