They stopped at the Salem Witch Museum first. Brad nearly broke down as he told Jeremy that it had been Mary’s favorite museum, in large part because she’d thought they’d done an excellent job accurately recreating history with few theatrics. They stayed for the twenty-minute presentation, and Jeremy decided that he agreed with Mary. Since none of the people working in the shop or welcoming visitors had been there the day Mary went missing, they left as soon as the presentation ended.
Brad explained that they had skipped the Peabody Essex Museum, planning to spend the next day there, and had instead gone on to visit a number of the mall’s haunted houses, which were gone now, having been set up specifically for Halloween. Jeremy and Brad boarded the tram and went to the pirate museum, a wax museum and a monster museum. Then they went to one that advertised History! Just History, and Nothing More!
No sooner had they entered than a man came over to greet them. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He had brown hair, brown eyes, glasses, and was tall and slim. He walked right up to Brad, who clearly recognized him. From the conversation, Jeremy realized the man, a museum employee who introduced himself as Daniel Mie, had struck up a conversation with Brad and Mary that day, and that he’d been hoping to get a chance to tell Brad how sorry he felt about what had happened.
“Jeremy and I used to be partners,” Brad explained, after Jeremy introduced himself. “He’s a private investigator now, and he’s here to see what he can find out.”
Daniel smiled at Jeremy. “Glad to hear it.”
“So what about you?” Jeremy asked. “Did you notice anyone suspicious, maybe someone paying more attention to Mary than he should have been?”
The man looked thoughtful for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “I wish I could. Thing is, you can’t imagine how crazy this town gets for Halloween. The crowds are huge. I only remember Brad and…and Mary because we got talking.”
“Well, thanks,” Jeremy told him. “If you happen to remember anything, though…” He handed Daniel his card. “Just give me a call on my cell.”
“Will do. And if you have time, come back and take a real look at the museum. We’ve got a section on the pagan practices that are the basis for today’s wiccans’ practice and another exhibit on what the Puritans thought witches were back then….”
“Thanks,” Jeremy told him, and turned to leave.
But Brad stayed put and said to Daniel, “It was that fortune-teller, the one you sent us to.”
Daniel looked confused. “What was? What are you—”
“You recommended that guy?” Jeremy interrupted, wondering why Brad hadn’t thought to mention that earlier. “How well do you know him? Is he a friend of yours? Do you know where we could find him?”
“No, sorry. I just went to him for a reading and was impressed, so I recommended him. I wish I could help you, but…”
When they left, Brad actually seemed determined, rather than disheartened. “That guy is out there somewhere. And when we find him, we’ll find Mary. I know it.”
Jeremy was silent.
“We’ll find her alive. I know I must sound crazy, but I know she’s alive.”
“We’re working from that belief, Brad,” Jeremy assured him. “Where to next?”
“That shop right there,” he said, pointing. “The owners are named Adam and Eve Llewellyn, if you can believe it. Mary liked them a lot. I even liked them, even though I thought they’d be pretty loopy. They’re witches,” he said with a dry laugh.
“I met them last night,” Jeremy said. “But I’d like to see their place, and I wouldn’t mind talking to them again, either.”
Ginny opened the door at the MacElroy house, let out a little cry of joy when she saw Rowenna and gave her a big hug.
Ginny was the perfect great-aunt. Sixty-year-old widower Dr. Nick MacElroy was a pediatrician. His kids were grown, but Ginny remained with him, looking after the grandchildren when they came. Rowenna had gone to school with his two sons, who had also gone into medicine but practiced in Boston. They came out often enough with their wives and kids, and Ginny was always thrilled to see them.
Rowenna had loved Ginny when she’d been growing up. Ginny always had hot cocoa and oatmeal cookies for whoever stopped in. She had the look of Mrs. Claus, with a bun of snow-white hair, spectacles that slipped down her nose all the time, cheery, bright blue eyes, and she barely stood five feet.
“Thanks so much for looking after the place.”
“It’s my pleasure, dear,” Ginny said. “Now, what will you have? Coffee, tea or cocoa? And I have blueberry scones, pumpkin muffins or—if you’re ready for lunch—acorn squash and sliced turkey breast.”
Rowenna laughed. “It isn’t Thanksgiving yet, Ginny.”
“I have ham, too, if you’d prefer.”
“Oh, Ginny, thank you so much. But I have to go into town to meet a friend for lunch.”
“A friend?” Ginny’s eyes brightened. “Would that be a male friend?”
“Yes, Ginny, that would be a male friend. His name is Jeremy Flynn. He’s renting a place in town, but I wanted to let you know about him so you won’t worry if you see a strange man around my place….”
“Is he cute?”