Knowing his brother, Beau would still be in the bathroom, going through the ritual of combing his hair until not a strand was out of place, and shaving so carefully and thoroughly that his face took on a baby-smooth sheen.

“See you in a few hours!” Daniel put a hand to the door. The flies stirred, then resettled, their very sluggishness seeming to mock the heaviness that seemed so much a part of Daniel these days.

It was going to rain, Daniel told himself. Flies always wanted in when it was going to rain.

“Wait!” Beau’s shout came from the dark recesses of the house. “Wait for me.”

Daniel’s shoulders sagged. He’d been afraid of this.

Beau hurried as much as Beau could hurry, which meant it was a full three minutes before he stepped from the bathroom, every hair in place, his striped polo shirt tucked snugly into neatly creased jeans.

“You can’t come,” Daniel told him.

“Why?” Beau’s blue eyes held surprise. “Aren’t you picking that lady up at the train station? I love trains. You know I love trains.”

Daniel didn’t want to keep Beau from seeing the train, he wanted to keep him from seeing the lady, the psychic. To Daniel’s supreme irritation, the town of Egypt had hired a damn psychic. Daniel had agreed to pick her up so he could give her his personal welcome, which he hoped might just end with their guest purchasing a ticket back to the voodoo land she’d come from. The encounter wouldn’t be pleasant, but somebody had to do it.

“The lady’s name is Clara,” Beau stated with authority.

“Who told you that?”

“I heard you talkin’ to Jo about her. Said her name was Clara. Clara Voiyant.”

Daniel laughed. “Her name’s Cleo Tyler, although I think I like your name better.”

“Cleo. That’s a weird name.”

“Maybe it’s short for Cleopatra,” Daniel joked.

“That’s even weirder.”

“No shit.”

Beau shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What key is she going to find?”