Agnes shook her head and held the folded newspaper in the air over her shoulder.
"Gillian!" she bellowed. "Come have a look at this!"
Gillian sighed, turned off the water at the kitchen sink, and wiped her hands on her skirt. "What?" she asked, taking the paper from Agnes.
"Look at it."
The Times was folded open to a story about a young woman found dead in her apartment. Twenty-three years old and no explanations. Her landlord found her in her bathtub, with the showerhead still running.
"That's terrible," said Gillian. "Do you know this girl?"
"No. Look at the photo."
The photo showed Kaycee Hargrave - the friendly face of the local police - and the building's owner standing in the bathroom, pristine tiles and sunny window in the background. At least they'd been tasteful enough to remove the body.
"I'm not sure what you're wanting me to see here."
Exasperated, Agnes huffed and pried her massive frame from her chair. She grabbed the paper from Gillian and pointed at the shampoo bottles barely visible in the grainy photo.
"Shampoo. So what?"
"Suave fresh scent shampoo. John Frieda Stay Red. Do you realize all the herbs and extracts they've got in shampoos nowadays? I can't even get bloodroot in Mexico anymore. But Suave? Oh, they've got it, no problem. These seculars have no idea the fire they're playing with. In this girl's shower alone, you'll have bloodroot, watermint, ginger, even tobacco. She cast a death spell on herself while washing her hair!"
They were both uncharacteristically quiet for a moment.
"Shampoo..." Gillian said thoughtfully.
Agnes cackled and wedged herself back into her chair.
"My girl, we are back in business!"