'Courtesy of my mom's most recent visit. As are the curtains, throw rug, pillows… I probably have the only place in town where the accessories are worth more than the furniture. Every day I'd go to work, come back and find something new, then she'd explain how she chose the fabric or the color. Still trying to teach me how to accessorize. I keep telling her it's a lost cause-a gene I failed to inherit, among many.' She grinned. 'Moms, huh? They drive you nuts, but you know they're only doing it because they love you.'
I nodded as if I knew what that felt like. She fluffed a pillow, a wistful look passing behind her eyes.
'You and your mother are close?' I said.
An almost embarrassed smile. 'Yeah. I'm the baby. This is my first time living more than a few miles from home.' She walked to the fridge. 'Can I get you something cold? Or tea? Coffee?'
'Water would be fine.'
She handed me a Perrier. 'Also courtesy of Mom. When she saw my cheap bottled water, she had to take me aside for a little heart-to-heart on the state of my finances.'
She got a Dr. Pepper for herself. 'Have a seat-Oh, I'd better clear my mail off the table.'
She sorted as she cleared it, fixing bills to the fridge and tossing junk mail in the trash. An expensive vellum envelope formally addressed to 'Miss Hope Adams' went into a basket with a small stack of others.
'Invitations?' I said as I pulled out a chair. 'I wasn't that popular even after living in L.A. for a decade.'
'My mom, again. When she was down, she had to make the society rounds. Not really her thing, but it's expected, if only to make connections for her chairty and philanthropy work.'
I nodded, as if I knew all about high society.
'So…' Hope waved at the basket. 'Now they all know that Nita Adams's youngest daughter is in town, and they're inviting me to garden parties and luncheons, to check out my suitability.'
'Suitability?'
She grinned. 'As a wife, of course. Never been married. College graduate. Getting a little long in the tooth at twenty-eight, but if I'm half as pretty, witty, charming and well bred as my mother, then they'll overlook that and find me a match among their eligibles.'
'That sounds very…'
'Arranged?' Her grin broadened. 'Society here can be worse than in Bombay. In some families, background is still more important than making a love match. My father's family came over on the
'You never know. You're a rare form of half-demon, which means your dad is probably pretty high up the ladder. Royal blood on both sides.'
JEREMY ARRIVED and together we told her what we were investigating. 'So, this group, the ones you think have broken the magic barrier, presumably they'd be local, right?' she said. 'Or at least have a local branch. That's why the ghosts would be here.'
'Most likely,' Jeremy said.
'Then I know the perfect people for you to talk to. Some paranormal scam-busters. They know every person and rumor connected to the supernatural. They hooked up with me shortly after I came to town and we've been trading tips ever since.'
'Scam-busters?' I said.
'You know what paranormal investigators are?'
'The bane of supernaturals everywhere.'
'Think of these guys as the opposite. Instead of trying to prove that the paranormal exists, they try to uncover the scams and the frauds.'
'Like unmasking TV spiritualists?'
'Oh…' She paused. 'I hadn't thought of that. But it shouldn't be a problem. I can't imagine these guys taking an interest in you. If you were bilking windows of their life savings for passing messages to their husbands, you'd be on their radar. But that's not what you do. If you're uncomfortable, though, Mr. Dan-Jeremy and I could meet with them…'
'No, I'll be fine. I might not be their favorite sort of person, but we'll come up with a good cover story.'
HELPLESS
WE LEFT HOPE TO THE ARRANGEMENTS. In the meantime, Jeremy would make the telephone check-in rounds again, seeing whether Robert, Paige or Clay had anything new for us. As for me, as much as I hated being distracted from the investigation, I had a job to do. Time for the Gabrielle Langdon seance.
We wound up not at Langdon's house-where she'd been murdered-but at a place down the street, where she'd gone for a few community barbecues. As for why her ghost would linger there, the intro would give some heart-tugging speech about the good times she'd had in that place, and how those memories would attract her far more than the nightmares she experienced at her house. I'd bet my retirement savings, though, that this was at the end of a long list of potential sites, all of which had refused access.
Only after we arrived did Becky announce the subject of the seance. While we waited for Dr. Robson to set up his 'electronic voice phenomena' equipment, Angelique sidled over to me.
'Isn't this exciting?' she said. 'Lord knows, I was barely more than a tot when poor Gabrielle died, but I remember Daddy talking about it in church. He was certain the husband did it. A soccer player, wasn't he?'
'Baseball.'
She nodded, processing.
'San Diego Padres,' I added. 'Star pitcher.'
Her eyes narrowed as if suspecting me of feeding her false information. Then she lowered herself onto the bench beside a statue of a nymph that, apparently in keeping with Hollywood standards, had undergone a boob job. I glanced at the statue. Angelique followed my gaze, let out a squeak and vacated the bench, lest she be photographed under it. Not inconceivable-the cameraman was prowling the garden, getting his setup shots.
'Maybe you can give me some advice, Jaime. I know- Well, I get the impression you don't like me very much-'
'Then you're getting the wrong one, hon. I'm always thrilled to see a new star in the making. Plenty of room for all of us.'
She lifted limpid eyes to mine. 'Really? Lord, you don't know what that means to me. I've idolized you my whole life, waiting for this moment, hoping you'd still be around-'
'So you wanted to ask…?'
A quick glance toward the others. 'Your advice. I just don't think it's fair, picking seances with these people that I've barely even heard of. It's… what's the word? Ageist.'
'Ageist?' I tried not to laugh. Tried even harder not to remind her she was supposed to be getting her stories from the dead, not from memories of past events. 'I suppose it is.'
'I think Becky has me scheduled to go first, and I was wondering whether there was any way you might…'
'Switch spots with you? Be happy to.'
'Really? Oh, gosh, that's so sweet of you. So you'll go first and I'll take the last place, which is hard, but I think I can manage-'
Becky approached, shaking her head. 'I'm sorry, Angelique, but the positions are set. Jaime goes last.'
'I thought Mr. Grady had the last spot.' Claudia hurried over. 'What's this? Another change?'
I raised my hands. 'I don't know what order we're supposed to go in, but I'll take whatever works for you two. First, second, last, your choice.'
'No, Jaime, I'm afraid it isn't,' Becky said. 'You're scheduled last. I can't change that.'
As she spoke, she shot nervous glances at me. Had I been the other two, I'd have interpreted those glances to mean Becky was indeed fol-lowing orders: my orders. Protest, and I'd sound like a two-faced poseur. Take Becky
