“Right! Robert Daily and his wife, Gertrude—or Gertie, as they call her. They have owned it for about thirty years. They came up from Boston, too. But those two…well, they had a litter.”
“Charles, that’s not at all nice,” Emma chastised affectionately. “Six children. Two sons are in the military, and all three daughters moved back to Boston. They spend half their time there, and they’re lucky to be able to do so. They have one son, Calvin, that still lives in Salem. He has an apartment by the wharf, I believe. But when they’re gone, he comes home to take care of Woof-Woof.”
“The dog,” Charles explained as if the name weren’t self-explanatory.
“And that’s it on the block. We are lucky. Close to town, within walking distance. But these lots are large, and the three houses face each other. And please, believe me, these are the nicest neighbors anyone could want.”
“That is great to hear. And thank you so much,” Jon said.
“Are you talking to everyone on the block?” Emma asked.
“I hope to,” Jon said.
Emma shook her head sadly. “If anyone knows anything, they would have come forward. These are good people.”
“I’m sure. But, sometimes, we forget what we know. And when someone asks, things can come to mind. But I do thank you, so sincerely.” He stood, and the couple did the same.
“We’re here if you need us in any way for anything again,” Charles said. He patted his pocket. Jon had given him a card earlier, and the gesture indicated that he still had it on him. “I have your number here. If we think of anything, we’ll call.”
“Thank you.”
Charles looked toward the den. “That was where—?”
“Yes,” Jon said.
“Sad thing, sad thing.” Charles shook his head. “You know, we love Haunted Happenings, adore the music, the art, and the fun. It shouldn’t be marred like this.”
“No,” Jon agreed.
“Charles, quit looking. We’re not going in there,” Emma said. She took his hand and headed toward the door. “Good day, Mr. Dickson.”
“He’s Special Agent Dickson, Emma,” Charles corrected her.
“And you’re welcome to call me Jon,” Jon said, amused. But he was relieved when they walked out the door.
Next up was the young man watching Woof-Woof.
He arrived minus the pooch about three minutes after Charles and Emma Flannery left.
“I admit, I agreed to come because I’ve never been in this place,” Calvin Daily told Jon, seated on the sofa where the Flannery couple had been earlier. He was quite tall and lean, and appeared wiry, fit, and agile, with a thatch of light brown hair over his eyes, and an easy smile. “When I was a kid, we raced by this place at night. The ghost tours still come by, of course. And we’ve heard all the stories. Funny—they were often about the dead buried in the walls, screaming for help. Well, not funny. Ironic. Anyway. To a kid, the place was terrifying.”
“Calvin, you walk Woof-Woof. So—”
“Sorry. That’s a ridiculous name. My mom gave it to the dog. I did not.”
“Hey, we all name our pets what we like, right?” Jon asked. “The thing is, you walk the dog. So, that means you’re out on the street.”
“I had to work yesterday. I didn’t get here until after dark. The only person I saw at the house was the new owner, and she was looking at it the way I did when I was a kid. Like I wouldn’t want the place on a silver platter.”
“But what about in the last days or even weeks? Did you see anyone here?”
“Yeah, last Saturday. They delivered a bed. And the realtor lady was out here with two workers, and…yeah. There was a cleaning crew, too. A lady and a man, on…mmm, Monday. Saw them come and go, and then saw the realtor lady check the lock on the door before she left. None of them was here without her, though.”
“Any cars that shouldn’t have been on the street here more than once?” Jon asked.
“None that I saw,” Calvin told him. He shook his head. “You know, people on this block have a love-hate relationship with the place. Ghost tours trample by—but they are careful. They never let anyone step foot on anyone’s property. It’s famous. Hey, when I order a pizza, it comes right away. Everyone knows the address. I am sorry. I just don’t think I know anything that can help you.”
“I appreciate you coming over,” Jon said. “Sometimes, what people don’t see is as important as what they do. By the way, what do you do?”
Calvin Daily made a strumming motion. “Musician. And Haunted Happenings is a happening time for me. Lots of gigs. That’s why…well, I wasn’t on the street all that much. Just made sure Woof-Woof got fed and ran around a bit. I’m also a part-time game designer. But playing gigs is what I love to do.”
“Well, thank you again. Hope to see you play someday.”
“Cool. You like music?”
“Of course.”
“Best rock guitarists?”
“In my mind? Hendrix, of course. Gilmour, Page, and Clapton.”
“All right, man. So, sure, cool, hope you make it to something. I’ll be on Essex Street, Halloween night. Playing with the Wolf Howlers. I didn’t pick that name, either.”
As Calvin was leaving, Kylie emerged from the kitchen. They talked briefly, with Kylie telling Calvin that she’d love to see him play someday and they’d try to make it Halloween night. Then Calvin looked at Jon as if he were a lucky man.
He was.
When the door closed on Calvin, Jon asked Kylie, “You found something?”
“Maybe. And maybe not.”
“Well?”
“I don’t think the half-moons are a symbol of any kind.”
“No?”
“I think they form a letter. I think they’re the letter M.”
Chapter 6
“M—as in Mary,” Kylie explained to Jon. “What Angela discovered was that the women who went missing and were later found dead—Ann Chester in the jack-o’-lantern, and Lily Franklin in the wall—were descendants of Ezekiel Johnson from his first wife. If someone is trying to right an old wrong, they might have etched out the letter M. The killer was saying the murder had been done for her—for Mary.”
“Okay, that makes sense. But Ezekiel Johnson went to the gallows after being convicted of her murder. Mary is in holy ground. And as far as I know, her spirit did not remain. And I believe we would know—Obadiah would have said something.”
“Do you think the first wife—?”
“She couldn’t have had anything to do with Mary’s death. She was already dead. A widower could remarry, but don’t forget, this was Puritan New England.”
“But she had children. We know that much. Angela traced the ancestry. And Mary had children, though from what I’ve seen on the ancestry sites, they spread out like wildfire—west and out of the country.”
“This is confusing,” Jon said. “Unless…”
“What?”
“Maybe the children of the first wife didn’t believe that she died of natural causes. Perhaps Ezekiel didn’t kill Mary. Maybe one of his children did. That could be why a descendant of Mary and Ezekiel wants to kill the descendants of the first wife? As crazy as that may be. But killing and placing bodies in jack-o’-lanterns and walls indicates a warped mental capacity to begin with.”