Morgan shifted restlessly in her chair. “Yes, of course we could be in danger. That’s nothing new, but I felt like we were followed and, in fact, that feeling, and one of being watched … it’s getting closer.”
“Meow!” Belladonna jerked her head up from the bowl and trotted over to the door. Four pairs of eyes followed her and watched as she sniffed the crack at the bottom of the door.
“Do you think someone could be out there?” Jolene whispered as she slowly got up and crept to the door.
“Maybe, but who?” Morgan whispered back as she, Fiona and Celeste readied themselves for a fight.
“Could be anyone. The cop. The person who killed Nancy. Opal Mines or whatever paranormal Dr. Bly has sent.” Jolene reached for the doorknob.
Belladonna’s meowing got louder.
Jolene whipped the door open.
Standing in hall, his fist raised to knock on their door was a handsome, dark-haired man with velvety brown eyes. Mateo.
Jolene’s heart melted at the sight of him. Then her eyes narrowed and her heart hardened when she remembered seeing him with the long-haired beauty. “What are you doing here?”
The smile that broke down her heart's defenses bloomed across his face. Used to break down her defenses, she reminded her heart. Jolene indicated for him to enter.
“I heard you guys were in town so I decided to come visit you.” Mateo took a seat on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He winked at Jolene, who crossed her arms and went to the opposite side of the room.
“What are you doing in town?” Fiona asked.
Mateo shrugged. “I spend a lot of time here. This is a great town. And, of course, I heard about the note you got from Dorian so I wanted to come by and see if I could help. Why don’t you bring me up to speed?”
Morgan, Fiona and Celeste took turns filling him in while Jolene who brooded silently on the other side of the room.
“Sounds like you need to find out more about this Sam guy.” Mateo turned to Jolene. “Were you able to dig anything up on the Internet?”
“No. I think any records of him are too old to have made their way online.”
Mateo nodded thoughtfully. “I might know of a place where you can find out more. If he was involved, even remotely, with the witch trials, they may have information about him at the Salem Ephemera Museum.”
“What is that?” Fiona asked.
“It’s a museum here in town. It’s actually just a few streets over from this hotel. Hardly anyone goes there because … well, it’s not exactly that exciting. There aren’t any wax figure displays or antiques. It’s all paper. All kinds of documents from the 1600s onward. Anything to do with the Salem witch trials is in there.”
“Sounds like it’s worth a shot.” Fiona looked at her sisters, all of whom nodded.
“How do you know so much about this area anyway?” Morgan asked.
Mateo smiled as he got up from the couch. “Let’s just say I have an ‘in’. Speaking of which, I know an awesome place to go for dinner. He turned to Jolene. “Would you join me?”
Panic welled up inside her. Jolene's eyes flicked from Morgan to Celeste to Fiona and back to Mateo. “We haven’t discussed our dinner plans.”
Mateo’s left brow rose and he looked at the other girls, who all had smirks on their faces.
“I’m skipping supper. I ate too much ice cream the other day and I need to cut back.” Fiona’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“I’m relaxing in the tub, gonna eat take-out and call Luke.” Morgan’s wore a smug smile that made Jolene want to punch her.
“I’m not eating either.” Celeste started toward her room. “I need to go for a jog.”
“Looks like you’re in need of some company for supper.” Mateo took Jolene’s hand and pulled her gently toward the door before she could protest. She left with Mateo, looking back just in time to see her sisters’ knowing smirks.
As Mateo led her down the hall, Jolene's heart couldn’t decide whether to sink in despair or rise in hope.
* * *
Mateo did, indeed, know a nice little restaurant. They sat outdoors because he knew Jolene loved dining outside. It was dusk, the low light casting pleasant shadows on the ground and accentuating the angular lines of Mateo’s handsome face. They ate companionably, sticking to hushed talk of paranormal skills and filling each other in on what had passed since they’d last seen each other.
