My grandfather debunked ghost stories, and his last investigation killed him.

My grandfather tried to disprove ghost stories. He didn't like being called an investigator because, as he often said, "there's nothing to investigate, only to prove wrong." He never believed, which made Houdini look bad (for those who didn't know, Houdini was a big sceptic). He knew what every bump in the night or strange shadow in a picture meant. Over the course of his work, Gramps was called to hundreds or even thousands of homes, buildings, and places. Some people were scared that their doors and art would fall, while others wanted to see how good he was. He could always show the homeowners that their floors were sloped in a way that made the doors slam when the windows were open or that their paintings were hung on plasterboard and the nails would come loose over time. People tried to trick him, but they were never able to. He found their secret rooms or fake floors, and in more modern times he became very good at Photoshop.

When I was scared that there was a monster under the bed or in the wardrobe, I would call Gramps. He would tell me not to worry. He made me feel better, and soon we were working together, which kept me busy in high school. When I was in college, it was great because he turned it into an internship for me, and I got extra credit for going into people's homes and learning how he did his job. I had no plans to take over the family business, but I loved spending time with him. I had other things to do, so he wouldn't take me on all of his trips. One trip in…