Megan—the beautiful, smiling Megan—appeared on the screen almost instantly. I smiled back at her, knowing, hoping, believing she would answer the question. Of all of the images this strange ability of mine had produced, hers was the most welcome. “Can you show me how, Megan? Please show me how.” Even as I spoke, I had faith that she would. I was pleased too that she wore blue. Not black.
The screen assumed a smoky, misty look. It was like the crystal ball in my dream. When the haze cleared I saw a beach. It was nighttime with no moon at all, but a glow of firelight illuminated the scene. As I watched, a procession of black-robed men and women, one by one, approached a blazing fire. More black! I frowned but leaned forward, trying to memorize every detail. A woman at the head of the line held something with both hands. A few of the people following her were veiled or masked. I knew that those were witches who kept their involvement in witchcraft secret. There were thirteen of them altogether, and as they formed a loose circle around the fire, I seemed to move closer. I recognized the leader as River, and the item in her hands was an urn, something like the one I’d seen on Claudine Bagenstose’s mantel. Megan’s ashes? Of course. But how was Bridget Bishop involved?
The focus changed again. As the fire and the witches receded into the distance, a starkly white shape stood out against the nighttime beach. I recognized the gazebo right away. It was the same graceful structure where I’d seen Christopher Rich, dressed in black and clearly dead.
What is it doing in this vision, which I’m sure represents the return of Megan’s body to the earth?
“What does it mean?” I asked aloud. “And where is the spell book in all this?”
I received an answer to my question. The parade of witches on the firelit nighttime beach vanished. In its place was a sunlit place where waves lapped on a tranquil beach. The same gazebo was there too, with dozens of black and white balloons fluttering from the gingerbread trim. The balloons were all in fanciful shapes, like whales and starfish and even an octopus. A white-spotted pied crow flew into the picture, trailing a blue leash. I recognized the ancient paper-covered book clutched in Poe’s talons.
I understood. The scene of Shannon and Dakota’s wedding and the location of Megan’s funeral were one and the same. It was also the place where River needed to return Bridget Bishop’s long-lost spell book.
What about Christopher Rich? Does he have to die there?
More questions formed in my mind but it was too late. The beach blinked away and I was once again alone in my kitchen, staring at a blank screen. O’Ryan chose that moment to stroll into the room via the cat door. I was glad to see him. He was glad to see his red bowl and ignored me in favor of kibble.
“O’Ryan,” I said, “is that black cat a witch in disguise? You can tell me.”
He favored me with his blankest of blank innocent cat looks and went straight back to eating. Didn’t matter. I knew the answer anyway.
I pulled up my topic list. Methods of dispersing crows was number one. I was pretty sure I had the answer to that one. Give the spell book back to Bridget Bishop and they’ll leave. On to number two. Wedding planning. That one gave me an opportunity to call Shannon and get an answer to the gazebo question. Is the one on the Dumases’ beach the one in my vision? It must be. I scrolled my directory and tapped her name. “Hi, Shannon. Got a minute?”
“Oh, hi, Lee. I was just about to call you. Good news from Blushing Bride!”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Our dresses are ready early. We can pick them up Monday. Isn’t that great?” Her voice fairly rang with happiness. “Can you make it? We can meet at Dunks, same as last time. Nine o’clock?”
“I’ll be there,” I said. “By the way, I met the best man, Sean Madigan. We had breakfast together yesterday.”
“No kidding. I’m glad you got a chance to meet him. He seems nice, doesn’t he? Did I tell you he’s not staying here at my dad’s place after all?”
“No. Why? What happened?”
“Poor guy wasn’t getting any sleep. The guest room is right next to the aviary, you know, and I guess Poe talked all night.” She gave a little giggle. “Anyway, Sean has a lady friend who has a spare room, so he’s staying with her. Worked out for the best. My dad was a little nervous about having him here. We have some nice paintings and stuff and Sean . . . well, you know.”
