During Evie’s guided tours of the museum, a simple linen cap became the coif of a Salem witch who’d been accused of dancing with the Devil in the woods. A bowl of water Evie had poured that morning and placed on a table with two lit candles was “a blessing from monks to keep the room free from spiritual corruption.” She made a small altar and placed the bone fragment from the Chinese railroad worker alongside a spirit photograph taken in western Massachusetts and told gullible guests it was the bone of the girl in the picture—a girl who still haunted the museum. At that, Sam would blow a hidden bellows, making the curtains move, and the jaded Janes and their dapper dates would gasp and chuckle, thrilled by their close call with a ghost.
It was on one such afternoon that Will returned from a lecture to find the museum crowded with visitors spilling out of the objects room. He tried to get closer and was rebuffed by a young man: “Wait your turn, Father Time.” Will peered over the heads of two flappers and saw Evie holding forth: “Of course, you must be very careful around these objects. They’re quite powerful. You wouldn’t want them to haunt you after you’ve gone.”
“They can do that?” a woman in the front row asked. She looked alarmed.
“Oh, yes!” Evie said. “But that’s why we sell the charms in the gift shop. They’re replicas of ancient tokens said to ward off evil.” Evie held up a small silver disk. “I keep several on me at all times. You can never be too safe, especially with an occult killer loose in the city.”
“Evie!” Will barked from the corridor. “May I speak to you in private for a moment?”
Evie forced a smile. “Of course, Dr. Fitzgerald. This is Professor Fitzgerald, the museum’s curator and the city’s top academic in the field of Things That Go Bump in the Night. As you know, Dr. Fitzgerald is aiding the police in their investigation of the heinous murders terrorizing the city. As am I.”
As one, the crowd turned to look at Will, fluttering with excitement.
“Do tell us more about the crimes, won’t you, Professor,” a young woman called. “Is it true he drinks their blood and wears their clothing? Is he really committing these horrid crimes as a judgment against Prohibition?”
Will glared at Evie, who immediately busied herself with rubbing an imaginary spot of dirt from the wall.
“Evie, in my office. Now, please.”
“Certainly, Unc—Dr. Fitzgerald. I’ll be with you in a moment, ladies and gentlemen. Please do be careful. I wouldn’t want you to disturb the spirits. Anyone who wants to shell out the rubes for some protective charms, please see our associate Mr. Sam Lloyd in the gift shop.”
“Evangeline! Now!”
Evie closed the doors of the small office behind her. The wood thrummed with the gossiping of excited customers. “Yes, Unc?”
“What on earth are you doing?” Will demanded. He’d lit a cigarette and grabbed a handful of nuts at the same time and seemed uncertain which he should bring to his mouth first.
“I’m leading a tour.”
“I can see that. What sort of nonsense are you telling these people?”
“I am creating an atmosphere! Oh, Unc, we’ve finally got bodies in this joint! Paying bodies. We could have a good racket going here.”
“I’m not interested in a ‘racket.’ I’m an academic.”
“That’s okay, Unc. I won’t hold it against you.
“And since when do we have a gift shop?”
“Since last night. Now don’t cast a kitten—there are no precious artifacts being given away. I used your embosser and sealing wax on some tinfoil. Voilà! Instant charms.”
“That’s dishonest!”
“No, that’s business,” Evie replied. Will went to speak, but Evie silenced him with pleading hands. “Unc, when Lucky Strike sells you cigarettes, do they say, ‘We have a tobacco product in a box for you’? Why, of course not! They say, ‘Lucky Strike is the one for me!’ and they show you pictures of beautiful people in beautiful places enjoying that cigarette as if… as if they were making love!”
Will coughed out a lungful of smoke. “I beg your pardon?”
“They make you want it. You have to have it. It’s what everyone who’s simply anyone has, so you’d better get on the trolley, kiddo, or be left out. That is what I’m doing with our museum.”
“Our museum?” Will put the nuts back in the dish and took another drag on his cigarette. Then he pointed it at Evie. “You will not sell any more ‘charms.’ And stick to the facts. Do I make myself clear?”
