2 Tennyson

It had been a quiet Monday at West Side Magick, with only a few shoppers.

Ten and Cope had one reading client each and by half past one, Ten had started watching the clock.

The end of summer brought an end to the huge tourist crowds Salem attracted, at least for the time being.

Ten knew this lull was only temporary.

Halloween was next level in the Witch City.

When Ten had first moved to Salem, spooky season officially began around the middle of October.

As the years had passed.

That date moved back toward the beginning of the month.

Now, crowds started showing up around the Fall Equinox, toward the end of September.

If the trend continued, Halloween celebrations would start right after the Fourth of July.

Ronan loved the fact that stores started selling Trick or Treat candy around Labor Day.

Ten had no doubt that before too long Halloween tourism would grow to encompass all of September and there wouldn't be a gap between summer and fall crowds, but for now, he and West Side Magick were in a bit of a slowdown.

A knock on Ten's door broke his concentration. "Come in, Cope."

"I'm bored,"

Cope grumped before throwing himself into one of the chairs at Ten's reading table. Let's go do something fun before the kids get off the bus."

"What's fun?"

Ten asked with a snarky smile.

"You know, that thing we used to have before diaper changes and PTA meetings took over our lives."

"I hear that."

Ten sighed.

It had been a while since the last time he'd had some time completely to himself.

He wouldn't trade being a father for anything in the world, but there were times when he wanted to sit in front of a cozy fire and spend an uninterrupted day reading a book.

"How about a trip to the bookstore?"

Ten was fully aware that shopping for and buying books was a completely different hobby than sitting down to read them.

"That sounds good! We can go to that cat café across town where they have stacks of used books and cats who browse the shelves with you."

"Then we could get pumpkin spice lattes and enjoy them hot instead of cold because we got distracted by the kids."

It really was the simple things in life that brought Ten the most joy. Pumpkin spice was one of them. Until recently, Ronan had been a coffee snob and didn't think it should be flavored with anything, French Vanilla, hazelnut, and peppermint included. Ten accused Ronan of sucking all the joy out of life and in an attempt to redeem himself in his husband's eyes, Ronan had agreed to try Ten's coffee. He'd been hooked from the first sip.

"I'll grab my keys, they're in my office."

Cope sprinted out the door.

"Slow down, where's the fire?"

Carson asked Cope before, sticking his head into Ten's office.

"Since there are no customers, we thought we'd play hooky until it's time to get the kids off the bus."

Ten couldn't wait to get out of the office and spend the next hour or two doing something just for himself.

Carson's face lit up. "I want in on that action, but there's someone here to see you."

Ten tried to keep the frown he was feeling off his face. "I don't have any readings on the books for the rest of the day."

"This person just walked in and I don't think they're here for a reading, at least not for themselves."

"Carson, what are you talking about?"

Ten studied his friend for a few seconds and felt a strange vibe coming off him. "Who is this person?"

"You're not going to believe this. I didn't either at first. I'll go get her."

Carson hurried out of the office.

"What the hell is going on with Carson?"

Cope asked, walking back into the office. "His aura feels strange."

Ten had been thinking the same thing. "He said there was a walk-in customer who needs to see me, but there seems to be a bit more to it than that. Will you sit in with us? I have a feeling two heads are definitely going to be better than one here."

Cope nodded and took the seat next to Tennyson at the table.

"Here we are, Laura,"

Carson ushered a middle aged woman into the room. She was dressed in mom jeans and a flannel shirt which looked like it had been brand new during the Clinton administration. In the woman's arms was a black box that looked like it was made of plastic. A sticker with an airplane logo was affixed to the upper left corner. "This is Tennyson Grimm, and another of our psychics, Cope Forbes."

"Thanks, Carson."

Laura set the box on the table and shook hands with the psychics.

Carson shot Ten a strange look before he backed out of the room and shut the door behind him. "How can we help you?"

Ten took a moment to read the woman and nearly burst out laughing. Her mind was spinning over her discovery and how it was going to make her the talk of the Clifton Park Book Club. She imagined the jealous looks on the other ladies faces and the way they'd clutch their proverbial pearls when she told her harrowing story. What the hell was going on here?

Laura took a minute to settle herself at the table. She took a deep breath and set her sights on Tennyson. "Mr. Grimm you are not going to believe the story I'm about to tell you. Maybe we should call the media to do a press conference? I'd need a different shirt for that. I look like a lumberjack."

