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I gave myself a little extra sleep the next morning, to make up for last night's work, as well to give time zones a chance to catch up with one another. I was at my favorite table at the Has Bean Café, pad and pen at the ready, placing a call to Tucson. My call was answered by a somewhat laconic voice, perhaps one not yet caffeinated. "Adcock, Filby, and Waterston."

I identified myself, my title, and my position, then asked for Mr. Waterston.

"Speaking," the voice said. "We don't have a lot of staff here, and my happily indulgent office administrator is on a run for coffee, promising me that it really isn't a demeaning task at all."

Chuckling, I raised my cup in a salute that he couldn't see. "All hail the sacred bean."

The returning chuckle helped to reaffirm his good nature. "I'm not often contacted by Charonites, Ms. McLeroy. May I ask if this is an official call?"

"Not at the moment. In other words, I've no reason to think that my meeting with Wallace Mesa Dog has anything to do with foul play."

"Now you do surprise me." I had the impression of the person on the other end of the phone sitting up a little straighter. "Why would he be there?"

"You don't seem to doubt my word."

"Not all humans are so certain of their own lives and world, Ms. McLeroy. I make the assumption that you are therian?"

"Vixen."

"My client was Zuni coyote." A voice can't nod, but I had the impression of it. "I appreciate intelligence, and Wally was very bright indeed. I'll make the guess that you found my name and information from the papers that I drew up for him, for his non-profit."

"Also the executor of his will," I added.

Again, the sense of a nod. "They were almost one in the same. The store, the charity -- they were his life. As proprietor of the store, and as the Ex-O of the charity, he was entitled to draw a salary. He took barely enough to live on, to make sure that the charity got as much money as possible. I don't know if First Peoples have saints, but he'd qualify, despite the stories about Coyote being the trickster in the various tribal stories."

"What's the story behind Jumping Mouse?"

The man on the other end of the call chuckled softly. "I'd bollix it up; you'd be better off finding the full text online. It's basically a story about trusting your heart and giving what you can to others who may have lost something of their own. Do you know Wally's story? Has he told you?"

"He hasn't had the chance yet." I was finding myself quite pleased by this fellow. He seemed both sympathetic and understanding of a Charonite's work; it was growing clear why Wally had trusted him.

"Oh, thank you, Miriam," he said to someone in his office. "Did you get...? You are miraculous, I hope you know. Thank you. Splendid." Back to me, Waterston said, "She is absolutely wonderful. Pardon me one moment while I jump-start my brain."

I heard a brief soliloquy about "the juice of Saphu," spoken without a flaw, then a pause, followed by a sound known to all coffee-drinkers as "the first sip sigh of satisfaction." I couldn't suppress a giggle, and he joined me.

"As you said, all hail the sacred bean!" After another chuckle, he cleared his throat and began again. "Wally Mesa Dog found himself dragged into Hell, then dragged himself back, almost without help. His main addiction was alcohol -- all too common on the rez, as you probably know -- with peyote and datura in a tie for second place. He was careful enough with the plants to avoid poisoning, generally, but he misjudged the age of a certain datura plant; its poison was more concentrated, which happens as the plants grow older. Wally nearly died, and it taught him a lesson. He also had a vision, he said, one similar to the story of Jumping Mouse. He took both, together, as a sign that he had to clean up and then help others to do the same."

"That's a long climb," I said wonderingly. "And a very deep vision, if it was enough to help him get sober and stay that way."

"He was a man... excuse me, a coyote possessed. He worked long hours, volunteered when he could, and he was scrupulous to a fault with his finances; Jumping Mouse was highly listed in the charity watchdog sites. He put 22 years of his life into that store. I was sad to see it shut down."

"Why was that?"

