His black eyes sparkled with amusement. “Are you usually this blunt?”

“When I’m being lied to, yes.”

“But there is a Juanita. She has long black hair-”

“And plays the castanets and has a rose between her teeth. Forget it,” snapped Agatha. “So what do you plan to do about the haunting?”

“I thought I’d run over there and offer my services. Care to join me?”

“Don’t see why not,” said Agatha. “When shall we go?”

“What about now?”

“Okay. Finish your tea and I’ll get changed.”

“No need for that. Your housewifely appearance might reassure Mrs. Witherspoon.”

“Tcha!” said Agatha. She left the kitchen and ran upstairs. She put on a cool pink-and-white-striped shirtwaister dress and then carefully applied make-up. She longed to wear high heels, but the day was hot and swollen ankles would not look chic. She sighed and pushed her feet into a pair of low-heeled sandals.

She was half-way down the stairs when she realized she had forgotten to put on tights. A hot day minus tights would mean the straps on her sandals would scrape across her feet and the skin of her thighs under the short dress might stick to the car seat. She went back to her bedroom and struggled into a pair of tights labelled “One Size Fits All,” reflecting that whoever put that slogan on the packet had been thinking of a skinny fourteen-year-old. She looked in the mirror. The effort of putting on the tights in a hot bedroom had made her nose shine. She powdered it too vigorously and got a sneezing fit. By the time she had finished sneezing, her make-up was a wreck, so she had to redo it. Right! A last look in the full-length mirror. God! The buttons at the bosom of her shirtwaister were straining. She took it off and put on a white cotton blouse and a cotton skirt with an elasticated waist.