He stood there in a three-piece suit, looking startled.
Something was wrong. Besides the fact that no one was supposed to be at the Museum of Edgar Allan Poe, the employee opening up could see through the man's legs.
The first time it happened, a few weeks ago, the employee looked away. The second time, she got a better glimpse. Carmel-colored tweed and a bowler hat, still looking annoyed. She went online, where she dated the apparition to around 1870.
"Maybe we're interrupting each other's space," she says. "It hasn't returned."
The employee declines to be named, preferring to keep it all low-key until the paranormal investigators arrive. This is the Poe Museum, after all, and nothing in her story seems out of the ordinary.
The museum's curator, Chris Semtner, has heard it all — not that he believes. He's heard about the faces in the windows and the voices saying either "come in" or "leave," depending on night. The narrators often aren't reliable, he says. Just like in Poe's stories.
"Sometimes it's during Unhappy Hour," the museum's monthly un-party in the courtyard, "so you can't trust the veracity at that point."
As for the man in the three-piece suit, museum members may get to greet him at Poe's paranormal activity investigation Nov. 16. If he's in the mood.