Free The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher by Jessica Fletcher Page A

watch. “I’m due for a break anyway. I can watch this thing called sageing before I get back to the office. Go ahead, Miss Olynski. I’m looking forward to this.”
    â€œYou must be quiet while I go about my business,” our medium warned.
    â€œCan I ask a question now and then?” Mort asked.
    â€œOnly if you must, but you must keep your voices low, or the spirits will gather around you instead of me.”
    Aggie handed me the jar of sand. “You carry that, Jessica, and have it available if I need it.” She turned on a burner on Cliff’s stove, lit the end of her smudge stick, and waited until the stick emitted a steady stream of smoke. Then, waving it in front of her body, she used the feather to guide the smoke toward herself, starting with her feet and ending with her head. “I have to cleanse myself first,” she explained.
    â€œDo we all have to be cleansed, too?” Eve asked.
    â€œShh! No questions now.”
    Aggie laid the stick in the shell and picked up her feather, waving it above the smoking stick. “We are standing in the heart of this home, the kitchen.” She traced the outlines of the windows and doors, and directed the smoke toward the ceiling and corners of the room. “Negative energy tends to gather in corners,” she explained as she took up a position in the center of the room. “Watch the smoke. If it moves sideways, the negative influences have not been cleared. It should go straight up.”
    The stream of smoke wavered for a moment and then wafted toward the ceiling.
    â€œAnd we proceed,” Aggie said.
    â€œCool, huh, Mrs. F?” Mort said, following the medium from the room.
    We left the kitchen in single file, Aggie waving her feather over the smoldering smudge stick, Mort right behind, me carrying the jar of sand, Eve hugging Cecil, and Davy bringing up the rear. I wondered briefly if our little parade would set off smoke alarms, if there were any. I hesitated to ask and break Aggie’s concentration. The sooner this was over, the better.
    We marched in a circle on the main floor. In each room, Aggie studied the movement of the smoke, muttered some incantations, and waved her feather. “I cleanse this room of its negative energy.”
Swish, swish
. “I invite in only positive forces to support whoever lives here.”
    Eve began to relax; she even looked amused. “Do Cecil and I have to worry about secondhand smoke?” She giggled at her own remark, but quickly stifled it after Aggie scowled at her and sent a puff of smoke her way.
    At the base of the stairs Aggie paused and looked down at the half-consumed smudge stick.
    â€œIs something wrong?” Eve asked.
    â€œI hope I brought enough sage,” Aggie replied. She shrugged her shoulders. “If not, I can always come back tomorrow.”
    I looked at Eve, who raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes at me, and I had the distinct impression that she was beginning to question her invitation to Arianna Olynski. I also wondered if it had occurred to her, as it had to me, that the medium might have purposely neglected to bring enough materials so that she’d need to return to finish the job, a clever way for the psychic to increase her fee.
    The five of us climbed the stairs to the next floor, the smoke trailing behind despite Aggie’s efforts to wave it ahead. “There must be a window open in one of these rooms,” she said.
    I felt my eyes stinging from the smoky air and was glad to reach the landing. Aggie seemed to be debating which direction to take when Cecil made the decision for her. He raced down the hallway, barking, and stopped in front of a closed door, where he scratched the wood with his claws.
    We followed Cecil, and when Eve opened the door, a gust of wind grabbed it, blowing it back against the wall with a loud bang.
    â€œWell, now we’re getting somewhere,” Aggie said, stepping across the