I shook my head. "It's your first big seance and I insist you take the premier position."

She opened her mouth, but there was little she could say to that. I accepted Grady's proffered arm and we headed upstairs.

WHEN I realized they planned to hold this seance in the garden, I thought of the presence I'd felt there earlier and a chill ran through me. As bizarre as it might seem, I avoid mixing necromancy and spiritualism whenever possible. I use my powers to give me an edge, but under controlled circumstances. When I'm booking a show in a new city, I always visit the venues myself first, to make sure there aren't any resident ghosts. Nothing buggers up a fake seance more than having a real ghost screaming in your ear.

So I stepped into that garden, steeled against the first sign that my reluctant spirit had returned. But, to my relief, the presence of others seemed to scare it off. Or, if I was really lucky, it had given up and moved on.

We stole into the gardens like schoolkids cutting out on a class trip, snickering and whispering, hoping the neighbors didn't overhear.

It was midnight. The witching hour, which I'm sure the writers would make a big deal of when they wrote the introduction to this segment. The full moon and the wind rustling through the bushes didn't hurt.

"Too bad we can't do it next door," someone said. "Right at the site of the murder. That's where she was found, wasn't it?"

"Near the pool house." Becky turned to the cameraman. "Can we get it in the backdrop?"

"Perhaps we could get some dirt from the site," Grady said.

Becky looked at the security crew. "Any volunteers?"

"I will," I said.

All heads turned my way.

"Oh, come on," I said. "What will film better? A security guard jumping that fence? Or me?" I turned to Angelique. "Unless you want to."