Page 19 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Magic & Murder (The Hemlock Saga #1)

Saga

Getting groceries, doing laundry, and possibly grabbing takeout from Amritsari Kitchen—these had been Saga’s intended activities after ending her shift that day. Far from exciting, but necessary.

So to find herself in stride with a lady detective for an impromptu ride-along on her investigation was dizzying.

Avery did not have a car like Reza, and since she was a tad turned around, Saga led the way to the tube station.

It was strange, seeing someone so ethereal and composed look so terribly out of sorts.

Perhaps being back in London was more overwhelming for some than others.

Had she been out of the country? Would it be impolite to ask?

Avery was puzzled at the turnstile before watching Saga pass through, and when they came before the map of train lines, her brow had crumpled.

“Don’t stress,” Saga assured. “A lot of people get a bit turned around with the tube system. What’s the address?”

Avery reluctantly handed over the file once more for Saga to examine. “I…” She seemed to rethink her sentence and spoke again. “I don’t have money for the train on me, I’m afraid.”

Saga paused in her efforts to cross-reference the address on her phone.

“That’s all right, public transport is free in London, remember?

” At least it had been since Saga had been a child.

It was part of the government’s ongoing effort to keep traffic flowing and the air clean by decreasing the number of cars on the road.

“R-right,” said Avery. Then with an expression somewhere between embarrassment and irritation, she added. “I…forgot.”

“It happens. I take it this is very different from where you used to live?”

Avery met her gaze, and there was a flash of desperation in her eyes that reminded Saga of patients before going into the OR—something that said, “you have to help me.” Instead the woman chuffed a laugh, and the look was gone. “You have no idea.”

They took the Hammersmith and City line from Baker Street Station toward Hammersmith, Avery following closely behind Saga, but never taking the lead. They sat side by side in silence.

Saga was excited. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this sort of excitement. Not even her own wedding day had her heart thrumming the way it was now. It made it hard to sit still on the train. She found herself glancing at Avery periodically. She was distant, deep in thought.

The woman was ghostly against the contrast of the vibrant seats, a wraith shrouded in a black duster. Beneath a simple black vest, she wore a white button-up that had been left undone at the throat and collarbone, and high-waisted trousers had been tucked neatly into tall black riding boots.

It was at that moment it struck Saga that Avery appeared rather “out of time.” From no place in particular, but certainly not originating in the present day. It was oddly charming, albeit far too devoid of color.

A nice scarf would cheer the outfit up nicely. Something rich. Warm and rich.

The train chimed, and a woman’s posh accent broke Saga’s concentration as it slowed to a stop and the doors opened.

“This station is Wood Lane. Change here for the Circle Line.”

Again, Saga took the lead and they both exited the train.

“Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.”

It wasn’t a long walk to the apartment building, but now that they were not crowded by people, she felt like she could ask more about the case.

“So, for this…me-coming-with-you thing.” She thought better of the words after she said them, certain that Avery would regret inviting her along.

“What I mean is—what do you need me to do exactly?”

Despite the comfortable silence they had found next to each other for the eighteen minutes or so of travel both on foot and by train, this question got Avery’s attention in a way that suggested she’d forgotten Saga was there.

That was it. She’d done it now. Saga’s stomach lurched. Why did she say anything at all? She should have stayed quiet. Her mouth was always getting her into trouble.

“You brought the notebook and the pencil?” It was asked quietly, and gave the impression Avery already knew the answer.

Saga pulled the small pad of paper she’d used for writing down orders from her pocket.

“Would you mind terribly taking notes?” Avery’s voice did not raise in volume, but Saga had no trouble hearing it; it was gentle, low, and unassuming.

“I noticed you have a quick hand. It would help a lot to have more than just my memory to go on. Normally I can trust it, but…” She shook her head, dismissing the thought and causing the silvery strands across her forehead to rustle.

“I don’t mind,” Saga answered, then, feeling a little bolder. “Is that all you need me to do?”

“Fates no, what a waste that would be.” The answer came so naturally it could only be believed. Then, a thoughtful addendum. “Though, it would probably be best when in mixed company. Observe, take note, confer after in private.”