As Laura continued to go on and on about her outfit, the state of her makeup and her hair, which really could use a trim and blonde highlights, Ten was reading the woman. She was over the moon excited by the prospect of being on television. She wasn't only interested in being on the local Boston stations, but thought this story would go national, landing her a spot as a contestant on Big Brother , Survivor , and several other reality shows. Ten had no idea what was in the box and frankly couldn't wait to find out. "Let's hear the story first and then we can decide if getting the media involved is the right move for you."

"Yes, that's a good plan. I can call my hairdresser as soon as we've talked."

Laura sat up straighter in her seat. "I had a baby six months ago. I've been trying to take the baby weight off."

Ten simply nodded. He knew better than to weigh in on the topic of a woman's weight. Pun intended.

"You wouldn't believe the things you can learn about your neighbors from their trash, recycling, and donations. Just last week Mary Knowles put out bags of clothes to be donated. They were her F-A-T clothes. I've seen that woman inhale a cheesecake from across the room and the last thing she needs is to be getting rid of those sizes. She's on the weight loss shots now, but I've heard that the weight all comes right back when you stop taking it. Of course it does. One needs to exercise self-control in order to maintain a healthy weight."

It was on the tip of Ten's tongue to mention what the self-professed Queen of Self-Control had for dinner last night, a double quarter pounder with cheese, fries and two apple pies, then went on to have a bag of microwave popcorn and several fun-sized candy bars she'd originally bought for Trick or Treaters. He wisely decided to stay quiet and let the woman continue to ramble on.

"Where does the box come into play?"

Cope asked. Ten could tell his friend was upset that their free time was slipping away over this woman who sounded as if she had all day to sit and gossip about her neighbors' trash.

"Well,"

Laura began, her blue eyes flashing. "I was out for my walk this morning. Monday's are trash day in my neighborhood. I walked by a house a few blocks over. I don't know who lives there, whoever it is doesn't come to our book club meetings, even though we put invitations in all the mailboxes for a half- mile radius. Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet, right?"

"Exactly,"

Ten said, agreeing with the woman. He had a feeling the reason the woman in question hadn't decided to join the book club was because she knew the kind of neighbor Laura was. She wasn't interested in turning strangers into friends, Laura was interested in their gossip, plain and simple. The dirtier the laundry, the better.

"Anyway, there was a lot of trash in front of this person's house. Clothes that had that old lady funk to them, not to mention they looked like something out of Victorian London. There were boxes of photographs, most in black and white. Cat toys and food, which of course made me wonder what happened to the kitties. We must protect those less fortunate than us."

She turned to Ten expectantly.

"Yes, we need to protect cats,"

Ten said, trying to keep a straight face. He wasn't laughing at the ideas that animals needed human protectors, but at the fact that this woman had been sitting at the table for ten minutes and he still had no earthly idea why she was here or what he could to for her.

"Speaking of protecting those less fortunate than us,"

Laura said.

Ten's raised his hopes that she was finally about to get to the meat of the conversation.

"Can you believe someone left this perfectly good box out for the trash men?"

Laura tapped the top of it.

The box sounded solid. It was about the size of a mailbox people hung on the house near the front door. The kind with a weatherproof lid that keeps the mail dry in the rain and snow. "I'm glad that you're the kind of woman who sees the value in things that people cast aside, but I'm not sure why an empty plastic box necessitated a trip to West Side Magick."

"You don't know what's in here?"

Laura asked, narrowing her eyes on Tennyson. "You're a psychic, Mr. Grimm, aren't you supposed to know these things?"

She looked absolutely delighted that she might have just proved Ten to be a fraud.

It took all of Ten's self-control not to burst out laughing. "Unfortunately, my gift can't penetrate plastic. Superman can't see through lead and my Kryptonite is plastic."

Cope let out a startled noise, turning it into a cough. Ten, playing along, patted his back. "Sorry, choking on my own spit. Happens all the time."

He turned to Laura. "I'm surprised that a smart and obviously well-read woman like yourself didn't know about our problem with plastic. It's well documented. I think it was even written up in the Journal of Parapsychology ."

Laura turned her nose up at Cope. "My issue must have gotten lost in the mail."

