The building was brick. Typical barn-like church architecture. The sanctuary connected to a long square structure with a basketball court and windows cluttered with educational bric-a-brac. The words Christ The King School were carved into the stone divider between the bricks.
A pair of men stood near the double doors at the rear, illuminated by a single flood light.
"Mr. Schwann, thank you for coming on such short notice," said one of the figures, a squatty fat man in a black outfit and clerical collar. "I called the Ghostbusters, but they're away in New York handling some ghost or another. I've heard of your Communiversity courses, so I figured you're the next best thing. No offense."
"None taken."
The man who had been called was named Maurice Schwann, author of several books on ghosts and the paranormal. He had a head of gray hair, sharp blue eyes and a bird-like nose. He'd been walking the dogs with his wife at the time he'd been called, so in each hand he held a leash, a huge yellow labrador on his left, a big husky on his right. The canines strained against the leashes, generally refusing to stay still.
"I'd be delighted to help. What are we working with?"
The priest visibly trembled, pushing a door open.
Schwann tugged his dogs in that direction, and they bolted through the opening.
"Wait!" the priest cried. "You can't take pets in there!"
"They're spirit seeing dogs," Schwann replied, dashing in before he could be stopped.
The dogs sniffed their way down the polished tile floor, poking their nose into corners, pausing at lockers, ripping papers off the wall.
They found one locker particularly fascinating, so much so that they would not leave the door.
"Aha!" Schwann shouted. "I found something!"
The priest was out of shape, and it took him a full minute to huff over to him. "I must insist that you leave those dogs outside!"
Schwann ignored him, pointing to the locker. "Can you open that up?"
With a shrug, the priest pulled out the master key and did so.
Inside was a bucket of Kentucky Fried crispy chicken, which the dogs immediately buried their muzzles into.
Schwann pulled a rolled up newspaper out of his plaid coat, smacking the lab in the head. "Sunshine, no! Bad girl!"
"Take those dogs outside! I'm not going to ask again!" the priest screamed.
Suddenly, he fell silent, staring at a plastic bag resting on a pile of soiled laundry.
At last he said, "Is that marijuana?"