The lights in the receiving room kept flipping on and off, and on and off, and on, and off. He had been standing here for the last several minutes, watching this summer home that had apparently taken on a mind of its own – or more likely lost it judging by the on. and. off. He sucked his teeth, pulled on his gloves, and squared his shoulders as he went to solve this mystery.

Quietly, he trode up his paved path and up the cheery wooden stairs, though the rattle of keys was pronounced in the still night. The door eased open, and looming in it was the master of the house, mouth puckered like he ought have sucked a lemon.