“Please be quiet, ma'am. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

I was hustled into an office by two burly rangers. “Just what do you think you're doing?” I said indignantly

“You were acting suspicious, miss. Snooping around the exhibit cases. We'd like to know why.”

“May I please get my ID cards out of my purse?” I was afraid they'd shoot me or something if I moved without permission.

“Go ahead.”

I produced enough identification to prove to them that I really was Tori Miracle and that I really worked for a newspaper. Then I had to explain why I was examining their cases so closely.

“Off the record, miss, we're trying to downplay the thefts. Some people around here already think we don't take proper care of the collection. The articles disappeared way back last spring, and the fuss has died down. We'd like to keep it that way.”

“You said articles. What else was stolen?”

The two men glanced at each other. “Some battle flags, belt buckles, insignia, all things that could be easily carried out by one or two people.”

“All from the display cases?”

One of them shook his head. “Ninety-two percent of the collection is stored in the basement, below the exhibit area.”

“Everything that was taken was quite valuable, I suppose?”

“To the right person.”

“Did they disappear during working hours?”

“No. We found them gone when we opened up in the morning. Why are you so interested?”

“Some valuable antiques were stolen this week from a Lickin Creek collection. I thought there might be a tie-in.”

“What was stolen?”

“Some trumpets from the volunteer fire company headquarters. Why are you laughing?”

“I hardly think the kind of petty thief who'd steal some old tin trumpets is in the same class as the cat burglar who stole General Meade's sword.”

“So you're saying Lickin Creek has a lower class of thieves than Gettysburg? That's an odd kind of snobbery.”

The two men quickly ushered me out of the building, as though afraid I might contaminate a tourist or two.

“I know when I'm not wanted,” I said, shaking my arms free from their grip.

While trying to get my car started, I seethed with anger. However, the day wasn't wasted. I still had time to visit Moonbeam Nakamura. While waiting for the traffic to subside at the square, I recalled my brief encounter with her in the restaurant. Moonbeam was the only person I'd talked to who had referred to Mack's death as murder. And she seemed to be in a relationship with the repulsive reenactor Woody Woodruff. I can help you, she had said. Had she been trying to tell me in code that she knew what had happened? I had a lot more to ask her than why her father-in-law had disliked the retired congressman.

This time, the street was empty when I parked in front of Dreamgate. How anybody could make a living tucked away on this remote back street was beyond me. The sign on the door said CRYSTALS, CANDLES, ESSENTIAL OILS, COLOR THERAPEUTICS, AND CHANNELING: CLASSES AVAILABLE IN AROMATHERAPY, FENG SHUI, DRUMMING, AND REIKI. AURA READINGS BY APPOINTMENT. If there was anything she'd missed, it had probably been accidental. Moonbeam seemed to provide something for everybody, or at least everybody whose tastes were New Age.

The door swung open before I touched it. “Come in. Come in.” Moonbeam stood before me in a long white dress with a crinkly pleated skirt. So many strings of agate beads hung from her neck, I wondered how she could stand up straight. Around her shoulders was draped a purple rayon shawl embroidered with roses, decorated with sequins, and edged with fringe. She wore Birkenstocks as big as Volkswagens on her feet. I thought she looked like a refugee from a German fairy tale. Garnet's sister would have found her outfit attractive. I didn't.

“I knew you'd come today.”

“Oh yes, I nearly forgot-you're psychic.”

“I am. But that's not why. When I learned you are having surgery tomorrow for breast cancer, I thought…”

“Where did you hear that? It's not true. I can't believe the way rumors spread around here.”

She stepped back as though affronted. “I don't remember where I heard it. Guess it's just one of those things that float in the air.”

Great! Now my personal health issues were “floating in the air.” The Lickin Creek Grapevine obviously had longer tendrils than I suspected for it to reach all the way to Gettysburg.

The air inside the shop smelled of patchouli incense, and the only light came from dozens of burning candles set about the room. My eyes smarted from the heavy smoke and odors.

“… and I thought you'd be in for some help,” she continued as if I hadn't interrupted her. “Come sit down and let me think about what you need.” She led me to a cozy corner in the back of the room, where two chairs faced each other across a low table. I sat on the chair she pointed to and watched as she lit a purple candle and placed it on the table.

“Look, Moonbeam. I didn't come for a health consultation. I only want to ask you a few questions about your father-in-law and your…” I grasped for the right words and finally came up with “your friend, Woody.”

“Close your eyes and relax, Tori.”

“How long have you known Woody?”

“Take a deep breath and hold it.” From somewhere came the sound of a choir of angels.

“Is he trustworthy?”

“Let's try that again, Tori. Take a deep breath, hold it… good… now, exhale slowly.”

“Can you think of any reason he'd want Representative Macmillan dead?”

“Picture a place where you have been truly happy. Now imagine you are there.”

“Could he have been mistaken about the ammunition he took to the college?”

“You are walking in that special place. Take a deep breath. Exhale and let the tension flow away from you. You are happy in your special place.”

A tropical beach. Palm trees. Turquoise waters. Sand scrunching beneath my feet. Salt spray tingling my nose. Sun burning my skin, but in a good way. Gentle waves caressing my ankles, rolling away, coming back.

From far away, someone called my name. I smiled and looked around for the person. “Tori… Tori…”

I saw no one. Was she hidden by the dunes?

“… when you wake up you will be totally refreshed. Whenever you are feeling down, your special place will always be there for you. Now open your eyes.”

My eyes popped open. “You hypnotized me!”

She smiled. “Don't you feel better?”

“I do. But… that's not what I came for.”

“I know what you came for. And I can also tell you what you want to know about Woody. And maybe even my father-in-law, although I can't imagine why you're interested in him. Why don't you come home with me and have dinner? We can talk there.”

“I'm not sure…”

“There's no need to be nervous, Tori. I'm not as weird as I look; I dress this way because my customers expect it. I'm a member of the Chamber of Commerce, volunteer at the hospital once a month, drive an SUV, and have a teenage daughter who's at the age where she gives me weekly migraines. How much more normal can a person be? The only really odd thing about me is I'm a registered Democrat-a rarity in south-central Pennsylvania.”

She called out to someone in the back. “Phoebe, I'm going now. Please be sure the door is locked when you leave. I don't want another call from the police telling me the door's open.”

A young woman dressed all in black including her lipstick, and heavily hung with silver crosses, stuck her head through the bamboo curtain. “Like it was my fault…”

Moonbeam sighed. “It was your fault, Phoebe. You didn't lock the door.” She picked up her purse, an antique mesh bag, and said to me, “Let's go.”

Maybe I was still hypnotized, but I went with her.

“You can follow me,” Moonbeam said. “My car's right in front of yours.”

It only took five minutes to reach Moonbeam's Victorian house on the edge of town. It sat far back on a large lot. On either side were smaller, modern ranch houses.