At exactly 2:17 on a Monday morning, the refrigerator in Apartment 9B screamed.

Not beeped.

Not buzzed.

Not made the normal sound refrigerators make when they are having an identity crisis.

It screamed.

“AAAAAAAH!”

Three seconds later, someone screamed back.

“AAAAAAAH!”

That someone was Leo Butterfield, a twenty-six-year-old man who had absolutely no qualifications for dealing with haunted appliances.

He jumped out of bed.

His hair looked like it had been attacked by birds.

His pajamas had tiny ducks on them.

And one of the ducks was upside down.

Leo grabbed the nearest weapon.

A banana.

He stood in the hallway.

“Who’s there?”

Silence.

Then—

“LEOOOOOO!”

Leo screamed.

“WHO SAID THAT?”

The refrigerator answered.

“Me.”

Leo dropped the banana.

He stared at the kitchen.

The refrigerator door slowly opened.

A cold mist rolled across the floor.

Leo whispered,

“No.”

The refrigerator whispered,

“Yes.”

Leo ran back toward his bedroom.

He immediately crashed into his roommate.

Nina Pickleton.

Nina was twenty-four, extremely confident, and had the unique ability to sleep through earthquakes.

She looked at Leo.

“Why are you running?”

“The fridge talked.”

Nina blinked.

“Okay.”

“It talked!”

“Maybe you need sleep.”

“It said my name!”

She stared at the refrigerator.

The refrigerator stared back.

Nina slowly picked up a frying pan.

“Did it say anything else?”

The refrigerator spoke.

“You’re both standing in my light.”

Nina dropped the frying pan.

“Okay.”

She pointed at Leo.

“I believe you.”

---

The refrigerator door opened wider.

Inside were milk, cheese, vegetables, three bottles of sauce, and one mysterious orange.

The orange had been there for six months.

Nobody knew why.

Leo pointed at the fridge.

“Who are you?”

The refrigerator sighed.

“My name is Herbert.”

Nina frowned.

“You’re a refrigerator.”

“Correct.”

“And your name is Herbert.”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“Because the manufacturer gave me a name.”

Leo whispered,

“That’s terrifying.”

Herbert replied,

“I heard that.”

---

Nina walked closer.

“Why can you talk?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long have you been able to talk?”

“Since yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was embarrassed.”

Leo stared.

“You’re a refrigerator.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have emotions.”

“That’s rude.”

“Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

Nina crossed her arms.

“Then why did you scream?”

Herbert became quiet.

“I saw something.”

Leo’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“A murder.”

Silence.

Nina dropped the frying pan again.

Leo grabbed the banana.

“Who was murdered?”

Herbert’s door slowly opened.

“Someone in this building.”

---

Apartment 9B became the headquarters of the most ridiculous investigation in the history of the city.

Leo sat at the kitchen table.

Nina stood beside him.

Herbert hummed quietly.

“First question,” Leo said.

“What?”

“Who died?”

“I don’t know.”

Leo slammed his hands on the table.

“How do you not know?”

“I’m a refrigerator.”

“Right.”

“I saw a shadow.”

“What kind?”

“A suspicious one.”

Nina sighed.

“All shadows are suspicious at two in the morning.”

“Exactly.”

Leo stood.

“We need a detective.”

Nina looked at him.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I know someone.”

“Who?”

Leo smiled.

“My cousin.”

---

Twenty minutes later, someone knocked on the door.

Leo opened it.

A tall man entered.

He wore a black suit.

Black shoes.

Black sunglasses.

And carried a magnifying glass.

His name was Detective Bruno Waffles.

He was forty-two.

He had solved seventeen mysteries.

Unfortunately, fifteen of them involved missing socks.

He looked around.

“Where is the body?”

Leo pointed at Herbert.

“The refrigerator saw it.”

Bruno slowly looked at the fridge.

“Did it?”

“Yes.”

“Can it speak?”

Herbert answered,

“Obviously.”

Bruno jumped.

His magnifying glass flew into the air.

He caught it.

Then pretended nothing happened.

“I knew that.”

Nina raised an eyebrow.

“You screamed.”

“I was testing the acoustics.”

---

Bruno approached Herbert.

“Tell me what you saw.”

“I saw someone walking through the hallway at 2:03 a.m.”

