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going on over there. For the hundredth time, I died on that damn operating table, and I don’t care what that doctor says. I died and was told to return so that I could keep an eye on that place.” Lest anyone doubt which place she meant, Bernice tilted her head toward the large property next door.
    â€œYou should let Sophie read the tarot for you. She’s good, knows her stuff. If anything is about to take place, she’ll know. Right, Soph?” Toots asked.
    The old woman shook her head so hard that wisps of gray hair came loose from her tightly wound bun. “No! You know I don’t believe in all that mumbo jumbo. I know what I was told to do, and it didn’t involve a bunch of crazy old ladies with a deck of cards and a glass.”
    Mavis giggled.
    Ida raised her chin a notch higher.
    Toots and Sophie grinned, and Jamie, as usual, didn’t utter a word.

Chapter 2
    â€œC razy old ladies?” Sophie chirped. “I’m ashamed of you, Bernice. I saved Ida from being killed by that fake doctor, talked to Marilyn Monroe’s ghost, solved the JFK assassination, well, sort of, and found that silly starlet who caused Chris all that trouble. You think I can’t help you with a little . . . premonition? Give me a break!” Sophie reached for the coffeepot in the middle of the table and refilled her mug. “In short, I got it going on.”
    â€œWho said anything about a premonition, or whatever the heck you want to call it? I’ve been telling all of you for weeks now that something is going to happen at that place next door. I don’t care if you believe me or not. I died on that operating table. I distinctly remember hovering above my body, wondering what the hell was going on. That good-looking doctor, you know, the one Toots has the hots for, had his hands on my heart, and the next thing I knew I was observing my own surgery. From there, well . . . you all should know the story by now since I’ve told you girls a thousand times exactly what I experienced. But you still won’t believe me. What is wrong with you people? And to think, you call yourselves psychics .”
    â€œThat’s Sophie’s department,” Toots corrected. “What I don’t understand is why you won’t let her read for you.”
    â€œI do,” Sophie interjected. “She’s afraid of the unknown.”
    Bernice had been home from the hospital for several weeks when Toots began to suspect that something was up with her. They were closer than sisters, and Toots had tried on several occasions to speak to her, to find out what was bothering her. She knew from her many conversations with Joe Pauley, her good friend and physician, and Dr. Phil Becker, Bernice’s cardiologist, that it wasn’t uncommon for people who came out of surgery to claim they’d had a near-death experience. Both he and Joe assured Toots that Bernice had not died during her surgery. Of course, Bernice disagreed.
    â€œI am not afraid of the unknown. I know something evil, bad, whatever you want to call it, is going to happen at Mrs. Patterson’s old place. When I was hovering between life and death, I knew it wasn’t my time when that beautiful bright being, and no, before you ask again, I don’t know what it was, but it was the brightest, most phenomenal experience I’ve ever had. I’ve told this story a dozen times. When I was pulled back into my body, the message I received was clear. It’s not your time. Go back. Watch the empty house next door. And I don’t give a flying hoot what you say. A tarot reading, a séance, whatever it is you all do, isn’t going to change things, isn’t going to prevent it, whatever it is, from happening. I’ll know when it happens. That’s all I can tell you,” Bernice said adamantly, then tipped her coffee mug back and drained the last of her cold coffee.
    Toots decided then and there they’d all