George searched her memory of the phone call in question. At the time she'd only been paying half attention. She thought he'd been trying to sell the Book of Zuul, which George thought might be along the lines of the Book of Mormon or something. Annoying but harmless. George found the best way to deal with missionaries was to take their pamphlets politely and then close the door as quickly as possible.
But the people at the door were not missionaries and George realized she was sorely mistaken. And although she'd seen The Ghostbusters as a kid and even enjoyed watching the cartoon spinoff, she didn't recognize the name Dr. Venkman until she recognized him for the Bill Murray doppelganger that he was.
George, while not technically a ghost, was still very technically not alive. Trying to think quickly on her feet, which she'd gotten mildly okay as it was a part of the job description, she blurted an nearly incomprehensible sorry-wrong-apartment and slammed the door.
George turned the regular lock, the deadbolt and the nearly useless chain lock. Running into her room she grabbed the cellphone. Dexter was on speed dial. While waiting for him to pick up she hurriedly put on jeans and a pair of sneakers. She got his voicemail.
"Dexter fuck! Ghostbusters. At my door. Fuck fuck fuck! Pick up!" He didn't and she hung up.
While her apartment didn't have style it did have a fire escape, which George was trying to use right at that very moment.