The woman rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Tennyson. "The box is not empty, Mr. Grimm."

"Okay, so what's in it?"

Ten's patience was starting to slip away. He was almost at the point where he didn't care what the hell was in box.

"Not what, Mr. Grimm, but who ."

Laura flashed a dazzling, triumphant smile. Ten had a feeling this was the look she wore when she revealed gossip to her book club.

"Who?"

Ten asked, taking a closer look at the box.

"That's what I want you to figure out."

Laura pushed the box toward Ten, who was finally able to read the airplane sticker.

"Flight ready. X-rayable item,"

he read, finally realizing what the box was. "This is a temporary cremation urn."

All the annoyance Ten had felt toward Laura vanished in an instant. "Where did you say you found this box?"

"Out on the curb with the rest of the trash. A couple of blocks from my house."

Ten turned the box around, so he could see all four sides of it. "Usually there's a sticker that lists the name of the funeral home, the name and address of the deceased, and other information. Where's the sticker?"

"This is how I found the box."

Laura said with a shrug. "But you don't need the sticker's information because you can just talk to the crispy critter and get them to tell you their name, right?"

Ten gritted his teeth. "Spirits don't usually stay with their remains. It's possible they've already crossed over or they could be elsewhere, visiting family and friends, or maybe even stuck in the place where they died."

There were millions of places the spirit belonging to these remains could be. What Ten knew for certain is that there were no ghosts in the room with them at present.

"Okay, so what do we do next?"

Laura asked, her earlier exuberance back in full force. "Do we hold a séance? Grab a Ouija board? Call in more experienced psychics who can actually reach the spirit of this poor abandoned soul?"

"No, we're not going to do any of those things. Let's get some information from you. What's your last name, Laura?"

Ten asked.

She raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Cooper,"

Ten said, answering his own question and earning a gasp from Laura. "Address?"

he asked. "Never mind, it's 884 Stanton Hope Street, here in Salem."

Cope jotted down everything Ten was saying, including Laura's phone number. "Do you know the address of the house where you found the box?"

Laura shook her head. "I wasn't really paying attention."

No, Ten thought, she was too busy being excited over her chances of living in the Big Brother house and having the best gossip at the next book club meeting. "Do you have an Apple Watch, iPhone, or fitness tracker that records where you go on your walks?"

"I don't like anything to interfere with my walks. I like to smell the fresh air and listen to the sounds of the birds chirping."

Or the sounds of neighbors fighting. "Thank you for bringing this box to us, Laura. We'll take it from here."

Ten stood up, hoping the woman would as well.

"What do you mean, you'll take it? It's my box. I'm the one who found it. I should be the one to keep it. What if there are treasures inside?"

Ten couldn't believe his ears. "What do you mean treasures ?"

he asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

Laura shot Ten a look that said she thought the psychic was out of his mind. "Gold teeth, silver fillings, jewelry. You know, actual treasures," she said.

"Did you just admit to grave robbing?"

Ten asked, trying hard not to smirk at the woman. "If you know as much about me as you said earlier, than you know my husband is a member of the Salem Police Department."

Ten pulled out his phone. "I'll just text him and ask him to come down here."

"No!"

Laura half-shouted. "Keep the box, and the treasures."

She headed for the door. "I can't wait to tell all my friends that you're a fraud."

Jerking open the door, Laura strode from the room.

Ten sighed. "I can't wait to tell her that her husband is banging the smoking hot twenty year old nanny."

Cope snorted. "Not to mention a co-worker and his accountant."

"The girl who works the drive-thru window at McDonalds,"

Ten added, with a giggle.

"The neighborhood dog walker,"

Cope screamed with laughter.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

Carson asked, with Cole standing behind him. "That woman just flounced out the door threatening to sue us."

Ten was laughing too hard to answer. He wouldn't ordinarily get pleasure from another person's misfortunes, but Laura had been completely rude to him and Cope, not to mention her reprehensible idea of sifting through another human being's ashes hoping to strike it rich.

Cope filled the brothers in on what happened, between bursts of laughter.

"I think we need to call Ronan and the others to come down here and take a look at the box. We obviously have to find a way to reunite this person with their family."

He wasn't sure Ronan would be able to help this poor lost soul. Ten wasn't going to give up until these remains were properly laid to rest.