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     to her car. She had less than an hour to drop off the loot at WATS downtown and make
     it to Maeva’s.
    She was lucky enough to find parking right in front of the brown brick low-rise. The
     only indication that she was at the right place was a small piece of paper taped to
     the glass door with “WATS” handwritten on it. Sadie pushed the door open and looked
     around. The space was cozy with a few round tables and folding chairs and a corner
     station with tar-like coffee simmering on a burner. Sadie stood next to a credenza
     littered with pamphlets that were free for the taking so that women coming in for
     help could pick up brochures on various helpful courses offered around town, and there
     were also pamphlets listing rehab centers as well as a sheet listing local shelters.
     She randomly picked up a handful of brochures and shuffled them in her hands.
    There were a couple older women who looked like they might be volunteers. One of them
     got up from her chair and greeted Sadie.
    “Can I help you?” asked the dark-skinned woman of about fifty.
    “Do you work here?”
    “I’m a volunteer. My name is Enid.” She looked Sadie up and down appraisingly, obviously
     trying to decide if she was a working girl or just lost.
    “I was a friend of May Lathrop’s,” Sadie said, mildly stretching the truth.
    “Oh! That poor dear!” Enid’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes welled up with tears.
     “She was one of our favorites, and she was trying so hard to leave the streets behind.”
    Sadie nodded. “She had a bit of savings and jewelry set aside for her future. She
     wanted your organization to have it.” Sadie handed over May’s treasures.
    “That’s just like her.” Enid clutched the envelope to her chest without looking inside.
     “Thank you so much for bringing it by. We’re always looking for donations of any kind.
     Did you know her long?”
    “Just long enough to know she thought highly of the work you do here.”
    “It’s just the few of us ladies and a couple of clergy who run this place, but we
     like to feel that we’re making a small difference.”
    Sadie assured her that May talked highly of all they did for her, and then she left
     the building. When she climbed back inside her car Sadie felt good. She was glad she’d
     taken the time to deal with May’s last request. She realized she still held a handful
     of brochures that she’d picked up off the table inside WATS. Absently, she tossed
     the papers into the side pocket of the car door as she pulled away from the curb and
     headed to Maeva’s place.
    ***
    When Sadie left the house that night, she was dressed in her black jeans, Nikes, and
     a T-shirt. She didn’t know if there was a dress code for séances, but she was going
     with comfort just in case. However, when she pulled up to Maeva’s house, her friend
     darted out the front door, a flash of purple in a flowing peasant skirt with a dozen
     gold chains around her neck. She looked like a wannabe-gypsy experiment gone wrong.
    Maeva hopped into the passenger seat of Sadie’s Corolla and smiled.
    “Is it over the top?” she asked, indicating her purpleness with a wave of her hand.
    “Oh nooo,” Sadie said, backing out of the driveway. “You look . . . like you’re ready
     to get out.”
    “Got that right,” Maeva said, blowing out an excited breath and then a giggle. “The
     minute Osbert was done feeding I passed him off to Terry and ran out the door.” She
     glanced at her watch. “By midnight I gotta be back for the next round, but right now
     I’m Cinderella off to the ball.”
    “I don’t know if I’d compare a séance to a ball, but whatever,” Sadie remarked.
    “Who said anything about a séance?”
    “You did.” Sadie frowned. “Didn’t you?”
    “I said Rick and Rosemary Thingvold were going to a home tonight. I never said they
     were going there to do a séance.” She pointed up ahead. “You’ll want to take the next