"Wally's will was simple and straightforward. He had almost no personal assets at all, and no debts. He didn't own Jumping Mouse, so that wasn't the issue. There wasn't a problem with the store or the charity, either, except that it was wrapped up with Wally so much that there was really no one to take it over. The 'governing board' of the charity was of the 'name only' type, and it included me. Trouble was, I seemed to be the only person interested in keeping the thing going. No one else would have anything to do with it, pleading a lack of time. I'm afraid I did the same thing, ultimately. I searched as best I could to find suitable individuals who would work for the charity's best interests, and I came up empty. I talked with the beneficiaries of the charity's donations, and they too had no one who could take over the shop. Ultimately, the assets were liquidated, with the proceeds split equally between the three charities"

"So much for the cui bono idea," I sighed softly.

Waterston's voice gave me the impression of his leaning forward, expressing interest. "You think that he was murdered?"

I paused only a moment. "Mr. Waterston, you've shown a great deal of respect to me and my calling, so I will trust to your discretion as well."

"With such a compliment, I insist that you call me Jack."

"Only if you'll call me Naomi." I will admit to being charmed; perhaps that's why I plunged ahead. "A Charonite usually finds souls of those who have been killed suddenly, without time to prepare for departing the body, or who hope to find someone to listen to their story, perhaps to get some measure of closure or justice. If you'll forgive species stereotyping, a great many humans in official places aren't always as diligent in their duties, when it comes to therians."

"You have every right to be suspicious, Naomi. It happens all too often. In this instance, I trust the county's ME completely; I've known him for years, and he brings his A-game to everyone who has the misfortune of being brought to his offices. He wouldn't have ruled a slip-and-fall just for the sake of convenience. And before you say it: No offense was taken."

"You're a rare breed yourself, Jack." I found myself smiling a little, saying a silent promise to Philip that he wasn't being replaced. "It remains to me, then, to find out why he's here."

"Is he reluctant to speak?"

"Quite the contrary. When I visited him, he was quite vocal about the owner. The trouble is that he's using a lot of his energy, for lack of a word, to cause poltergeist-like phenomena. The theory goes that telekinetic phenomena has to be made to happen through the application of mental or spiritual energy. There's no way to know if it's easier for a non-corporeal spirit to do it, but if Wally is any indicator, it must get easier as time goes by."

"Has he really been making things move?"

"The shop is located on Mariposa Drive, a street with several blocks of boutiques and at least one Romany fortune teller named Madame Roma told me that the shop was considered 'haunted' by many of the other proprietors. She used the word 'poltergeist' herself."

"She sounds knowledgeable."

"I'm not sure how this might sound," I ventured, "but I think she's genuinely psychic."

"From a Charonite, that's high praise." The attorney paused, perhaps for another sip of coffee, then began again. "I don't pretend to know everything about your calling, much less about you in particular, Naomi. That's me, summing up for what may be a foolish question."

"No such thing, outside of the courtroom."

He chuckled. "Touché! Okay, here goes. "We've ruled out his being murdered, so what's keeping Wally tethered, especially out there?"

I considered for a moment. "You'd mentioned that the shop's assets had been liquidated."

"An object? Something in the materials from the shop is connected to him?"

The smile on my muzzle came easily. "You're quick, Jack."

"I hope it's a case of 'great minds'." His voice smiled back. "Give me your number; I'll check the files and get back with you as quickly as I can."

"Thank you, Jack. You're a great help."

"Wally was a great guy. I hope I can do right by him."

* * * * * * * * * *

Jack was as good as his word. He called back a few hours later and walked me through the essential information. In short, the entire contents of Jumping Mouse Gifts and Resale was sold for a disappointingly small sum, partly to get out from under the costs of warehousing the goods in a storefront whose owner was eager to re-let. Everything was boxed up and shipped here, under the auspices of a holding company led by a certain James Abernathy Porter, who I suspected was now billing himself as Jimmy Spotted Pony. I made a note of his name and that of his holding company, hoping that Ren might be able to get a line on him. The more I could find out about him, the better.

