I run a ghost-hunting office. My first client was my cousin Merle. Strange noises could be heard at night in the attic above her little brother's room. I was supposed to find out what was going on. First, I interviewed Leo. He described what he heard at night: soft pattering, loud clattering, shrill squeaking, short, sharp screams, howling, whistling, and dull thudding. After that, I examined the crime scene. There was a lot of stuff in the attic, and I discovered mouse tracks. My ghost sensor didn't go off. So, I spent the night at Merle and Leo's and brought my cat Mr. Hobbs with me. When the noises started at night, I climbed up to the attic, even though Merle warned me that it could be burglars. I lurked in the dark on the stairs, and there was pattering and squeaking. I turned on my flashlight – dormice! They had been making all that noise! Just as I was about to go downstairs to announce the good news, I heard a giggle. A creepy, non-human giggle! Before I could investigate, Merle called, and I had to go down. I didn't want to worry her, so I only told her about the dormice and that I would spend the night with Mr. Hobbs upstairs to drive away the mice and dormice. Feeling a bit uneasy, I soon lay down on my air mattress in the attic. It was dark and quiet until Mr. Hobbs suddenly started growling. I jumped up, and a second later, a clothes rack crashed onto my "bed." I shone my light around and discovered the ugliest ghost of all time on Merle's grandpa's old grandfather clock. I hit it with a dose of ghost-repellent slime, then I spoke to it. And it answered! First angrily, then more desperately: "Why can't I be left alone here? I used to live in a wonderfully damp cellar, and I want to go back there." Unfortunately, I couldn't stay with him any longer.