Pantelli and I log into a new mystery

Anyhow, Pantelli and I zoomed away from the Dubuques, Constable Dassios and assorted other adults with irritating questions. We smashed through a couple of garden hedges, scrambled over a sagging fence, pushed through lilac bushes, and ended up in the overgrown garden of our neighborhood haunted house.

From the cackles and giddy “Wheeeee!”s inside the crookedly open French doors, the inhabitant of the haunted house was having a rip-roaring good time. Parting long dandelion stalks and wavy grasses, Pantelli and I tiptoed closer.

We saw a skinny woman with long brown hair flinging herself about to the catchy music of Logdriver’s Waltz: