The Evil Inside

were in the front, curios and books in the center section and clothing to the rear.

Cecilia smiled. “I always wanted my own shop! Well, it’s almost my own. Do you remember Ivy Summers?” she asked.

“Could I forget?” Sam asked, and rolled his eyes. “She broke my Nintendo!”

Jenna laughed. “I remember Ivy, yes.”

“We actually own the shop together. Ivy is at home, working the computer sales, which are fantastic. We’re really pleased.”

“That’s great,” Sam told her.

“Ah, well, not as great as being an attorney who shows up on the front page of the Huffington Post, CNN-you name it! And now, so I hear, you’re defending the Smith boy!” she said, her voice curious and excited. “Give! Is it true? Sam, that whole family was whacked-out crazy, you know.”

“Cecilia! Would you be judging others?” he asked.

She shrugged. “No. Yes. Well, you have to judge them. Wiccan, Judeo-Christian, whatever! The whole rest of the town thought they were all crazy.”

“But there are people who think you’re crazy,” Sam reminded her. “Sorry, I don’t mean you. I mean all Wiccans.” He smiled broadly.

She waved a hand in the air. “Hey, yeah, well, people are people, and we don’t all get along. But that’s different.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend!”

“You are exasperating!” Cecilia said. She looked at Jenna. “So…are you two dating now or something?”

“No…” Jenna said, startled and looking at Sam.

“Malachi Smith was Jamie’s patient at one time,” Sam explained. “She’s helping me, because her uncle believes in Malachi’s innocence.”

Cecilia seemed puzzled. “But-it’s all cut-and-dried, isn’t it? Aren’t you going to pursue an insanity plea or whatever?”

“I can’t really talk about that,” Sam said, shifting gears. “So, you give! Any great grudges dominating the town talk these days? Any shopkeepers stolen the customers of another? What’s the rumor mill like? Any idea how the local pot and meth trade are doing?”

Cecilia looked at them both incredulously. “Wait, you think that the Smith family was murdered over drugs?”

“Probably not,” Sam said. “But, hey, I thought I’d throw some stuff out there, since you talk to everyone, figured you’d know about town dynamics. Like, was Abraham Smith fighting with anybody?”

Cecilia laughed. “Anybody? How about everybody? No one liked him much, but no one bothered with him much. His wife never left the house.” She frowned. “Oh, there was a fellow-a councilman-who had wanted to buy the property. I think someone else wanted to buy it, too. Wiccan gossip at the bars late at night…” she explained. “I’m sorry, don’t know if it’s true or not, but-oh, there was something in the local paper about the councilman vying for the place.”

“Councilman Yates?” Sam asked.

“Um, yes, I think so,” Cecilia said. “And someone else…a magician, a medium, someone like that-oh, yes! Samantha Yeager.”

“Two interested parties-for a house with that reputation?” Jenna asked, trying to refocus Cecilia’s energetic talking.

“Well, of course! What a tourist attraction-the only reason that they talk about it in the paper like that,” Cecilia said.

“But they can’t get rid of Peter Andres’s place,” Jenna said. “I was just out there, and I met with the Realtor.”

Cecilia shrugged, grinning broadly. “The Lexington House has a truly ghastly and grim history-the farm out in Andover had one bad thing happen, even if it was pretty bad. And that’s recent. People like historic ghosts much more than modern ghosts. Unless, of course, it’s a modern celebrity ghost. Everyone wants to stay at that Hard Rock in Florida in the room where Anna Nicole Smith died. But no one knew Peter Andres. Oh, come on, you don’t need to be a psychiatrist to notice the way that people just are! ”

“So, historically, we all know about the Lexington family, and the Braden family after them-so the house was worth a good deal if you want to open a tourist attraction,” Sam said.

“Oh, yes, of course. I think that the woman I was telling you about-Samantha Yeager-wanted the house for work. She’s kind of a newcomer-okay, she’s from as far away as Plymouth-but she reads tarot cards and does palm readings, sells cards, herbs and all the same stuff that we do. Yeah, yeah, I remember someone saying that she said it looks like the Lizzie Borden place, which is now like a B and B or something.”

“People would go to her rather than someone else for the ambience of the house?” Jenna asked drily.

“Of course! I’ll bet you it will be worth a mint now. Hey, the Smith kid will be able to pay you, Sam, if they sell it,” Cecilia said cheerfully.

“I’m doing the work pro bono,” Sam told her.

“Well, that’s kind of you, to help such a nutty kid.”

“I guess that’s universally accepted?” Jenna asked.

They both stared at her.

“Universally, as in locally, I mean,” Jenna said.

Cecilia nodded. “It’s like knowing about kooks anywhere you live, you know. Everybody knew that family- although, usually we didn’t give them all much thought. And, of course, in this area, Lexington House is legendary. Everyone thought it fitting that the Smiths lived there.” She grinned. “And, of course, in Salem, you have all the curiosity seekers who come to see what modern witches look like! It may be ‘Witch City,’ but we’re still the minority. I mean, we should be the alternative people. The Smith family made us all seem part of the same fabric in a way…” Cecilia was thoughtful a minute. “You know, if it weren’t backward…”

“If what weren’t backward?” Sam asked quickly.

“Well, I’m trying to remember. My sister just started teaching at the high school, so all she knows is what others say about the past, but if I remember this correctly-and you should definitely check me out, because I’m just giving you hearsay or whatever-but Peter Andres was vocal about Abraham Smith. He said that Smith had his own money, and that he was still collecting some kind of disability. That he was a drain on the taxpayers, was the epitome of the worst of the system-stuff like that. He stood up for Malachi, but he hated Abraham. Malachi, of course, always defended his father.”

“What did Abraham have to say about that?” Jenna asked.

Cecilia shrugged. “Nothing-nothing that I know about. But he wasn’t the kind to have a drink and chat at the bars!” she said. She smiled at them. “A lot of the merchants around here are actually good friends, and if we don’t like each other-or don’t always share the same philosophy or vision-we still support one another. We get together to plan Halloween activities, we work with the city and the museums. That’s how we stay afloat through the cold, icy winter when tourism isn’t so plentiful! So, yes, of course, we chat when we stop at the brewery or one of the bars, and we usually do hear what’s going on around town. You know back when that incident happened at the high school, some argued that Andy and Cindy Yates had a crazy kid themselves, and even some smart people said that suggestion could cause people to do very strange things. Kind of like you can brainwash yourself. Then, the other half of the people argued on the superstitious side. There was something strange about Malachi Smith. Maybe the devil actually lived up at Lexington House and had gotten into him. But, anyway, old Abraham took his son out of school without a word, and people stopped talking about it so much.”

“Until Peter Andres was murdered?” Jenna asked.

Cecilia hesitated. A group had just walked into the shop. The three women were wearing beautiful velvet capes, and Jenna had the feeling that they’d just been purchased. One of the men was dressed in similar fashion, but his hooded cape was brown wool.

“A mortar and pestle, Johnny!” one of the women said. “Ooh, in marble, how pretty-I bet I could cook up some spells with that!”

“Excuse me,” Cecilia said, and walked over to the group.