Ghosted Again: The Spooky Truth Behind Homeowners Who Vanish After Getting a Painting Estimate

“This is where it happened… I can feel it.” Dan Leedor said the words slowly, his eyes sweeping the dimly-lit room, absorbing every detail. This wasn’t his first rodeo, unfortunately. As Lead Estimator at Tudors Down Painting, he’d seen more than his share of disappearances.
“You think so?” said Jackie Larson. She hung on every word Dan said, watching him as he investigated the space. “I mean, it makes sense. Artie loved to sit in that chair in the evening, just scrolling on his phone and playing Wordle.”
“And we already ruled out the bathroom,” Dan said. “This is definitely it.”
Dan moved toward a plush brown chair positioned between a gooseneck lamp and the pellet stove. His eyes narrowed. Cozy, inviting, and warm… Just the place where a 67-year-old man could be very, very comfortable.
Suddenly, without any warning, the specter-meter in Dan’s hands started squealing, growing even louder as he raised it toward the chair.
“I’m certain of it,” Dan said. “This is where Artie was last seen. The aura-print is still remarkably strong. And his phone is missing too?”
“Yes,” Jackie said with a sob.
“It all checks out. He requested the estimate at 10:53 pm, probably just before turning in.”
“And then he… disappeared?” Jackie asked, the tears really flowing now. “Actually disappeared, you’re saying?”
“We’ve seen it before, yes. All the time.” Dan ran his squealing specter-meter over the chair again as if to emphasize his point.
“But he…”
“Shh…” Dan put a finger to his lips, then lowered his head toward the finely-tuned instrument in his hand. The squeal had turned into a hissing crackle, almost like when someone clicks on a walkie-talkie. “I think he’s here.”
Jackie’s eyes widened, and she peered nervously around the room, clutching her hands together just under her chin.
“Mic me,” Dan said to his assistant, a not entirely enthusiastic apprentice.
Clicking the mic into place, Dan spoke softly: “Artie… we’re here. Can you hear us?”
Nothing.
“Can you hear us?”
Nothing.
“Try saying something,” Dan said, holding the mic toward Jackie. She took it, then spoke shakily.
“Artie… baby. It’s me, Jackie. Your wife. Are you… here?”
A few seconds went by, then the lights flickered softly. Just barely noticeable. Then, the specter-meter began to crackle again.
“Artie? Honey? It’s me, Jackie. You can talk to us.”
“Jackie?” said a hoarse voice from beyond, barely a whisper through the specter-meter… The apprentice’s eyes shot open wide, suddenly a believer.
“Artie, baby! I’m here!”
“I… I just wanted a ballpark,” said the voice on the other end. “You know, a price per room. For the paint job.”
“I know, baby, I know,” Jackie said. She looked pleadingly at Dan. “Please, what can we do?”
Dan sighed. “We’ll delete his contact info from our pipeline, then he’ll be back in no time. Don’t you worry.”
“Thank God,” said Jackie… “Thank you so much!”
Dan motioned that it was time to pack up.
“I think our work here is done,” he said. Then, with a longing look at the shabby walls and chipped trim, “Done before it even started.”