Bloodhounds Inc: The Ghost of KRZY

About the Book

An eerie glow inside radio station KRZY during the middle of the night. . . equipment mysteriously vanishing. . . and strange voices-human but not quite.

So begins the hilarious and action-filled case for kid detectives Sean and Melissa Hunter and their pet bloodhound, Slobs, as they set out to discover the mystery behind the spooky station. . . while at the same time learning how “perfect love casts out all fear.”

Bloodhounds Inc. The Ghost of KRZY

Chapter 1


It was happening again….

Up on the hill.

The flickering. An eerie, blue-green light pulsed and glowed through the windows of the deserted radio station.

There was no one inside the building this time of morning. At least no one was supposed to be inside. Mr. Hunter had made sure to lock it up tight when he had finished his final newscast at midnight.

He always did.

Especially with the recent rumors about the place

being haunted.

Not that he believed them. As a committed Christian, he knew there were no such things as ghosts. The Bible makes it clear that once we die we go to face God. No dropping by seances to say “hi,” and no hanging around haunting spooky old radio stations. Once we’re gone, we’re gone.

But still, there were all those questions….

Like the station being built near an old Indian burial ground. Could that have somehow upset the “spirits”?

And what about the sound? That strange, unearthly noise’? In some ways it was almost like-

There it was now. From the building. A voice. High and crackly. Human and yet not human.

Not human at all …

The flickering lights and the eerie voice would continue from now until dawn. And then they would disappear.

Until the next time …

Yes, sir, ghosts or no ghosts, if there was one place you didn’t want to hang around this time of night, it was radio station KRZY.

Because if the place wasn’t haunted, it was sure doing a good job of imitating it.


“Good morning, Midvale. It’s straight up 7:00 A.M. here at KRZY.” The voice of Melissa Hunter’s dad boomed through her radio alarm clock. She stirred as her father, who was broadcasting from the radio station, continued to speak.

“And if my two kids are out there listening … Misty, Sean? You’ve got until the end of this next song to make it down here to the station for that interview I promised.”

Melissa’s eyes exploded open.

Interview! That’s right. This was the morning! Dad had promised them free air time on his radio station to talk about their new detective agency.

But she’d overslept. So had Sean. And now Dad was giving them only one song to get up, get dressed, and hightail it down to the station.


The station was half a mile away. Maybe he was just kidding. Maybe it was another one of his practical jokes. He was good at those. Or maybe, if they were lucky, he’d do a newscast before the song, then the weather and the stock-market report, and-

Suddenly the song began.

So much for luck.

“And, kids,” she heard him chuckle over the intro, “don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

Melissa rolled out of bed. Without her contacts she was pretty much blind, but she’d worry about them later. Besides, as a neat freak, she didn’t have to sweat stumbling over anything on her floor. All she had to do was worry about-



Remembering where the wall was.

Once she found the door, she staggered into the hallway and down to Sean’s room.

“Sean!” She pounded on his door. “Sean, wake up!”

Nothing but muffled groans on the other side.

More pounding. “Sean!”

Repeat in the groans department.

Well, like it or not, there was only one way to wake up her brother. It was a radical approach, one she saved only for emergencies. But this morning was definitely an emergency.

She turned down the hall and called, “Slobs! Come here, girl.”

Immediately a giant bloodhound lumbered around the hall from the kitchen. She was black and tan, and stood higher than Melissa’s knees. She’d been a gift from her parents … a year before Mom had been diagnosed with cancer.

“In here, girl, in here!” Melissa threw open Sean’s door. Slobbers slid around the corner, raced into her brother’s room, and leaped onto his bed … all one hundred and two pounds of her.

“SLOBS!” he cried.

Good, he was awake.

Now would come the usual screams and hollers since, as you may have guessed, Slobbers didn’t get her name by accident. In fact, at that very moment, she was covering Sean in affectionate slobbers, licks, and drool. Lots of drool. It was a bloodhound specialty.


Yes, sit, her brother would be out of bed in no time.


Meanwhile, at that exact moment, just a few blocks away, KC, Spalding, and Bear were hiding in the bushes.

Together the three of them crouched on their bikes, watching … waiting …

“It’s already 7:00,” KC complained. She was the tomboy of the group. Short but tough. She had a voice so husky it sounded like she ate sandpaper for breakfast, then washed it down with a box of nails. She was also the not-so-proud owner of a new set of braces, which she kept picking and fiddling with. “You sure he’s gonna come by here?” she growled.

Spalding, who was as rich and spoiled as KC was tough and mean, checked his Rolex watch and said, “Patience, child. Bear is certain the man uses this route every morning. Isn’t that correct, Bear?”

Bear, the third member of the group, was doing what he did best. Sleeping.

“Bear? Bear!”

The large, roly-poly boy startled awake. Not exactly being the brains of the group, he answered with a clear and resounding, “Hub?”

“You said he comes by this way nearly every morning,” Spalding said.

“Huh?” Bear repeated.

“The hermit? On the bike? Remember why we’re here?”

“Oh yeah,” Bear yawned, “and we’re gonna get him good. Real good.”

“That’s right,” KC agreed. “Who’s he think he ‘ is, hidin’ out in that house all the time? Only comin’ out at night. It ain’t natural.”

“That’s right,” Spalding said, straightening his tie. “Father says the man’s presence in the neighborhood is adversely affecting property value. The sooner he vacates our area the better.”

“And we’re gonna help him do just that,” KC snickered.

“Precisely,” Spalding said.

“Zzzz . . .” Bear snored.

Suddenly KC spotted something and pointed. “What’s that?”

Both looked up the street. A dark form was coming into view over the hill. The sun rose directly behind it, making it impossible to see all the details. Except it was somebody on a bike … wearing a long black overcoat … and a hat.

It’s him!” KC shouted.

“Excellent!” Spalding responded.

“Zzzz . . .” Bear replied.

“Bear,” KC hissed, “Bear, wake up!”

She gave him a punch in the gut, and he startled awake.

“Here he comes now,” Spalding whispered. “Everybody nice and quiet.”

The mysterious figure continued his approach.

All hands gripped their handlebars. Feet pressed down on the bike pedals as they waited in anticipation.

“Steady. . .” KC warned, “steady. .

The dark figure was nearly there.


Then at last, he passed.

“After him!” KC yelled.

All three kids pushed off. Their bicycles shot out of the bushes as they began the chase.

The stranger threw a look over his shoulder. Between his long coat with the turned-up collar and his hat, it was impossible to see his face. It was always that way. Ever since he’d moved in nearly six months ago, no one had ever seen him close up. No one had even talked to him.

He wouldn’t let them.

KC, Spalding, and Bear were about to change all of that. They were going to force him to make contact. They were going to scare the daylights out of him. And they were going to make him sorry he’d ever moved to Midvale.

As you’ve no doubt guessed, these three were not particularly interested in winning the Mr. Nice Guy (or Guyette) Award. At the moment they had one and only one purpose….

“Get him!” Bear yelled.

The stranger pedaled as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, his bike was an old clunker and no match for the kids’ multiple-speed bikes. They quickly closed in on him.

He was less than fifty feet ahead. In a matter of seconds, they’d catch up and force him off the road.

After that … well, who knew? But whatever they did, they’d make sure he understood he was not welcome.

Suddenly the stranger veered off to the left, heading down Sycamore Street.

“Where’s he going?” KC shouted. “He don’t live down there.”

“I’m uncertain!” Spalding yelled. “But he is not going to elude our capture. Not this time. After him!”