Jolene fought off the feeling of closeness she usually felt when she was with him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to feel that way.
She noticed him studying her as if he sensed something was off. It made her nervous. Too nervous to enjoy her meal of baked haddock and mashed potatoes. She pushed the food from one side of her gold-rimmed china plate to the other, which was unusual. Usually, she ate like a horse.
Jolene realized she was being immature to feel so insecure and standoffish because of the other woman. Mateo had never made any promises to her. Heck, they weren’t even dating. But she still had no desire to share him with anyone. She was a one-man kind of gal.
When they finished eating, Mateo paid the bill and took hold of her hand. They walked slowly back to the hotel hand in hand. The night was warm, the air perfumed with honeysuckle. A slight breeze kicked up from the ocean four streets over and ruffled her hair. Mateo’s hand was comforting and Jolene's heart leapt when he interlaced his fingers with hers.
“I just want to make sure that you girls realize that whoever else is looking for this relic could be very powerful.” Mateo studied her with concerned eyes.
“I think we know what we’re doing by now,” she said.
“I know you do. But I might not always be there to protect you.”
Jolene snorted. “Why? Do you have someone else to protect now?” She hated the catty way that sounded but once it was out it was too late to take it back.
Mateo’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
Mateo stopped and turned to face her. “I have a lot of missions that I do for the paranormal society, but none is closer to my heart than protecting you and your sisters. Especially you. But you’ve proven that you can take care of yourselves, so now I have to go on other missions and can’t be around as much.”
“Right. Of course. I don’t expect you to be around all the time.” Her heart stuttered as his hands made their way from her shoulders down her arms. Was he getting closer? Her breath caught as his head dipped toward hers.
“Ahahaha!”
“Hiss.”
Jolene jerked her attention from Mateo’s lips to see what looked like the edge of a black cape and the tip of a broom disappearing around the corner. The fluffy black cat with the golden eyes sat in the street, hissing in the direction of the cape. “Did you see that?”
Mateo looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“I thought I saw a black dress or a cape and a …” Jolene realized how stupid it sounded but she said it anyway, “broomstick.”
“Someone sweeping?”
“Umm, not exactly.” The broomstick was flying.
The black cat came to them and rubbed up against Mateo’s leg. Mateo bent down and scratched the cat's ear then went to look down the alley. “Kitty, do you see someone over there?”
Jolene followed him, peering around the corner to see … nothing. “There’s no one. I must have imagined it.”
“No broomstick or black capes. I know this is Salem, but I don’t think there are any witches flying around on broomsticks tonight,” Mateo teased.
“Of course not.” Jolene shrugged. “I don’t believe in witches, anyway.”
Mateo turned serious. “Don't worry, you will.”
11
The next day, the sisters drove to the Salem Ephemera Museum, even though it was so close that they could have easily walked. They had high hopes they might get a hot lead and would need the SUV to check it out.
Jolene was unusually quiet
on the ride over. She was tired, having spent most of the night alternating between mooning over the interrupted kiss and chastising herself for wanting to be kissed in the first place.
In a way, she was glad the kiss had been interrupted. Even though she’d desperately wanted to kiss Mateo at the time, now, in the light of day, she realized she’d be better off if she didn’t get involved, despite the magnetic pull she felt whenever she was in his orbit.
Besides, she had an important job to do that would require all of her attention. She pushed the annoying thoughts of Mateo and his kiss out of her head as Morgan parked their SUV in front of the museum.
The building was a boxy rectangle of gray cement, nothing fancy or flashy. Located on a side street, it was not near any of the other tourist attractions. Its plain, small sign hung over the door.
Inside, Jolene smelled the musty aroma of centuries-old paper. Antique oak display cases ringed the perimeter of the small front room. Protected behind the beveled glass of the cases sat old crumbling diaries, yellowed newspapers with flaking edges and tattered letters, the ink barely visible.
