“And from what Samuels’s ghost said, ‘The Collector’ is from a rival crime family as well as rich and unethical,” Ben mused.
“Which shouldn’t be a surprise given the Commodore Wilson’s past. Over the years, there were Mafia-sponsored gatherings at the hotel using thinly-veiled aliases.” Erik drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I just feel like we’ve missed something, and I don’t want it to bite us on the ass.”
Ben glanced in the side mirror. “Still got the cop on our tail. I wonder what he makes of all this. We aren’t typical of what he’s probably used to shadowing.”
“We haven’t hit one bookie, gambling joint, or house of ill repute all week,” Erik replied.
“I used to be a private investigator, remember? That job definitely shows you the seamier side of life. I thought I waspretty jaded from being a cop, but being a detective takes that to a whole new level.”
“When I wasn’t dealing with greedy billionaires and dishonest art dealers, I was appraising art that had been bought with literal blood money,” Erik replied. “I might have seen a richer level of scum than you did, but I had a good reason for wanting to get out.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “So far, we haven’t gotten very far out.”
Erik shrugged. “We have unique skills, and if we want to keep our adopted town safe, we need to use those abilities. Great power, great responsibility, yada yada.”
“Yeah, I feel the same way. But it’s a lot more excitement than I bargained for,” Ben said.
Erik reached over and took his hand. “At least we’re in it together. That makes all the difference.”
Ben squeezed his hand. “Absolutely.”
Both had come to Cape May after disastrous breakups that had left them wondering if they would ever find the right partner. As far as Ben was concerned, Erik was worth all the danger.
Ben spotted the woman sitting on the steps when Erik parked the SUV. “Looks like we’ve got company.”
Trinkets’ magical protections responded to lock picking, attempts to break in by force or magic, and physical harm to the store. That meant that packages and mail could still be delivered safely, and someone coming by with innocent intent after store hours could ring the doorbell or knock gently without getting whammied.
“Can I help you?” Erik asked as they approached the petite woman in a nun’s gray habit who rose as they approached.
“Erik Mitchell and Ben Nolan?” she asked. When they nodded, she extended her hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you.I’m Sister Mary Barbara from the St. Expeditus Society. We need to talk.”
Erik unlocked the door and released the physical and magical alarm systems. They welcomed Sister Mary Barbara into the shop, and Ben motioned toward the seats around a small table where Erik appraised new items.
“Please, have a seat,” Ben said. “Can we make you a cup of tea?”
“Thank you, but no. Maybe a glass of water,” Sister Mary Barbara replied.
Ben went to get the water as Erik and the sister took their seats. He joined them minutes later, and the nun sipped the water with a nod of thanks.
“Monty and Jon said we needed to talk to folks at the convent,” Erik said. “But you’ve beaten us to it.”
She laughed, and her eyes sparkled. “Hard to surprise folks who are seers and mystics. How much do you know about St. Expeditus by the Sea?”
Erik leaned back in his chair. “Probably not nearly as much as we should,” he admitted. “The building started out as a hotel and was reused a couple of times, including by the military during World War II, before becoming a convent.”
“A very unusual type of convent,” Ben joined in. “Taking in stray ghosts that aren’t ready to move on.”
Sister Mary Barbara smiled. “You’ve got the basics. Over the years, we have come out of seclusion when the community needed us to help with emergencies, and during wartime we used our paranormal abilities to help the cause. But we prefer to keep to our studies and intervene in a less public, more supernatural way.”
“Do I take that to mean that you serve as guardians, after a fashion?” Erik asked.
She nodded. “In our own way. We can’t prevent all dangers, or keep away everything evil, but where we can give anudgein the right direction, we try to make a difference.”
Ben found that idea vaguely reassuring.
“How did the convent coexist with the Commodore Wilson Hotel?” Erik asked. “You overlapped for most of a century.”
“The land beneath the Commodore Wilson is cursed.” Sister Mary Barbara confirmed something they already suspected. “When the Order of St. Expeditus purchased the building that became the convent, it did so with the purpose of being a counterbalance.”