I had one other line of enquiry to pursue: Getting more information from Wally. To do that, I needed a way to talk with him without the proprietor of the store getting wind of it. I needed an accomplice to distract the human. I knew exactly who could help, and I lured her into the web of my intended deceit through our shared love of the sacred bean.

Lillian Braddock met me at the coffee shop on the corner of Mariposa and Timothy the following day, taking a long lunch from her duties as Lead CSI for our county. Boss, mentor, friend, and co-conspirator, she was delighted by the dark roast that I had discovered there, and we went over our game plan. She was receptive to the details of the deceit.

"You're asking a lot of me just to claim that I admired that hideous necklace you're sporting."

Chuckling, I told her the story of how Wally Mesa Dog managed to help me freak out the owner entirely. Lillian threw back her head and laughed with the unrestrained pleasure that she found in the act. She took it as a compliment when I told her, on a similar occasion, that she might well join me for a howl at the moon. What some human males condescendingly call a "full-figured woman," Lillian's personality would have been too much for a svelte and slinky body to hold. I had the idea that she would have made a good badger, in another life.

"You think you can get the coyote to talk to you?"

"I think that he really wants to. I have no idea what he wants to say, but he definitely wants to say it."

"With any luck, I should be able to convince that phony Injun that I'm an ignorant white woman who needs to attract a man."

The snerk that came out of me almost cost me some coffee, which would have been a sin against the bean. Lillian held in her own mirth as an apology. "Just don't agree to go on a date with him!" I finally managed to say. "I think he'll be glad to have an excuse to stay away from me while I'm in there. He's not likely to forget 'the rising beads' of yesterday's visit."

"Are there stones out there to attract someone?"

I had to smile at the question. "Unfortunately, you can find all sorts of 'experts' who will tell you anything to get you to buy something. No one seems to agree on specific stones or crystals, in terms of their properties. Everything seems to come down to 'grounding,' which is fairly obvious." I cocked my head, glanced at my friend with a smile. "Are you considering...?"

"Not seriously," she smiled back at me. "There's always that thought, though, isn't there?" Standing, she picked up her now-empty cup to put it into the trash bin near the door. "Let's go knock on Geronimo's door."

Chuckling, I followed her out the door, just in time to hear a familiar voice call out, "You've got a lucky face, my dear! You'll get a fine husband."

Lillian had turned toward the teller of fortunes, smiling. "Funny you should say," she offered with a gentle laugh. "We were just talking about that."

I stepped around my friend to make the introductions. "Lillian Braddock, meet Madame Roma."

"You travel in good company," the seer observed, still smiling.

Lillian bowed slightly. "Good to meet you. I wasn't sure if you cared to shake hands."

At this, Madame Roma's eyebrow went up slightly. "You are sensitive, I think."

"Naomi has taught me a lot."

"And well." The fortune teller extended her hand, and Lillian took it gently, not shaking the way Jimmy Spotted Pony did. After a moment, I saw the eyes of both women relax. I had the feeling that they had just made a kind of bond. "Do you feel that you have the gift?"

"More like being receptive to those who do. I may come back to speak with you more about this."

"I would like that, Ms. Braddock."

"It's 'Doctor,' but to you, it's Lillian." They released their hands. "Thank you for trusting me."

"It is mutual." Madame Roma turned back to me. "You have taught each other, I think."

"Very much so."

She nodded. "Let me know what happens there. At the risk of sounding like a cliché, I have sensed something changing. Go carefully."

We thanked her and set on our short way to whatever it was that had changed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Entering the shop, Lillian turned on her theatrical abilities with a toned-down version of "awestruck." She began a soft monologue about the "amazing" items in this "quaint little shop," and "I can see what you love about this place." It was just loud enough to attract the proprietor from the back of his shop. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me, but Lillian saw her cue and took control.

"Oh, hello; are you the owner? Naomi told me about this shop when I asked her about her new necklace. I just had to come down to see the place for myself. It's wonderful in here!"