The shuffle of footsteps sounded from the back and Jolene looked up to see an elderly man come around the corner, his eyes widening as he noticed them.
“Welcome! Welcome! I’m Henry Oaks, museum curator. I have to say, I don’t get many visitors. In fact, you’re lucky you caught me in. I just got back from my walk. Well, really it’s more of a shuffle. I like to do a few blocks twice a day. Try to keep myself fit.” He threw his bony shoulders back and rubbed his sunken chest as if to emphasize how fit he was. “It’s a pleasure to see someone enjoying the displays.”
“Thanks. We love learning about history.” Morgan pointed to one of the taller display cases that housed diaries propped up on stands, their fragile pages open to the middle. “We’re particularly interested in old diaries.”
“Oh, yes.” Henry waved his hand toward another case. We have plenty of those. And some in the back still to be catalogued. Though mostly the back is filled with old newspapers.”
Fiona glanced toward the doorway to the back. “Oh, there’s more?”
“Not for public display. There’s a lot of cataloging left to be done. People are always dropping off stuff they find in their attics and it’s up to me to make sure they get recorded properly.” Henry straightened, his chest puffing out proudly. “You know, we have the largest collection of Salem witch ephemera in the country.”
“We heard,” Celeste said. “That’s why we came.”
“Yes. We heard you were something of an expert who would be able to tell us all about the various people involved with the Salem witch trials.” Jolene knew her sisters were trying to act nonchalant, but sometimes she just wished they would cut to the chase.
He regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Well, I know more than most, I suppose. Who did you want to know about in particular?”
“Sam Gooding.”
Henry pursed his lips together and looked up at the ceiling. “Sam Gooding. Can’t say as I recall that name.” He shuffled over to a large mahogany desk where an ancient computer with a monitor as big as a Volkswagen Beetle sat. He tapped on the keys with thick fingers. “Let’s see if I’ve catalogued anything from this Gooding person.”
The sisters drifted over to stand behind him, Jolene looking over his shoulder, memorizing everything she saw on the screen. She had a photographic memory and you never knew when information might come in handy.
“Oh, yes.” He straightened with a crack of his spine. “There is something in back. It was catalogued last summer. I’ll be right back.”
Henry shuffled off and the sisters busied themselves by looking at the displays. Though most of the paper was yellowed and flaky, Jolene was amazed that any three hundred-year-old paper still existed.
She was busy reading a diary of one of the young girls who accused a witch of causing her seizures when Henry returned with an armful of rolled up papers, a long cylinder and a thick, three-ring binder.
He put the papers on top of the glass display case. “Why are you girls so interested in this person?”
“Term paper,” Jolene lied.
“Oh, you girls are students?” He eyed them suspiciously. Jolene was young enough to be a student, but Morgan and Fiona were past thirty. Henry must have realized they were a little too old. “College?”
“Just me.” Jolene waved at the others. “These are my sisters. They just came along for the ride.”
“Okay. Well, this here was brought in by someone who found it in an old trunk at an auction. These are photocopies, of course. It’s some clothing and a diary. In here,” he tapped the binder, “is the information on Sam that was dug up by the intern earlier this year. Turns out I didn’t log this in. I was on vacation. That’s why I didn’t remember him.”
Jolene bent over to study the documents. Pictures of a rotted vest, pants and shirt. There was also a picture of a leather book, presumably the diary. The binder contained information about the birth certificate, death certificate, and newspaper clippings.
“We were looking for some paintings or drawings that he did,” Jolene said.
Henry flipped through the binder. “I don’t see anything about that. Was he an artist?”
“We’re not sure. Are you sure there's nothing in there? Maybe in his diary?”
“These are photocopies of everything we got. Some of the diary pages are here.” Henry leafed to the back of the binder.
Jolene felt disappointed. Nothing stuck out from what she’d seen. Maybe more would be revealed upon further study. “Can I check this information out and take it home?”
