Johnny headed up the stairs, shaking his head at Roy’s easy acquiescence to the husband’s suggestion that they take a look around the house.
How does one look for a ghost, he mused, turning left at the head of the stairs and opening the first door. He poked his head in, flicked on the switch, and peered in.
It was a guest room from the looks of it, with a twin bed, night stand, and a desk hogging up most of the floor space and not exactly creating a welcoming retreat.
He shut the light off and backed out, fighting down the snicker that threatened to erupt.
Probably the room where they stowed their respective in laws; maybe he should suggest the idea to Roy the next time his mother in law darkened the doorway of the DeSoto household.
Stick the old bat into the root cellar with an army surplus cot, a candle, and a jumbo sized can of bug repellant and see just how long she stayed.
Of course Roy would need a cellar to make that work, he was pretty darn sure that the house couldn’t lay claim to that feature.
Plus JoAnne might not take too kindly to the idea of her sainted mother sleeping amongst the jars of canned fruit.
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