Jimmy Spotted Pony (or, as I suspected he might be, James Porter) moved to welcome her and avoid me, which I made easier for him by placing myself a little closer to the front windows. "I'm glad you think so," he said to her. "Welcome. I'm Jimmy Spotted Pony."

Lillian moved yet closer, glancing surreptitiously over her shoulder toward me. "I do so hope that you can help me. I'm looking for..." She got closer to the other human and stage-whispered, "something to help me find a husband."

Looking toward the back of the store, I saw Wally. He was looking better than he had when I left yesterday, and he also looked as if he were about to launch into a tirade, or (worse for both of us) unleashing another poltergeist-like attack on some nearby objects. I needed him to be in as good a shape as possible. I took the chance and cleared my throat.

"She doesn't think I need any help, sweetheart that she is," Lillian cooed softly. "I thought her necklace looked so good, perhaps I might find something for myself, with stones that are good for... well, finding that perfect match."

"Let's see what we can find for you," Jimmy offered, again fetching a nervous look toward me before steering my friend off to one side.

The attention-getting worked: Wally was next to me, looking as solid as a spirit can be said to appear. I turned my tail to the humans in the shop and spoke softly. "I told you I'd be back."

"Thank you. Your friend's gonna get swindled."

"She agreed to run interference so that you can talk to me. By the way, Jack Waterston sends his warmest regards."

He nodded gently, smiled. "He's a good man. I'm impressed that you tracked me down with so little information. Also sorry to have left you behind."

"You helped me get rid of Lies Through His Teeth back there. Now, quickly... how do we get you out of here? What holds you?"

"Obligation."

"You'd said that. I thought perhaps some personal object got put into the things that got sold from the store. Jack said that the entire lot was purchased, and not for much."

The coyote made a dismissing gesture. "That's just what helped get me here. I lived for that store; felt bad about leaving it too soon." He looked at me, a great sadness in his eyes. "Accidents happen. Thought it was some cruelty of the Spirits, but that's not how they work. Like it or not, it was my time after all."

I thought of the many spirits I'd spoken with, helped to finish their transition, and so few were as calm and thoughtful as Wally was. "What holds you here?"

He looked at me patiently. "Not an item. Obligation."

"Can you explain that?"

"Don't need to. I can take care of it, Charonite. Been practicing for many months now. Getting stronger."

"You're going to fulfill your obligation by telekinesis?"

"Sort of."

Keeping my tail still, I turned my frustration into a wry smile. "You're not one to ask for help, I take it?"

"Don't want you involved. Might be dangerous."

"Maybe I like dangerous."

"My kinda female." He smiled back at me. "Would you trust me?"

"Only if you'd trust me."

He nodded. "Fair. Tough, but fair."

"So tell me what--"

"Oh, there you are!"

I turned to the new voice, surprised to see Anderson Pelletier enter the shop. He had dressed casually, not in his usual "detective suit," and he moved toward me with an expansive gesture. Before I knew what had happened, he had embraced me and kissed me firmly on the lips. I was about to voice my mild shock when I heard him whisper, "Go with it."

My instincts overrode my confusion. Quickly returning his hug, I said, "You'd think I'd been gone for ages."

"Not at all," the genteel raccoon demurred. "I just didn't know what store you'd popped into."

"My fault," Lillian called as she walked toward us. "I simply had to see the store where she'd purchased that _wonderful_necklace. And look what Mr. Spotted Pony found for me!"

"Call me Jimmy," he said with one of his only slightly smarmy grins. He held up a necklace of cheap stainless steel links from which depended a single hex-cut stone that couldn't have been more than 6cm in length. I made a quick calculation of what it might actually be worth.

"How much did you say it was, erm, Jimmy?" Lillian stammered over his name perfectly.

"Twenty-five."