“I understand,” I assured her. “Glad it worked out for everyone. Would you do me a favor, Shannon? Could you e-mail me a picture of the gazebo, um—your pergola? I’m working on an idea for a segment about wedding planning and Mr. Doan likes a presentation with photos.”
“Glad to. I’ll run outside and snap one and send it right away. I’ll bet Mr. Doan was thrilled about your show so far. That part about the crows stripping the tree was so creepy and you looked gorgeous.”
“Thanks. Having a professional make-up guy makes a big difference.”
“Nope. It’s not about the make-up. You’re a good reporter. I hope I can do that someday too.” She gave a happy little sigh. “I’m so glad I took your class. Anyway, I’ll see you Monday morning.”
“I’ll be there. Don’t forget to take that picture for me.”
“Right away,” she promised. “Bye.”
“So,” I said to O’Ryan, “Sean has a lady friend with a spare room, huh? What do you think of that?” He pretended he wasn’t listening, but the forward-pointing ears gave him away so I kept talking. “I wonder if Pete knows about it. I’ll bet he does. There’s a lot about this case he’s not telling me.”
O’Ryan stopped eating and turned to face me. “Meh,” he said, and shook his head.
“I know. I said ‘case,’ didn’t I? Pete would laugh and call me Nancy Drew. Are you laughing at me too?”
I’m sure he was even though I’ve never heard him laugh out loud. I stopped talking to the cat when Shannon’s picture of the gazebo came through. Several pictures. She’d shot it from every side. The one showing the beach in the background looked exactly as it had in my visions except, thankfully, there was no dead man in it.
CHAPTER 35
I chose the shot of the gazebo with the beach and the ocean in the background, and made two full-page prints on photo paper. I put one aside to use for the suggested venues part of my proposed report on wedding planning because I’d told Shannon I would. (A promise made is a debt unpaid.) The other was for me. I studied it with a magnifying glass from every angle. I hadn’t realized until I’d examined the enlargement that there was a bird perched on one of the inside seats. Too dark to be a seabird, it was probably a crow. Why wouldn’t it be?
I wanted to share the picture with the few people I’d told about the visions. Maybe it would look familiar to one of them and help to connect the dots for me. I didn’t expect to see Pete until late evening and River would still be asleep. I was sure my ever-curious Aunt Ibby would be interested. “Come on downstairs with me, cat,” I said. “Let’s go visit our aunt. You can tell her all about your garden adventure with the witch-cat and I’ll show her the picture.” Down the two flights we went again. I’m sure most of the miles on my Fitbit come from stair climbing. I took my usual seat at the kitchen counter and O’Ryan curled up in one of the captain’s chairs.
“It’s awfully pretty,” she said when I showed her Shannon’s picture. “I don’t recognize it at all. Sorry. Is that a crow inside there?”
“Afraid so. I can’t seem to get away from them. I had Shannon send this over because I wanted to be sure whether or not the gazebo behind her house is the one in my visions.”
“And is it?”
“Yes. No doubt.”
“The visions are tied up with Shannon and Dakota’s wedding then,” she said.
“Yes.”
She folded her arms and did that wise old owl thing again. “And you still believe Bridget Bishop is connected to our little black cat friend as well as to the murder of crows.”
“Yes,” I repeated. “I gave the collar back to the black cat
and I swear I could hear her talking to me. I think O’Ryan knows she’s Bridget too.” I paused, carefully phrasing my next observation. “I also believe that there’s a major relationship between Claudine Bagenstose and Sean Madigan.”
Her arms unfolded quickly and one eyebrow shot up. “Relationship? As in man-woman relationship? I can’t believe that. Not Claudine.”
“I don’t know what kind of connection there is, but I learned today why his car is in her garage. He’s living there.”
She brought both hands up to her mouth and her eyes widened. “Good heavens! Not Claudine! What will people think? Oh dear, I know what they’ll think. They’ll think she’s just like Gloria Tasker, for goodness’ sake.” Big sigh. “Is there no propriety in Salem at all anymore?”
