last person I'd expect to find camped out in my living room.
“Not that it isn't nice to see you,” I said, “but what are you doing here?”
“I had a vision of a little boy, lost in the woods, and knew I had to help the police find him.”
“Could that vision possibly have been on the evening news in New York?” I asked.
She grinned. “My sources are private.”
“How'd you get here so fast?”
“A friend put his plane and pilot at my disposal.”
I should have thought of that. Don't we all have friends with planes and pilots?
“That delightful man with the taxi, Uriah's Heap, met me at the airport. He told me you were staying here, and I was sure you wouldn't mind a houseguest.”
When I didn't say anything, she said, “You can't expect me to stay at a Days Inn. By the way, you really should pick a better place to hide your key, Tori. Those phony rocks from a catalog are too, too obvious. You might as well leave the door unlocked with a note on it saying ‘Help yourself.’”
While she spoke, her long, elegant fingers drifted through Fred's soft orange fur. He writhed in ecstasy.
I heard myself repeating what I'd heard so often from local people. “This isn't New York, you know. We don't worry about things like that here.”
It isn't that I don't like Praxythea; it's just that I feel totally inadequate every time I'm near her. She's beautiful while I'm ordinary, tall while I'm height disadvan-taged, and has a perfect figure while my weight would be okay if I were eight or nine inches taller. On top of all that she's rich, and her first book, Adrift on a Psychic Sea, which had just come out, was already on the New York Times best-seller list. Unlike mine, which was due to be remaindered any second now.
“You don't mind my staying here, do you?”
“No, of course not.” Praxythea hadn't become famous only because she was beautiful. She was also intelligent and witty. As a houseguest, she would be better company than those traitorous animals of mine.
“Would you get me another drink please, Tori? I don't want to disturb these darling cats.” Fred squirmed with pleasure and adjusted his tail.
I glared at him as I carried Praxythea's glass to the bar, where I poured an inch of Scotch into it. I didn't want to cloud those psychic vibrations she'd mentioned. Then I poured about three inches in another glass for myself. I had no vibrations to worry about, and as late as it was, I'd welcome a cloud—all I wanted to do was take a hot shower and get to bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day: I still had to write up my interview with the Pof-fenbergers and, of course, I'd want to keep up with the progress of the search parties.
I handed her the glass. “I'd better extinguish that fire,” I said. “The chimneys haven't been cleaned in years.”
“It's safe, Tori. I checked it out.”
“Physically or psychically?”
“Don't worry about it.”
I slumped into the armchair and hoped Ethelind had a good homeowner's policy. Still, I did have to admit it was nice to have a fire going. For the first time since I'd moved in, I was warm. The firelight cast a cozy glow upon the room, camouflaging the dust and the shabby upholstery, and making it easy to imagine how grand it must have been ninety years ago.
We sipped our drinks, and Praxythea filled me in on her most recent psychic adventures. Lulled by the warmth, her melodic voice, and the Scotch, I was nearly asleep when the sound of a car approaching on the gravel driveway startled me awake.
“What time is it?” I'd been meaning to get my Timex repaired for months.
“Only a little past one. That should be Luscious Miller.”
“Luscious! Why?”
“I called him a few minutes before you got home. I've offered to help him with his search for the boy.”
A moment later, there was a loud pounding at the back door.
“I'll get it.” Did I have any choice?
Luscious stood on the back porch, stripping off layers of clothing. I asked, “Any luck?”
He shook his head, so upset he didn't even bother to rearrange his hair over his bald spot. “Praxythea Evange-lista called me—said she's come all the way from New York to help us,” he said. “She found a missing murder victim for us back a few years ago. We're real lucky to have her.”
“Indeed we are.” I tried not to sound skeptical. After