She didn’t get a chance to introduce Rocky, because Beth stepped in.
“Gayle Alden, this is Rocky Rockwell, a friend of Devin’s. Rocky, Gayle is one of the two best mediums in the city. The other, of course, is my other employee, Theo Hastings, but Theo is off today.”
“How do you do?” Gayle said politely, then turned to Beth with a twinkle in her eye. “I don’t suppose he’s here for a reading, is he?”
“Actually, I’m here about a piece of jewelry Devin bought from you,” Rocky said.
“The silver pentagram. Or pentacle—whatever you choose to call it,” Beth said. “Technically, it’s a pentagram when it’s just the symbol and a pentacle when the star has the circle around it, but people mostly just say pentagram these days.”
Rocky smiled. “Whatever you call it, it’s a beautiful piece.”
“I’m sold out for the moment. They go as quickly as Devin’s Auntie Pim books,” Beth said. “But they’re done by a local artist. Sheena Marston. I can order one for you. In fact, if I special order it, you can have input on the design, if you want. She only works with silver, but she can add enamel, and precious or semiprecious stones. I had one with black onyx that was spectacular.”
“Is it possible to meet with Ms. Marston?” he asked. “It would be easier for me to explain my ideas in person.”
There was a slight pause. Gayle and Beth exchanged a long look filled with something he couldn’t decipher.
“She doesn’t actually see people,” Beth said.
“She’s something of a hermit,” Gayle added.
Gayle Alden was Sheena Marston, Rocky thought.
“Are the pieces exclusive through you?” he asked Beth.
“They are now. In previous years, a number of shops carried her work, but I convinced her that being exclusive would be to her advantage,” Beth said.
“I’m sure Beth and the Haunted Dragon will have more soon,” Gayle said.
“Are you a Wiccan, Rocky?” Beth asked.
“No, but I think the pieces are beautiful,” he said.
“I’m so glad you like them,” Gayle said. “I’m guessing you’re thinking of getting one as a gift for someone. So many people think that only Wiccans should wear them. And a lot of others think they’re associated with devil worship, or that they’re just plain evil. In fact, there’s nothing evil about them.” She pointed to a pentagram-shaped paperweight on the counter. “From the top and moving clockwise, the points represent spirit, water, fire, earth and air.”
She met his eyes and continued. “There’s nothing evil about the pentagram or the modern practice of Wicca, which was established by a man named Gerald Gardner in 1954, with practices based on ancient pagan traditions. Laurie Cabot, arguably the most famous Wiccan high priestess, came to Salem in the 1970s and popularized Wicca here. And just as Christianity has many sects, so does Wicca. Some are traditional, others revere figures a lot like Christian saints. But none of them are evil.”
“Are you a Wiccan?” Rocky asked her.
She flushed. “No. Congregational church. But people here in Salem respect everyone’s beliefs. Or those of us you’d want to know do, anyway.”
He smiled. “Gotcha.”
The little bell rang as a group of tourists came into the shop. Gayle excused herself, and then Beth went to help a couple who were interested in the jewelry under the counter.
“Did that help you any?” Devin asked Rocky as they left.
He didn’t get a chance to answer her, because she’d been looking at him as she spoke, and now she plowed straight into another man.
“Devin! Hey, sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, backing away.
The man was almost Rocky’s height; he had slightly silvered hair, which somehow added to an impression of being debonair—or a lecher, one or the other.
“Completely my fault,” the man said. He looked at Rocky with raised brows.
Was that jealousy? Rocky wondered.
“Theo, meet Rocky Rockwell. Rocky, Theo Hastings. Theo works for Beth, too.”
They shook hands.
“Old friends?” Theo asked lightly.
“From Boston,” Rocky said, avoiding a direct answer.
“Oh, well, pleased to meet you,” Theo said. “Devin, always wonderful to see you.”
He smiled and moved on.
“Interesting character,” Rocky said.
“I think pretty much everything about him—including his claim to be Wiccan—might be an act,” Devin said. “His way of making it here. Anyway, I should get back.”
“Of course.”
“If you’re looking for a restaurant later, I can suggest a new one for you. It’s at the old jail. The place is apartments now, with the restaurant on the ground floor.”
“Thanks.”
They headed to the car, and he drove the short distance to her house. He got out and went around to open her door, but she’d already opened it by the time he got there.
“You’ve got my card, right?” he asked her.
“Yes, of course. And I’ll call you if I think of anything that might help,” she promised.