It made sense. After all, Saga was not with the police, she had no idea what should or shouldn’t be said, and the realization that she could absolutely bungle an interrogation or evidence made her incredibly nervous.

She hung back behind the other woman, watching the breeze play with the tail of her coat and the strands of her hair.

She held the Brigid medallion between her fingers.

The Bowery, an upscale apartment community that had been listed as Valentina’s last known address, was a newer addition to the area.

Part of a mixed-use development that seemed out of place in the quaint suburban neighborhood, it stood on natural stone pavement betwixt a market and a string of boutiques.

It towered up several stories through the wonders of modern architecture, with the materials and style of days long gone.

A large hunter-green awning stretched out onto the sidewalk, sheltering both the front door and a man dressed in a matching green uniform.

An odd sight. When Saga thought of the area, she thought of Brackenbury Village and the houses that resembled Easter eggs, or perhaps Ravenscourt Park and its paddling pool. It did not conjure an image of a man in a custom suit that matched the awning of the apartment for which he stood gatekeeper.

Avery appeared to share her mild confusion, for she produced a paper where she’d written the address and was glancing between it and the building in front of them. “Strange.”

“Innit?” Saga echoed. “I used to have a mate that lived round here. Can’t imagine when this sprung up though.”

Avery glanced at her before folding the paper back into an inside pocket only to produce something else. “Looks nothing like a farm either. Dutch or otherwise.”23

Saga wondered if a joke had just gone over her head as she followed after the taller woman who strode directly up to the porter.

“Afternoon, sir,” Avery greeted, flashing a little black notebook at the man. “Detective Inspector Avery Hemlock, I’m investigating the passing of one of your tenants.”

Hemlock? Had Saga known Avery’s last name was Hemlock? No. Surely, she’d have remembered that.

“Miss LaRosa.” His face fell and he removed his matching green Breton cap with a gold braid over the brim.

“You knew her?” Avery asked gently, giving a slight glance to Saga, who quickly produced her notebook and a pencil.

“It’s ma job to know everyone in the buildin’,” the porter answered with what might have usually been a point of pride but was significantly diminished in the wake of Valentina’s death.

“Sanderson Fitz, been a doorman for nearly half my life. Not here though. Here is new.” He tapped his temple.

“Eighth floor. Number 5. Miss LaRosa and Miss Walker. No pets. Moved in two years ago. One of the first, just after the building opened. Think Miss Walker knew one of the developers. She’s in real estate. ”

Saga mused that learning Gregg shorthand had been invaluable for taking notes at school, with the added bonus of making it rather impossible for any of her classmates to copy her notes.

This skill set had unconsciously seeped into taking orders at the café (much to the cooks’ vexation), and now it served her to take down witness accounts of a possible murder investigation word for word.

“Do you happen to know Miss Walker’s first name?”

“Rachel.”

Saga stopped writing abruptly, shocked. She caught Avery’s eye, seeing the barest hints of an approving smile on her lips. A wave of goose bumps crashed over her skin, and she forced herself to look back at the man in green.

“Do you know if there’d been problems between the two of them lately?”

He fidgeted with his hat. “Miss LaRosa hadn’t been home for a couple of weeks. I figured they’d sort it out—they always did. Miss LaRosa did come back before the accident.”

“When was that?” Avery pressed.

“About a week before she passed?”

“And where was Miss Walker during that time?” There was a calmness to Avery’s voice that was almost hypnotic. It didn’t demand answers, it beckoned them with a tone that knew it would be given satisfaction.

Saga found herself oddly wishing she had the answers so she could be the one to deliver them. It was a strange sensation—an intoxicating desire, no, a need to answer the melody of Avery’s voice if she had the information.

“Miss Walker had been staying with her mother until recently. She didn’t want to be around when Miss LaRosa returned.” He gave a sad smile. “They would have worked it out, Inspector. They always did. God just didn’t have the time, I suppose.”

Avery smiled politely and nodded. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Fitz. Do you happen to know if Miss Walker might be home?”

The porter nodded, replaced his hat, and turned to open the door for them.

Avery paused before entering. “You didn’t happen to see Miss LaRosa leave that night, did you?”