A sullen-looking young man answered the door. Ronan recognized Spencer Stephens instantly. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties and was dressed in the same concert tee and jeans he’d worn in the television interview. “Please tell me you found her.”
“Not yet,” Fitzgibbon said. “Are you Spencer?”
“I am. Are you here to help me find my Aunt?”
Fitzgibbon nodded. “I’m Captain Kevin Fitzgibbon from the Cold Case Unit of the Salem Police Department.”
“Cold case?” Spencer shrieked. “Are you here because you think I killed my aunt?” The color drained from the young man’s face. He looked as if he were on the verge of fainting. Fitzgibbon reached out and caught Spencer before he fell.
“Let’s get you inside and then we can talk.” Fitzgibbon maneuvered the man into the house and led him to a sofa in a cluttered living room. “These are detectives O’Mara and Byrne,” he said motioning to Ronan and Jude, who taken seat in arm chairs on the other side of the coffee table. “We’re here to see how we can help you find your missing aunt.”
“I’m just beside myself,” Spencer said.
“What was your aunt wearing the last time you saw her?” Ronan asked, pulling out his notebook and clicking his pen.
Spencer shot him a confused look. “I think she had on a pink sweater and jeans that were three sizes too big. Aunt Effy Lou loved to shop at Goodwill. I don’t understand how this information will help us find her.”
It was Ronan’s turn to feel surprised. “Now that we know what she was wearing, we can send out a be on the lookout bulletin to other police agencies and to the media.”
“How is knowing what my aunt was wearing the last time I saw her going to help you find her? Aunt Effy Lou died six weeks ago.” Spencer shook his head, as if he thought Ronan had a screw loose.
“She died six weeks ago?” Jude repeated, looking as stunned as he sounded.
This explained why John Jameson hadn’t called the Salem Police Department about Effy Lou’s disappearance. “There was no mention of this in the news interview.” He looked at Fitzgibbon, whose attention was firmly fixed on the young man.
Spencer shrugged. “I haven’t seen it. I told the reporter exactly what happened. It’s not my fault the TV station left out the most important piece of information. Anyway, I’ve been too busy dealing with all sorts of calls and messages about Aunt Effy Lou to have been watching television.”
“Why don’t you tell us the story from the beginning, to avoid any more confusion,” Fitzgibbon absently ran a hand through his hair.
“Aunt Effy Lou was my mother’s aunt. When my mother passed five years ago in a car crash, I became my aunt’s sole beneficiary.”
“You mean you were her only living heir?” Ronan asked, feeling annoyed that this man saw his aunt as means to an end, rather than a treasured family member.
“Yeah, that too.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Effy Lou’s husband left her a boatload of money when he died a few years ago and she was bound and determined to spend every last penny, never once thinking how her reckless spending would affect me.”
“Affect you?” Jude asked, looking as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Right,” Spencer agreed. “There was a reason Uncle Mort was such a cheapskate and it wasn’t so that Effy Lou could wasteall his hard earned money on cruises to the Caribbean and the cruise ship slot machines.”
“Whatwasthe reason?” Ronan asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
“To set me up for life, duh,” Spencer said.
Ronan couldn’t believe what Spencer was saying. He got up from his chair, wanting nothing more than to storm out of the house, but knew there was one last question he had to ask. “Was Effy Lou cremated?”
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed. “Her remains were in a black box. I was gonna dump them in the harbor, but then she vanished without a trace.”
Fitzgibbon raised a hand, as if he wanted to be called on by a school teacher. “Have you been cleaning out this house?”
“Yeah, I’ve been getting rid of all of Effy Lou’s shit. Pictures, knick-knacks, lace thingamajigs, you know, all the old lady stuff. I must have put the box out with all the other junk. I can’t sell the house with it looking like a bomb went off in here.” Spencer held his arms out, as if to point out the state of the house.
“Can you describe the box your aunt’s remains were in?” Ronan asked, having a very bad feeling Aunt Effy Lou was sitting in a locked cabinet back at West Side Magick.
“Yeah, it was black plastic, with a latch at the top and an airplane sticker on it.”
“Was there a label affixed to it with Effy Lou’s name, address and the funeral home that performed the cremation?”
“Uh, huh. I ripped it off though. Seemed pretty useless to me.” Spencer shrugged as if he couldn’t care less.
