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supporters of the Humane Society."
    They were both big, at any rate. But I adored both women. Mrs. Bissel was probably my second-best client, and much easier for me to deal with than Mrs. Pinkerton, mainly because she never had hysterics. Well, and she'd also given me Spike. Mrs. Hanratty was not only the mother of the current, number-one, top screen idol, Monty Mountjoy, but she also had taught Spike's obedience training course.
    "When do you plan to have the party, Mrs. Pinkerton?"
    "I looked at my calendar, and I think most of my friends will be back in town by the second week in February. How about Saturday, February ninth? Will that fit in with your schedule?"
    Of course it would. My schedule didn't have so many events on it that I even had to check. Nevertheless, in an effort to make Mrs. Pinkerton think I was busier than I was so she'd appreciate me more, I said, "Let me check my appointment book, and I'll be right back with you." I allowed the receiver to dangle for a moment, making sure it didn't hit the wall and cause permanent damage to Mrs. Pinkerton's eardrums. When I picked it up again, I said, "That date will be perfect, Mrs. Pinkerton. When would you like me to appear, and will you be providing the tent?"
    "Oh, wonderful! You should probably arrive about seven-thirty so you can get yourself set up. The other guests will be invited to arrive at eight. And yes, Harold is making the tent. You know Harold." She spoke of her son fondly, as was only his due.
    And I certainly did know Harold. He was, in fact, one of my very best friends. "That's wonderful. I'm sure he'll make a most... colorful tent." If I knew Harold, he'd dig up every arcane symbol from every occult group or religion he could think of and plaster them all over the fortune-teller's tent for his mother's party. Very artistic, Harold. He worked as a costumier at a motion-picture studio in Los Angeles.
    I wanted to ask her if her no-good, evil daughter would honor us with her presence, but I didn't. Sufficient unto the day, and all that. Besides, if Stacy had back-slid, Mrs. Kincaid would be wailing at me. Nevertheless, I hoped Stacy would stay away from the party.
    "That sounds good. I'll be looking forward to it."
    "Um... Daisy?"
    Oh, dear. What did she want now? Bet I knew. "Would you like me to wear a Gypsy costume? Or perhaps one in keeping with the party's theme? Probably a Gypsy would be better, since Gypsies are associated with spiritualism. I'll be happy to do that." I did it every time any of my clients hosted a charity ball or party, in fact.
    "As long as you don't think wearing a costume beneath your dignity, dear. Everyone knows you're the best spiritualist-medium in Pasadena, so I don't think appearing as a Gypsy would damage your reputation any."
    "No, I don't think it would. I've done such things before, if you'll recall."
    "Yes, I know. But I always... I don't know. Hesitate. Do you know what I mean? Because you're so important to me, and you help so many people with your gifts, it seems... Oh, how to express it? Unseemly, somehow, to ask you to dress up in a silly costume."
    "I'll make sure my costume isn't silly," I assured her.
    "That's why I hope you'll be a Gypsy and not some kind of animal."
    "No animals. I promise. A Gypsy will do quite well, I think."
    "Good. I knew you'd be able to think of just the thing to wear to such a party. The guests, you see, will be arriving in various animal costumes."
    Good Lord. In that case, I knew my dignity wouldn't be assailed. I'd be telling fortunes for dogs and cats and horses and pigs, for Pete's sake. It was the guests whose dignity I'd worry about, if I were Mrs. P.
    Thank everything on earth and in heaven, I'm not.
    We ended our telephone call cordially, and I sauntered back to the dining-room table, took my seat, and told everyone about Mrs. Pinkerton's planned charity party.
    "She's holding it to raise funds for the Pasadena Humane Society," I told my family and Sam. "Which I think is a