I kept my face in a set smile, despite being the only one in the shop who heard what Wally had to say about that price. He appeared at Spotted Pony's side, his face screwed up in fury. I saw him grab at the necklace; what the others in the shop saw was the necklace forcibly removed from the human male's hand and floated gently over to Lillian's hand. I also saw Wally appear quite exhausted by the effort, but he didn't fade away as he had yesterday. Either he had been more active, yesterday, than I was aware of, or he was definitely getting stronger.

Anderson hadn't been privy to any of the story thus far, and his tail was about to go full bottle-brush. I quickly grabbed his forepaw and squeezed. "Looks to me like that necklace wants to go with you," I said to Lillian.

My friend was nothing if not a trooper. "It's lovely. I'll cherish it. How much again, Jimmy?"

"It's yours," Spotted Pony managed, backing toward his office at the rear of the store. "I mean, it... wants to go with you. Must be yours. Pardon me, I've gotta get ready to take a delivery..."

The three of us left in the store called out our thank-you's to the proprietor and managed to get out the door and to the parking lot further down the block before we all took deep breaths. Lillian still held the necklace in her hand, although she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to. Anderson's tail was starting to recover, although the 'coon himself continued to look confused and shaky. I was just glad to get out of there with my own tail still attached and in one piece. I was also feeling a little hysterical. So when I blurted out, "That was an uplifting experience," it was no surprise that the three of us quickly became oxygen-deprived from laughing so hard.

* * * * * * * * * *

The lovely autumn weather was holding, so we piled into Andy's SUV and left the windows open just a bit -- the compromise point between letting the cool air in and keeping our conversation from getting out.

"Glad I found you two," the raccoon smiled at us. "And by the way, when next you see Philip, apologize to him for my presumption."

I chuckled softly. "It was clearly in the line of duty, so I don't think he'll mind too much. However, it's that duty that we need to talk about. Andy, what is going on?"

"And don't leave anything out," Lillian seconded.

Heaving a deep sigh, my husband's once-ago partner nodded and dove in. "We had a flag on a certain name, and Ren pinged it last night. She's not in trouble for it; she explained that you had asked for information based upon an interview with a spirit. It's not an official case for you, but it's in the realm of your duties. I convinced Baldwin to let me talk to you first."

"Spencer Baldwin?" I asked. "Narcotics?"

"The very same. As you know, he's very protective of his territory, especially when it looks like he's about to wind up a case. He's been after James Porter for several months."

"Snap," I said softly. Turning to Lillian, sitting in the back seat, I said, "That's what I was telling you at the coffee shop. I was waiting for Ren to give me further details, to confirm my suspicions."

"Your nose never lets you down, kitling." She smiled at me. "We just didn't know how all this fit together."

"It explains why Wally is there, too. He kept saying 'obligation' holds him here. He's been trying to find a way to stop Porter from peddling his drugs. We may not be on the rez here, but Wally's mission was his life."

"And his death?" Andy wondered.

"Not the cause of his death, but his spirit is still fighting the fight."

"What's his plan, or did you find out?"

"I honestly don't know." It was my turn to sigh, shaking my head. "I can't go back in there. None of us can, I would imagine."

"Apart from Porter getting freaked out by the hoodoo we just caused?" Andy laughed, his black eyes sparkling. "By the way, did you make that happen?"

"Not in my bag of tricks. That was the spirit of Wally Mesa Dog, the coyote who owned most of the inventory that's in that shop. In a way, he followed the goods here."

"Wait a minute," Lillian interjected. "Are you telling me that a spirit just gave me a necklace that I'm not at all sure I wanted in the first place?"

I explained to them about the "poltergeist activity" in the shop, and how Wally had been managing it. "All he said to me is that he had been practicing for a long time. He's certainly developed power over time. It cost a lot of his energy to pass that necklace over to you, but he didn't start fading out, the way he did yesterday. I could still sense him; a weakened presence, yes, but still there."

Andy exhaled forcefully, his ears twitching a little. "My main purpose in getting you two out of there was to ensure that Porter doesn't twig to any form of police presence. He clearly doesn't know what you do, Naomi, and neither of you said anything about professions today, so he should still be ignorant."

