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So maybe it had been a good idea for Gran to give us to Charlene as a present, even though her intentions had been less therapeutic and more born from deep suspicion.

One of the final trailers in the parade had the words‘Madame Solange’ painted across the side, and up in front sat a woman dressed in a sort of flowing robe. She looked to be in her early thirties, had long fair hair with two small braids, and was really pretty.

And oddly enough, next to the woman sat a man, who looked like the spitting image of… Uncle Alec!

Charlene must have seen it, too, for she did a double take, then said,“Isn’t that Alec over there?” And then without awaiting our response—and why would she?—she started frantically waving at the man, who sat stoically staring before him.

Madame Solange, who must have thought Charlene was waving at her, returned the wave with a vague smile on her pretty face.

But then Charlene was yanking us forward and in the direction of the trailer.

“Alec!” she yelled. “Alec, it’s me!”

But this Alec lookalike didn’t even look up at the sudden commotion.

And then, before Charlene could reach Madame Solange’s trailer, suddenly a couple of burly men showed up, and physically held her back. They must have been parade security, protecting the fair and circus people from overzealous fans like Charlene.

And as Charlene kept jogging alongside the trailer, dragging us along with her, I noticed something else. Cameras! Everywhere I looked I saw cameras filming the parade, and now also filming the crazy woman dragging two poor cats and yelling‘Alec’ all the while.

“Please, ma’am,” said one of the security people. “For your own safety, please stay behind the barrier.”

“But that’s my boyfriend up there!” said Charlene.

“Where?” asked the burly man, giving her a look of confusion.

“Up there with that woman. His name is Alec and he’s my boyfriend.”

“That’s impossible, ma’am,” said the security guy. “That’s Wolf, Madame Solange’s husband. And now I’m going to have to ask you to please return behind the barrier.”

So Charlene did as she was told, even though clearly she wasn’t happy about it.

And it has to be said, the guy only shared a vague resemblance to Uncle Alec. For one thing, this Wolf sported a funky rust-colored mustache. And for another, he had a full head of hair, something Uncle Alec hadn’t been able to claim for many, many years.

“Poor Charlene,” said Dooley. “Now she’s starting to see things.”

“It’s normal,” I said. “She’ll start seeing Uncle Alec everywhere she goes from now on. It’s the strain from the kidnapping that’s starting to make itself felt now.”

“I really thought it was him,” our new human now murmured softly. “Sweet Alec…”

And then she started the trek home, and frankly not a moment too soon, too. People were starting to point at her, and those camera crews that had captured her frantic intervention would probably be transmitting that footage of a mayor gone berserk.

If Charlene wasn’t careful, soon she would be mayor of Hampton Cove no more.

Chapter 14

Marge compared the numbers on her lottery ticket with the ones on the television screen and had to admit they didn’t match—not one single number had she gotten right.

Disappointed, she crumpled up the ticket and thought dark thoughts of that woman—that Madame Solange, who’d promised she’d win the lottery in the next couple of days.

Three days had gone by since she and Tex visited the fortune teller at the fair and still nothing. So far she’d only lost money, not gained a single cent, and Tex’s prediction hadn’t materialized either.

“Better luck next time, hon,” said her husband, rubbing her back consolingly.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” she said.

“If Madame Solange said you’re going to win, you’re going to win. I’m sure about it.”

“I think Odelia is on to us,” said Marge as she darted a quick look at the family room door. Odelia had a habit of dropping by unannounced. That was the disadvantage of having a professional reporter for a daughter: snooping around and listening at keyholes came naturally to this breed of nosy parkers, even when it concerned their own family.

“I think I made a convincing case though, didn’t I?” Tex said.

“Oh, yeah, I thought you were great, honey. She’d never think you were as keen on Madame Solange as I am.” Though her excitement was waning fast.

Just then, there was a rattle of the mailbox, and she frowned. The postwoman never came by this late. But since her favorite show was about to start, it was up to Tex to take a look. When he returned, he just stood there, frowning at a piece of paper in his hand.

“What were those winning lottery numbers again, honey?” he asked.

“Um… Five, four, and the rest I don’t remember.”

His shoulders sagged.“Nope. I thought for a moment…” And he walked over to place a lottery ticket into her hands.