“Shannon says Sean moved out of their house in Marblehead because Poe kept him awake all night with his talking,” I said. “The guest room is right next to the aviary. It could be true, but how did he know Claudine Bagenstose in the first place? Any ideas about that?”
“Both Claudine and Elliot were great collectors. I told you about it. Do you think it’s possible that they were customers of Mr. Madigan?”
“Collectors of stolen art?” I said. “I’m afraid it’s a possibility. If they bought a painting from him they believed it was stolen even if it was a fake.”
She nodded. “Well at least that would mean Claudine’s not a you-know-what. Like Gloria.”
My aunt’s priorities are sometimes peculiar. “It might mean she’s an accessory to art theft,” I reminded her. “That could be worse than being a you-know-what.”
She reluctantly agreed. “Have you talked to Pete about all this?”
“I’ll talk to him tonight and show him the picture of the gazebo.” I still hadn’t told my aunt about the spell book and I wasn’t sure I’d ever tell her or anybody. I didn’t want to cause a long-dead hanged Salem witch any more annoyance than I already had. I just wanted Bridget to get her book and take it with her to wherever she was spending eternity. It was a good time to change the subject. “Shannon says that we can pick up our dresses for the wedding on Monday.”
“That was fast. I can hardly wait to see what you’ve picked out.”
“Black isn’t my favorite color, as you know,” I said, “but I do like my dress, even though I probably won’t ever wear it again. I can’t imagine being like that ancestor of Claudine’s who wore black for the rest of her life after her husband died. Not me!”
“I’ve seen some of the great grandmother’s wardrobe. Claudine did a vintage fashion show for the Friends of the Library years ago. All black. Even her corsets and chemises and fabulous hats were black, and all of it was obviously expensive. Lots of Paris labels. She has the woman’s rings, earrings, bracelets, hat pins, and necklaces too—all with real jewels!”
“By the looks of the Bagenstose place, there’s still plenty of money in the family.” I thought about the mansion. “Plenty of spare rooms too, in case a friend needed a place to stay. Even room in the garage for an extra car.”
“Seems like you’ve got a lot to think about,” Aunt Ibby said. “Is there anything I can help with, research-wise? I’ll be at the library most of the day. Just call me if you think of something I can look up.”
“I will, and thanks for listening to me and not thinking I’m crazy.”
“You are not crazy. You are very special and you can talk to me about anything.”
“Pete says that too. I’m blessed to have both of you in my life. Come on, big cat. Let’s go home.” O’Ryan dutifully followed and together we climbed those stairs again.
Back in my own kitchen, I tried to focus on things practical. I marked “9 A.M. Dunkin’ Donuts” on my calendar for Monday and began a shopping list for the weekend. So far all we’d planned was a trip to Fenway on Saturday for the Sox game. I’d need to plan a few meals for Saturday and Sunday. I wondered if Shannon had called Therese about taking pictures of our final fitting. I put aside the shopping list and hit Therese’s number.
“Hi, Lee. Your show was awesome. Congratulations,” was her greeting. I had to laugh.
“It’s not my show by any means,” I said. “But thank you.”
“You’ll have your own news show someday. I’m sure of it.” Since Therese is a novice witch, and had been personally trained by Megan, her prophetic words carried some weight. I thanked her again and asked if she knew about the Monday morning fitting plans. “I’ll be there,” she promised. “It’s going to be a busy week. We have some coven things happening. Plans for Megan’s funeral, you know. We have to figure out which covens will be involved in the gathering. Everyone wants to be represented. We all loved her.” There was a little catch in Therese’s voice. “I talked to Pete about that phone call, you know. He told me not to worry about it, that the police will take care of it. So I told River it was nothing to be concerned about. She seemed relieved.”
“He’s probably right,” I said. “He almost always is. Will the funeral be soon?”
“The night of the summer solstice,” she said. “Midsummer midnight. A perfect time for her to move on to the Summerland.”
I remembered what Dakota had said about getting married on the longest day of the year. “That’s the twenty-first,” I said. “The same day as the wedding.”