Henry’s brow creased. “Check it out? No, we don’t allow that.”
“Can we make photocopies?” Morgan asked.
“Nope, sorry. Don’t allow that, either. Museum policy. If we let people do that, we’d have to buy a new machine every month. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here and read it all. You can take notes.”
Henry grabbed a feather duster and started running it over the display cases while the sisters huddled over the papers.
“I didn’t bring anything to take notes, but we can take pictures with our phones,” Celeste suggested.
“Yeah, but not all of it. Let’s pick out the important stuff,” Morgan said.
Jolene’s chest tightened in frustration. “I think this is a wild goose chase. Are you sure you got the right information?” she asked Celeste.
“Yes. Maybe it’s buried in here and we need to look through it more thoroughly.”
Jolene glanced over at Henry, who turned quickly back to his task. She lowered her voice. “If he wasn’t a known artist, then I think the diary is probably our best bet.” Jolene flipped through the photocopied pages. She didn’t need to take a picture. She knew from past experience she would remember exactly what was on each page.
Morgan got busy taking pictures of the newspaper articles. Fiona started on the pile of photocopies.
Jolene felt her energy spike as she flipped the pages. The diary copies had an energy stamp, dark energy, which was strange, because these were just photocopies. It must be pretty strong if it could imprint onto a copy of the original.
Sam must have been an incredibly powerful paranormal, which made sense because he was tasked with caring for the scrying ball … but why would his energy be dark? Maybe an imprint on a photocopy reversed the energy, kind of like how a negative of a picture was reversed.
Jolene was just about to mention this to her sisters when she turned the page to reveal a feathery sketch. It looked like a living room with a fireplace on one side and a wide stairway next to it. Sam’s house? And what better place to hide a crystal ball than in your own home.
“Look,” she whispered, pointing to the page.
“A sketch,” Celeste whispered. “Sarah said he would sketch out a clue.”
Morgan snapped a shot even though Jolene already had the sketch committed to memory. She glanced back to make sure He
nry was still busy dusting. He was clear on the other side of the room so she leaned forward and said in a low whisper, “This could be the very place where he hid the crystal ball.”
Morgan nodded, checking her phone to be sure she’d captured the image. “Now all we have to do is figure out exactly where this is.”
12
“Do you think Amity knew about the sketch?” Morgan held up her phone with the picture of the sketch to show her sisters. They were all seated in their parked SUV before the Museum.
“I don’t think so. At least not from the Ephemera Museum because Henry didn’t know about Sam. He’d never shown this to anyone,” Fiona said.
“He didn’t even know it had been logged in, though. Maybe whoever logged it in showed her,” Celeste suggested.
“Whether she knew about it or not doesn’t really help us.” Jolene turned to Celeste. “Are you sure Sarah Easty’s ghost didn't give you any idea of where Sam might have hidden it?”
“The ghost didn’t, but Opal said Amity kept talking about that Rebecca Nurse house. Maybe it’s in there?”
Jolene pressed her lips together. “We’ve already been there. That’s where we got the clue about Sam, from Sarah’s ghost. It doesn’t seem like there could be another clue there, does it?”
“Maybe not outside, but we haven’t been inside,” Morgan said. “We’ve got nothing to lose checking it out.”
“Good point.” Fiona reached into her pocket and pulled out the alexandrite gemstone. She held it flat in her palm as she waved her hand slowly in different directions. The stone just sat there glowing a dull green.
“Well that thing is no help,” Celeste said
“Maybe, I need to point it in the direction of the clue for it to take effect,” Fiona said. “Which direction is the Rebecca Nurse house?”
Jolene checked her navigational app then pointed behind them. “That way.”
Fiona moved her hand in that direction and the stone gave a little flash of yellow then back to dull green. “That wasn’t much of a sign, but I guess it won’t hurt to head back out there.”
Spell Found (Blackmoore Sisters Cozy Mysteries Book 7) Page 6
