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flatly, “this place was already a disaster area. I just made it a little messier, that’s all.” He shook his head in disgust. “Besides, you did plenty to me. You ignored my friend—sent him away when he wanted to talk to you. And I’m not leaving until you give him a good listen, and that’s that.” He sat down solidly on the floor to make his point.
    â€œFriend? What friend?” Donata had no idea what the little man could be talking about. She didn’t know anyone with a Kobold.
    The Kobold snorted. “How many people did you ignore today, you can’t even figure out which one I mean? You must be one rude lady.”
    Donata fought the urge to pick him up and toss him out a window—he’d be right back anyway. “I’m no lady—I’m a cop. And I haven’t ignored anyone . . .” Her voice trailed off as she thought of one person she’d given the brush-off to.
    Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground and sat down opposite her uninvited guest.
    â€œYour friend—he wouldn’t be named Clive Farmingham, would he? The restorer at the museum?”
Oh, please, goddess, let me be wrong.
    The Kobold glared at her. “That’s right, missus. Clive was my friend, and he needs to talk to you real bad.” He folded his arms. “And I’m not going nowhere until you call him back and listen to what he has to say.”

Chapter Four
    For the second time that day, Donata watched the smoke from her incense coil around itself until it assumed a Human form. Within minutes of completing her summoning ritual, Clive Farmingham was standing in her living room. He looked a little hazier than he had earlier at the museum, but still much more solid than your usual ghost. Clearly, there was something important keeping him from moving on. Donata kicked herself mentally for not paying enough attention when he’d tried to speak to her before—if she wasn’t careful, they were going to revoke her Witch license.
    The Kobold leaned against the wall, out of the way but still very much present. Donata had promised him a chance to say good-bye to his long-time companion on the condition that he stopped messing around with her stuff.
    Farmingham had been agitated when he first manifested, but as soon as he realized she was prepared to listen, he calmed down somewhat. At the moment, he hovered an inch or two above the couch, as though he were trying to sit but not quite managing to align himself with the real world.
    Donata thought she’d better start off with an apology and some introductions. She gave a polite bow in the direction of the restorer and nodded her head at the Kobold, just for safety’s sake.
    â€œMr. Farmingham, sir,” she said. “I am deeply sorry that I did not give you my full attention earlier. Some unusual pressures distracted me from my job, but that is no excuse. I hope that you will accept my apology. My name is Donata Santori, and I promise, I am ready to listen to whatever it is you need to say now.” She snuck a look at the Kobold and was relieved to see a smile crease his already craggy face.
    The restorer gave her a wavering smile too. “I completely understand, Officer Santori. I confess, I was somewhat thrown by the . . . er . . . bodies . . . and was perhaps not as coherent as I might have been.”
    The Kobold rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the wall, strolling over to stand right outside the ritual circle.
    â€œDyin’ will do that to a person,” he said dryly. “She still shoulda paid more attention.”
    Farmingham made shushing motions with one noncorporeal hand. “Now, now, Ricky, the young lady has had a rough day too. Let’s not be rude.”
    â€œShe’s no lady, she’s a cop,” the Kobold corrected. “And I’m never rude. Just direct.” He and the restorer grinned at each other as if