“I know,” she said. “Same place too. We try to choose a garden or a seaside for a peaceful transition, and Mr. Dumas said we could hold it on his private beach. It’ll be beautiful.”
So my vision had been correct. The black-robed witches forming a circle on the beach suddenly made perfect sense. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about Wiccan funerals,” I said, “but I loved Megan too. Can I help in any way?”
“You can send white flowers if you like, but only family and Wiccan friends and fellow coven members take part in the ceremony.”
“I understand,” I said, and I did—but I still felt oddly left out. After all, Megan was communicating regularly with me, not Therese. “I’ll see you Monday morning then,” I said and we wished one another a good day.
The visions had shown me the funeral and the wedding taking place on the same beach. It hadn’t occurred to me that they were both on the same date. Midsummer. The summer solstice. Why not? A perfect time for weddings and funerals—beginnings and endings.
I still wanted to talk to River. I had so much to tell her and to ask her. I decided to risk waking her and called even though it was just a few minutes before noon. I was surprised when my friend answered on the first ring sounding bright and alert at this early—for her—hour.
“Hi, Lee,” she said. “I watched your show through the window last night. Did you see me and Rhonda waving at you like a couple of goofs?”
I laughed. “Couldn’t see because of the lights. If I had I probably would have laughed out loud in the wrong place. Got a minute to talk? I have some news for you.”
“I have something to tell you too,” she said. “I’m wide awake and starving. Want to go someplace for lunch?”
“We could grab a sandwich at the Hawthorne Tavern on the Green,” I suggested. “It’s a short walk for both of us.”
“I’ll be there. Fifteen minutes?”
“That soon? You really are hungry!” I checked the clock. “Sure. I’ll see you there.
“I can hardly wait to see you.” Her voice actually sparkled.
CHAPTER 36
The Tavern on the Green is a cozy little pub in the historic hotel. I was first to arrive and watched River as she practically bounced through the door. My friend looked far different than she had just a few days earlier when we’d driven to Gloucester to get away from the crows. Her long black hair was in a single braid, her pretty oval face free of make-up. With her pink mini dress and white sandals, she looked more like a high school kid on spring break than the glamourous star of a late-night TV show.
“Lee, I’m so glad you could meet me.” She joined me at a corner table. “Seems like we have lots to ta
lk about.”
“You go first,” I said. “You sounded so excited on the phone.”
“I did? Well, maybe I am. You’ll never guess who asked me out!”
I controlled a grin. Just about anybody who’d watched the interaction between River and Buck Covington on her show would know the answer to that. But I played along. “I give up. Who?”
“Buck Covington, that’s who! The handsome hunk who interviewed you about the crows. We’re going out to dinner tomorrow night. What do you think about that?”
“I think that’s great. If it makes you happy it makes me happy too.”
We ordered lunch—me a straight-up burger with Vermont cheddar, River a grilled portobello mushroom with Brie. “You said you had some news for me,” she said. “Good news, I hope.”
“I think it is,” I told her, lowering my voice. “If this gazing thing of mine is working right, I believe I contacted Megan. I asked her to show me how to return the book.”
She leaned forward, eyes locked on mine. “I knew she would help me. I just knew it. What do I have to do?”
I looked around the room. No one was in hearing distance but I whispered anyway. “Therese told me about Megan’s funeral at the Dumas place in Marblehead. It’s going to happen there. I saw it.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” she said. “I figured it would take a whole coven to do it anyway, and there’ll be even more than one coven at Megan’s return to the earth.”
“More than one? I saw only thirteen people in a circle.”
“That would be right. Your visions are getting more specific, aren’t they?” She whispered too. “This will be a gathering of witches from several covens but Megan’s own coven will distribute her ashes. Since Megan is gone, they picked me to balance the power as the thirteenth member.”
“That’s why I saw you carrying an urn,” I reasoned aloud. “I didn’t actually see Bridget Bishop there, but I saw a crow carrying the book.”
“She’ll be riding in an animal or a bird of some kind, I expect,” River said. “But wouldn’t it be cool if we actually saw her? In person? Wow!”
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