"Goes without saying," I allowed, and Andy chuckled softly.

"He's in a bad business," Lillian observed, "so he's probably always a little paranoid."

"Good point." The 'coon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment. "Baldwin is a good cop, and he's not going to get freaked out over your accidental intrusion into his stomping grounds. The downside is, if your spirit really is up to something, and if he can actually pull it off, how will that affect Baldwin's operation?"

I thought about it for a moment, then asked, "Do you know any details about the bust?"

Andy did his best not to smirk at my use of the no-doubt "old school" term. "Nothing specific. Baldwin plays close to the vest, and his bosses let him, because he gets results. My gut tells me that it will happen within a week, maybe closer to a few days."

Before I could say anything further, the raccoon suddenly turned his muzzle toward the slightly open window at his side. After a moment, he smiled.

"Unless someone just walked by chewing Teaberry gum, I think we're on the right track."

"Good to have someone on the inside," Lillian joked. "The question now is, just how do we alert Wally?"

We were all quiet for a bit, each with private thoughts and machinations of one kind or another. For my part, all I could think of was something on the lines of Where's another Charonite when you need one? I knew of several within several hundred kilometers, but I wasn't ready to reach out blindly, especially since I had no idea of our timetable; it wasn't necessarily an emergency, but our window of opportunity wasn't large. If Wally weren't so attached to the building, I might be able to meet with him outside, away from the large glass panels lining the front of the store. Perhaps someone could go in and just talk to the air... no, that was foolish...

"Any bright ideas, anyone?" Lillian asked from behind me.

I was about to express myself in the negative when something caught my eye in the rearview mirror. There's no way to say that the idea was "bright," but the object twirling from Lillian's hand certainly was.

"Who wants her fortune told?"

* * * * * * * * * *

I asked Anderson to drive us to the parking lot a block and a half down Mariposa, just to avoid the chance of Porter spotting us walking down the street. Andy didn't know where we were going, but as I moved toward Timothy Street, Lillian caught at least part of my brainwave. Madame Roma was not out on the street this time, but when we entered the shop, she came in from behind the beaded curtain, and clapped her hands together joyfully when she saw us.

"You keep bringing me so many new people!" she exclaimed with a grin.

I introduced Anderson to her, and she was charmed when he bowed and whispered a gallant kiss over her hand. The raccoon seemed no less charmed, to judge by the soft movement of his tail. A fine judge of character, he very likely took to her for the same reasons that Lillian and I had done. After a moment of greeting and happy meeting, I risked lowering the mood just a bit.

"Madame Roma, I have something to ask of you, if you are able to do it. It requires us taking you into our confidence."

Her head bobbed once. "Let me take care of something." Moving to the front door, she closed and locked it. Reaching to the side, she took a carefully lettered sign (GIVING A READING, BACK SOON) and placed it in the window of the door. She turned back to us, smiled, and waved us toward the back room. I found myself in the lead and therefore the first to pierce the veil of the beaded curtain.

The reading room was bigger than I expected, with a large round wooden table and four sturdy wooden chairs set about it to the right of the door, with a few more chairs against the other wall to the left. Another door stood closed beyond the beaded curtain, and it occurred to me that even those with second sight had to keep one eye on the accounts. Madame Roma made her way to the chair that was unquestionably hers, and the three of us took seats around the table, with Lillian opposite the teller of fortunes.

"We may talk freely here, my friends," she said softly. "I don't believe that I have any spirits here who would overhear us." She looked at me with a gentle smile, which I returned equally.

She already knew that I was a Charonite; I explained Lillian's and Anderson's roles, and then told her of the investigations into James Porter's ability to afford his rents. She nodded slowly and looked to each of us in turn.

