The sudden trumpeting blare of the radio sitting on the end table next to the couch interrupted their conversation. The sound issuing forth from the speaker, however, was not music. It was a guttural and rather menacing voice.
You will die.
You will die.
You will die.
Die. Die. Die.
Over the noise, Hutch yelled, "It's got to be a trick!" Grabbing the radio, he turned the knob left and right and shook it, but the voice continued.
You will die.
You will die.
Hutch pulled the cord from the wall and still the voice threatened.
You will DIE.
Ken felt his first frisson of unease.
die diE DI—
The radio went silent mid-threat.
"Starsk, this has got to be a set up."
Staring at the now-mute radio, the dark-haired man wasn't so sure but nodded anyway.
"Let's look around—maybe we'll find someth—"
Earsplitting ethereal screams filled the air.
They covered their ears and froze. A minute or two later, silence descended like a curtain.
Starsky looked at his partner and said, "Still think it's a set up?"
Hutch nodded but without much conviction. "Uh, yeah . . . listen, it could all be explained if someone wired this place for sound."
The two men searched the living room from top to bottom but found no evidence to back up Hutch's theory. Deciding to split up and search the rest of the apartment, Dave indicated he'd search the kitchen and master bedroom, leaving his partner the bathroom and spare bedroom.
O-O-O-O
Starsky began his search in the kitchen. The cupboards yielded nothing but the expected food and dishes. Dropping to his knees, he was just preparing to look under the sink when he heard an oddish noise behind him. Turning, Dave felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Three decorative stone statues that normally stood in the corner were moving! Not just moving, they were walking! Slowly and ponderously, their stone legs thumped, bumped, and grated along the linoleum.
Yet, it wasn't until their agate eyes blinked and seemed to focus on him that he knew he'd had enough.
O-O-O-O
Meanwhile, Hutch was combing the bathroom for signs that someone human was tormenting his partner. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he closed his eyes and groaned in frustration. He slapped his hand against the wall and encountered something sticky and wet.
His eyes slammed open, and he stared at the wall in shock. A viscous red liquid oozed over the wall. In fact, it was oozing from the wall. From every wall. The red drops welled and ran in rivulets down the walls, rapidly pooling on the floor. Catching sight of the mirror to his left, Hutch watched wide-eyed as an unseen finger scrawled BOO! WE SEE YOU! across the shiny surface in the same red liquid that looked suspiciously like blood.
O-O-O-O
"HUTCH!"
"STARSKY!"
The alarmed shouts came simultaneously and both detectives sped into the living room.
Visibly shaken, Hutch announced, "That's it! I'm out of here!"
"You ain't the only one partner!" Dave strode hurriedly toward the door.
"Starsky, wait!"
"What? Why?"
"Don't you think you should put on some socks and shoes first?"
Dave looked down at his bare feet. Without a word, he disappeared into the bedroom. Moments later, he returned with socks and shoes in hand.
"C'mon, let's go."
"Aren't you going to put them on?"
Looking around, Starsky muttered, "Yeah . . . in the car." He pulled open the door and stepped into the hall.
"So what do you think—should we head to my place?"
"Nah, right now I'd rather go to the Tin Cup—that 24-Hour diner over on Rocket Street. I need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee."
So intent were they on getting away, neither one heard the mirthful, and yet otherworldly, laughter that rang throughout the vacated apartment.
O-O-O-O
"Oh, Reginald, that was great fun!"
"Yes, my darling Meredyth, great fun indeed." Reginald, a quite dapper-looking ghost echoed.
"Much better than spending Halloween over in 2A. It's ghastly boring to haunt vacant space." Meredyth, an ever-graceful spirit, draped herself across a chair.
"Halloween certainly is all about haunting, isn't it my love? Our grandest day of the year."
"Reggie, you did an outstanding job with that 'blood' on the walls."
"As did you, Meredyth. Making those stone statues walk! Brilliant! And your screaming was simply superb—as usual."
"But, dearest, don't you think that the radio death message was a bit over the top?"
"Oh, that wasn't me, Meredyth my sweet. That was Mordecai from 2C. He is a malevolent chap, is he not?"
"I should have guessed, Reggie. That Mordecai is always trying to spoil our fun."
"Yes, well, I forced him to return to 2C."
"Do you think the occupant, this David Starsky, will come back?" fretted Meredyth.
"I should hope so. He is a police officer after all. Brave and all that, my dear. I doubt he'd let our fun scare him away."
I do hope you're right. He's such a handsome and likeable gentleman, as is that blond friend of his. I would miss them terribly."
"Meredyth, you always were a bit of a flirt. That hasn't changed." The ghostly Reginald smiled.
"No, dear, that hasn't changed. Just remember, you're the only man . . . err . . . ghost with whom I really love to flirt."
Hauntingly merry laughter filled apartment 2B.
"What say we return to our spectral dwelling in 2A, my beloved."
"If we must." Meredyth sighed. "You know, Reginald, I do have one regret about this night."
"You do?"
"Decidedly so. I regret I'm not able to taste that drink Mr. Starsky is so fond of. You know—the one that's called . . . 'Yoo-hoo'. It's just so very intriguing."
He ruefully nodded his head. "Ah, 'tis a bitter pill. Come along, my dear."
The spirit couple slowly began to fade away and all grew quiet. At the last moment, before they disappeared completely, Starsky's unfinished bottle of Yoo-hoo rattled on the counter.
And then it too vanished.
O-O-O The End O-O-O