"Perhaps you would like to lie down for a few minutes while we continue with the séance," Bettina said kindly. "There is a sofa in the reception room which you are welcome to use."

I looked from person to person, then to Sarah.

"Didn't you just see the two women who came in here?" she asked them all.

All four of them shook their heads.

"No one? You're telling us you didn't see anyone else come into the room?" Sarah asked, her hands on her hips.

"No," Milo said. "No one but the six of us."

"Unauthorized visitors are not allowed at client séances," Bettina added. "Shall we continue?"

"What's going on?" Sarah asked, confusion written all over her face. It probably mirrored mine.

I shook my head very, very carefully. "I have no idea, but I think it's time to leave."

"Definitely," she said, helping me to my feet and opening the door for me. I felt like I had been run down by a steam roller. My head and shoulder were hurting so much it was making me sick to my stomach. Sarah paused at the doorway and looked back at the four people at the séance table. "You English are just downright mean sometimes!"

Chapter 6

"Well?" Sarah asked the next morning as I staggered into the small room on the first floor that the pub owner said would serve as our private dining room.

"I'm still alive, my head is still attached to my body, and no other evil elderly people tried to beat the crap out of me after I went to bed," I said, slumping gratefully into a chair.

"Did you talk to the police yet?"

"Just got off the phone with them. Good morning, Darla. Yes, thank you, coffee and toast. And perhaps an egg, and that delicious-looking marmalade. Is there any bacon? Oh, good. I'll have some bacon, too. And a grapefruit, if you have one."