“What did they look like?”

“Dark coat.”

“Height?”

“Approximately six feet.”

“Face?”

“I couldn’t see.”

“Anything unusual?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“They were carrying a cake.”

Bruno stopped.

“A cake?”

“Yes.”

Leo looked confused.

“What kind of cake?”

“Chocolate.”

Nina gasped.

“That’s serious.”

Bruno nodded.

“Very serious.”

Leo stared at them.

“Why?”

Bruno looked at him.

“Because nobody walks around at 2:03 a.m. carrying chocolate cake unless something suspicious is happening.”

Herbert beeped.

“Exactly.”

---

They began investigating the building.

Apartment 9A belonged to Mr. Harold Crumbs, a retired magician.

He opened the door wearing a bathrobe and one slipper.

“What do you want?”

Bruno showed his badge.

“Detective.”

Harold looked at the badge.

“Fake.”

Bruno looked offended.

“It’s real.”

“It says ‘Detective of Extremely Strange Problems.'”

“That’s my official title.”

Harold shrugged.

“What happened?”

“A murder.”

Harold’s eyes widened.

“Who died?”

“We don’t know.”

“Then how do you know there’s a murder?”

Bruno pointed toward Herbert.

“The refrigerator saw it.”

Harold stared at the fridge.

Then at Bruno.

Then back at the fridge.

“I need stronger tea.”

---

Apartment 9C belonged to Mrs. Doris Crank, a seventy-year-old woman who hated noise, people, dogs, children, music, elevators, and especially Mondays.

She opened the door.

“What?”

Bruno asked,

“Did you hear anything last night?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Someone screamed.”

Leo leaned forward.

“Who?”

“Me.”

“Why?”

“I saw a cockroach.”

Everyone nodded.

“Understandable.”

---

The final apartment belonged to Sammy Dough, the building’s delivery driver.

He opened the door while holding a pizza.

Bruno immediately pointed.

“Where were you at 2:03?”

Sammy looked confused.

“Working.”

“Delivering what?”

“Pizza.”

“To whom?”

“You.”

Bruno froze.

“I ordered pizza?”

Sammy checked the box.

“Apartment 9B.”

Everyone looked at Leo.

Leo slowly raised his hand.

“I did order pizza.”

“At 2:03?”

“Yes.”

Nina stared at him.

“Why were you ordering pizza at 2:03 in the morning?”

Leo shrugged.

“I was hungry.”

Herbert beeped.

“He’s always hungry.”

Leo pointed at the refrigerator.

“Stay out of this.”

---

Then Bruno noticed something.

There was chocolate icing on Sammy’s shoe.

Everyone stared.

Sammy looked down.

“Oh.”

Bruno stepped closer.

“Where did you get that?”

Sammy became nervous.

“I…”

He suddenly ran.

“STOP!”

Bruno chased him.

Leo chased Bruno.

Nina chased Leo.

Herbert shouted from the apartment,

“WAIT FOR ME!”

The refrigerator couldn’t move.

So he rolled one inch.

Then stopped.

“Never mind.”

---

The chase continued down the stairs.

Sammy ran through the lobby.

Bruno slipped on a newspaper.

Leo crashed into a plant.

Nina jumped over both of them.

Sammy reached the front door.

But suddenly—

BANG!

The door opened.

A giant chocolate cake rolled inside.

Everyone stopped.

The cake rolled across the lobby.

Straight toward them.

Bruno stared.

Leo stared.

Nina stared.

Sammy stared.

Then the cake stopped.

A small piece of paper was attached to it.

Bruno picked it up.

There were five words written on it:

THE MURDER HASN’T HAPPENED YET.

Everyone screamed.

Herbert’s voice echoed from upstairs.

“I told you!”

Bruno looked at the others.

“Nobody leaves this building.”

Leo swallowed.

“Why?”

Bruno looked at the cake.

“Because apparently…”

He slowly pointed toward the elevator.

“…we are supposed to stop a murder before it happens.”

The elevator doors opened.

Nobody was inside.

Except a single red balloon.

It floated upward.

And whispered:

“Run.”

Everyone screamed again.

The lights went out.

And somewhere in the darkness…

Someone started laughing.

TO BE CONTINUED…