Solitary as an Oyster
By Mur Lafferty
“Who’s there?” the voice asked, rough and unpleasant. Robert and Lydia glanced at each other.
“The Paranormalists, Mr. Scrooge. You called us a couple of hours ago,” Robert said.
“Took you long enough,” the voice said. The door clicked as Scrooge unlocked several locks, and finally it slid open a couple of centimeters. Scrooge peered out, the heavy chain still on the door. Jenny flipped the night vision off her camera to get a clear view of him in the foyer’s dim light. He was much smaller than his voice implied, a diminutive man who was probably a bear in the conference room, but a pussycat when in thin pajamas and a robe.
Well, not a pussycat. Something more like a weasel.