"Only the living people, people!" Scrooge bellowed.
"That would be us," Granny said, taking the opportunity to usher the girls and Mr. Canis forward.
"Excellent," the old man said as he gestured for the group to follow him into the back. They had to wait for Tim to get out of the doorway, but once this was accomplished, they found themselves in a room decorated in ruby and midnight-blue tapestries with fluffy pillows scattered on the floor. Incense burned in a small pot on a shelf. In the middle of the room was a round table surrounded by six high-backed chairs. The old man invited everyone to sit down and then did so himself.
"I apologize for that mob scene. I hired Tim to keep them out but I think the boy is in over his head," he continued. "Ghosts can be quite a handful."
"Ghosts!" Sabrina said with a laugh.
If the man heard the doubt in her voice he ignored it. "They're like mice. I can't get rid of them. Ever since that business with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, all the spirits in the astral plane feel it's their duty to come and show me how I've ruined the holidays of everyone I know. I'll admit, I was a pain at Christmastime, but since then I've been haunted by the Ghosts of Easter, Passover, Thanksgiving, Yom Kippur, the anniversary of the Boxer Rebellion, Bastille Day, Lincoln's Birthday; anything you can think of! The whole thing has gotten ridiculous. How many Arbor Days could I have ruined? Not to mention Kwanzaa, Secretary's Day, and the anniversary of the Woodstock concert. It got so bad I was fired from my job at the bank. It's really difficult to approve home loans with the Ghost of Earth Day Future walking around turning off all the office computers to save energy."
Scrooge bent under the table and came up with a calculator and a crystal ball. "OK, let's get down to business. We do two things here: finances and phantoms. What's it going to be?"
Granny reached into her handbag and removed the business card Sabrina had found in her mother's wallet. Scrooge took it, flipped it over, and then smiled.
"Ah, Veronica," he said, wistfully. "Where did you get this?"
"She's my mom," Daphne said.
The man grinned. "Your mother is a saint. She helped me get the lease on this store when I decided to go into business for myself. She's lovely. Just lovely! What can I do for you?"
"We're investigating King Oberon's death and we were hoping you might--"
"Of course!" Scrooge said, cutting off Granny Relda. "Everybody grab hands and close your eyes."
"Mr. Scrooge, I'm a bit confused. We aren't here to talk to spirits," the old woman said.
"Oh."
"We were hoping you might be able to give us some information. Anything you might know about who would've wanted to kill the king."
Scrooge laughed. "Well, you don't need a psychic for that. Everyone wanted to kill the king. I wanted to kill the king. He was a jerk!"
"--azoid," Daphne finished.
"He was arrogant, stupid, meddling," Scrooge cried. "He'd send his goons down here to collect his tax--extortion money if you ask me. Most of us thought he was a royal pain in the--"
"You weren't at the meeting yesterday," Mr. Canis interrupted.
"No, I gave up on all that nonsense when the real Faerie fell," Scrooge said.
"Yes, we keep hearing about Faerie," Sabrina said.
"Faerie was a great idea, a neighborhood of Everafters. It used to be downtown but people started moving in and Everafters kept getting moved out. Pretty soon, we were way out in Jersey City, New Jersey. Well, I wasn't going to tolerate that! An Everafter has got to have standards. Before I knew it we were pushed out of Jersey, too. Eventually, someone suggested the park. No one lives there but the squirrels. They had a witch set up the Golden Egg. Oberon said we'd buy land and start anew, but it never happened.
We couldn't get along long enough to make anything work. But if you want to know about stuff like this you should take it right from the horse's mouth--Oberon himself."
"Old man, did we not just tell you the king is dead?" Mr. Canis snapped.
"You read the sign on the door, right? You people aren't getting it, are you? Here, take my hand," Scrooge said, snatching Sabrina's in his own. "Now, close your eyes. We have to concentrate to get Oberon's attention."
"Is this going to give me nightmares?" Daphne cried, taking Scrooge's other hand.
"Depends… was his head chopped off or anything like that? They often come back looking the way they did when they died."
"He was poisoned," Granny Relda said, sounding a little uneasy.
"Should be OK. He might be a little green. Still, I have to warn you. Even if we see Oberon he'll be difficult to understand. I think it has something to do with the energy they use to become full-torso apparitions. They trade the body for the language but we'll do our best--sometimes I can make out what they want to say by having them play charades. Now, let's concentrate. Oberon? Oberon, are you there?"
Sabrina rolled her eyes. "You're just going to call out his name? It's that easy?"