"You have risked much, telling me this. I will honor your trust, and I thank you. I cannot say that I knew that this might be happening. I only knew that -- as I told you yesterday, Naomi -- that man could not possibly support his payments on the property with the... the..." She waved her hand in a gesture of disgust that said volumes about her opinion of the store and its owner.

"My fiancé described it as 'a heap big buncha cattle poo-poo'."

No one at the table had heard that description before, so the timing was perfect. Andy had known Philip well, and it was clear he appreciated that it was my former fiancé's joke. What impressed me, however, was that Madame Roma matched Lillian's enthusiasm for a good belly laugh. My estimation of her grew more favorable still.

When the laughter subsided, the fortune-teller glanced across to me, her smile lingering on her face. "You seek my help, Naomi?"

"If you can help us, yes, please." I took the necklace from around my neck (which gave me and everyone at the table a sense of relief, I suspect) and placed it on the table before her. "In so much as a spirit can touch anything, Wally touched this."

"And this," Lillian added, producing the rose quartz necklace. "He practically ripped it from Porter's hand and gave it to me."

Madame Roma's eyebrows went up almost into her hairline. "He is powerful, this one!" She took the gemstone into her hand, considering it. "Do you wish impressions of him from this?"

"Something more, if you think it possible. None of us can go into that store anymore, without tipping off our suspect. Wally said that he would 'take care of' the situation. He can't be hurt by anything that might happen during a police action, but I'm concerned that he might interfere in such a way that the living people involved could get hurt." I paused, gathering breath. "My hope is that you can reach Wally, convey some message to him. Is that possible?"

"Anything is possible," she smiled. "I cannot say how likely. What sort of message? Simpler is better, I would think."

"I wish we had a day and time," Andy said softly. "That would be good for all of us."

"Can we come up with something short and explicit?" Lillian wondered.

"I would believe," the seer said, her smile becoming a grin, "that the spirit has probably already said such things of the owner!"

Lillian hooted again, telling her, "You're the kind of person I really enjoy hanging out with."

"I vote that we have a lovely dinner somewhere, after this sting is all done," Andy smiled. "Meanwhile, however, we still need to have something to tell this spirit of yours."

"Madame Roma," I asked softly, "what do you find is easiest for you to divine from or to communicate to another? Emotions, words, ideas...?"

She nodded gently, her eyes soft. "When someone is with me, here, receptive, open... that is easiest. With this, however... Do you know the term 'psychometry'?"

I nodded. "To receive impressions from objects."

"It is best with something touched often or worn by someone for a long time. Perhaps so strong a spirit does not need as much time." Her hands caressed the gemstone gently, and the rest of us all but held our breaths. The black brows came together, confusion. "Faint, yet... He is therian... two species? I feel something dog-like, not domestic, but also... rodent?"

"He is First Peoples, a coyote from the desert lands; he has the name of Jumping Mouse, from an old legend."

"Do you know of this legend?"

"Only the barest idea of it. I'm told it's a story about trusting the heart and giving selflessly. It describes a lot about his life."

"Madame Roma," Andy rose silently, "perhaps I'm being superstitious; I just feel that this room doesn't need technology in it. I'm going to move toward the front door and look up the legend online."

She smiled up at him. "Not superstition; intuition. Thank you."

While Andy researched and read in the front of the store, we three females engaged in conversation quieter than we might have in another arena. Andy was right: The room didn't mind positive emotions, but radio waves (or whatever they were) might have a disruptive effect. I felt more calm there than I had in many more posh, "comfortable" rooms. Whether or not she was true Romany, Madame Roma had the passion that marked those with powerful empathy.

I knew Andy had the answer as soon as he entered the room. Raccoons are often quite expressive with their tails; for those who knew how to read such signals, Andy's spoke volumes, which was the second reason he never played poker. (The first was that he didn't like losing money.)

"Do you want the story or just the message?"

"The message first," Madame Roma requested. "We can't yet know if this will work."

The 'coon's smile was just shy of enigmatic. "Wait, Eagle. Wait and watch."

...to be continued