Edwin and Charles were in the office, as usual. There had been a steady stream of cases, demonic possessions, werewolves, hauntings, but today was bone empty. A boring day for two ghosts running a detective business.

"Any new cases? Check the mail, will you, Edwin?" Charles groans, leaning against the desk lazily.

"...Do it yourself," Edwin muttered, not even looking up from his desk.

Charles gives another dramatic groan for good measure, but he slides across the room and picks up the mail from the slot, searching through rent dues, newspapers, and junk mail.

"Junk, Junk, junk.... Ooh." Charles picks up an aged piece of parchment and squints at it.