Page 74 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Magic & Murder (The Hemlock Saga #1)

Avery

Avery knew she didn’t need Saga with her on interviews. It had, of course, been nice to have someone there, someone to help dissect the events and collaborate on ideas with, but she had worked alone—she used to think she worked best alone.

No. She still thought that. She was just rusty was all. Two hundred years out of practice would do that to anyone, but eventually, she would hit her stride again.

Yet despite feeling very confident about this inevitability, Avery could not shake the unmistakable pang of disappointment. She wanted Saga to be there, just as she had wanted to tell her earlier that morning what Reza had found out about Eira’s will.

It was no good. It wasn’t right. If anything, it was downright dangerous feeling this way about someone.

For starters, Saga was helping because she was directly involved with this case. She had a strong emotional investment to get to the bottom of everything. A fact, Avery had to concede, that would have normally been reason enough for her to insist that someone stayed far away from her case.

Why was this different? What had changed?

The only logical conclusion she could draw was herself. She had changed. Or perhaps through an onslaught of endless nightmares and fear, she had been changed.

Avery frowned as she considered for the first time that it was possible after this was over, Saga would simply be her neighbor once more. Was she more upset by the idea that Saga wouldn’t wish to continue working together, or that she herself felt so strongly about it?

She stewed over this, shifting back and forth between anger at herself and what she could only identify as “irritatingly human angst.”

It must have given her a certain threatening authoritative air, because the porter didn’t even try to question her as she passed, merely opened the door.

The concierge at the front desk didn’t notice her as she walked toward the elevator.

Unlike Elis’s building, this was less opulent in its design, but it did feel more “modern,” utilizing primarily dark wood, glass, and steel, which was broken up by hanging interior gardens. She checked the address, entered the elevator, and pressed the button for the second floor.

Saga seemed to enjoy Avery’s company. Perhaps that was reason enough for her to at least weigh in on future cases.

Avery scuffed the toe of her boot against the hardwood floor absently.

Why did she feel like such a child about this?

Why did it feel like it mattered so much?

Even when the Irregulars were around, they were a group she could bring cases to as needed—as a group.

Individually each of them would occasionally weigh in, but it was never a matter of them working with her side by side the entire time.

Her hands balled into fists and relaxed again. There would be time later to deal with all of this. Or, if she was very lucky, by the time she had wrapped up the case, these feelings would no longer be relevant.

She stalked down the hallway to 201 and knocked, perhaps a little too forcefully. She took a deep breath. Calm. Collected. This was not the place or time to be brooding over something that first, made no sense to brood about—but second, had yet to even happen.

The door opened revealing the same golden-haired boy she’d met at the funeral.

His face went through a few expressions; concern intermixed with confusion until recognition struck and melted into an overconfident smirk.

“Well, hello again…” His confidence wavered as it became obvious he had forgotten Avery’s name. “Miss…?”

Avery retrieved the glamoured notebook from her breast pocket, flashing the illusion of a badge from Scotland Yard. “Detective Inspector Avery Hemlock.”

The smirk vanished, his mouth forming a small “o” shape in surprise. “Oh. That’s right.” He cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, suddenly looking far more like the boy he was. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just need to ask you a few routine questions.”

Confusion again. “About what?”

“Murder,” said Avery in a tone that she realized was perhaps too casual, because his face immediately drained of color.

“M-murder?!” Benjamin squeaked.

“May I come in?” Avery asked. “Unless of course, you’d like your neighbors to hear this. Though, I do suppose that would make you the talk of the building.”

Benjamin shook his head and stepped aside, gesturing a little too frantically. “No, no, come in, please.” He closed the door behind Avery and gripped his collarbone nervously. “What murder? Who was murdered? When? Why?”

Avery blinked at him in a way that would have made Riddle proud. “Were you acquainted with Alistair Campbell?”

“The doctor was murdered?!” Benjamin’s voice ran up nearly an entire octave.

Avery couldn’t tell if this was how this man genuinely expressed himself or if this was theatrics for show. “Please answer the question.”

Benjamin swallowed and smoothed the front of his shirt with his palms, then ran his fingers through his hair in a self-soothing gesture. “Yes, of course I knew him. Doctor Campbell not only had been in charge of Eira’s primary care even before we met, he was an old friend of the family.”

“Have you ever been to his home?”

“No?”

“You’re not sure?”

“No, I’ve never been, I’m just not sure why you’re asking me this.”

Avery walked a few paces inside to what appeared to be a balcony rail.

She raised her eyebrows, looking down at the floor below, where a sitting room was nestled along with the kitchen and at least two other rooms. She surveyed either side of her and noted a bathroom and what she presumed was a bedroom. “Do you mind if I look around?”

“I guess—it’s not really the cleanest right now,” said Benjamin.

“I promise to not pass judgment so long as it’s just clutter and not something more nefarious,” clipped Avery, opening the closed door.

Sure enough, a bedroom. The primary bedroom by the looks of it.

Large, in a bit of disarray with the sheets and comforter askew and half on the floor along with a lot of articles of clothing.

“Nefarious?” Benjamin echoed, following her in. “What exactly do you mean by nefarious?”

Avery opened a few dresser drawers and scanned through them. “Can you account for your whereabouts on Sunday?” She peeked into the attached bathroom. That was pristine white.

“Is that when he died?” Benjamin’s eyes widened. “Am I a suspect?”

“Routine questioning,” Avery reminded him, walking past him to look into the half-bath across the entryway.

There was something about this place that felt oddly devoid of something.

Like an energy was missing. That was when she noticed that, unlike the lobby, there was absolutely no greenery to be found in the apartment.

It felt cold, metallic. Perhaps that was what Carys meant by drafty.

“However, the longer you avoid answering those routine questions, the more suspicious you look to me. I will ask again, where were you Sunday night?”

“After the funeral service, I skipped out. When everyone else went to dinner, I went to a club in Soho.”

Avery scrutinized him. “Can anyone corroborate that?”

“Sure, but hell if I know his name,” shrugged Benjamin. “I don’t know if he even told it to me.”

Avery nodded, noting that unlike before Benjamin was not bragging about this fact. He looked shaken, out of sorts. She walked down the winding staircase to the floor below. “Numbing the pain, were you?” she called over her shoulder.

“We all deal with grief in our own way.” Benjamin sounded more defensive than before.

Avery hmmed and wandered into the kitchen. Upon locating the freezer and fridge she peered inside. Nothing. Barely any food. Takeout boxes mainly. She poked a few of them open, but finding nothing that even resembled organs, she closed everything back up. “Do you live here alone?”

“Yes.”

“You keep a rather clean house.”

“Oh… Well, there is a maid on retainer, she comes in Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

Avery hmmed again.

“What are you looking for exactly?”

Avery ignored his question and asked another of her own. “What was the exact nature of your relationship with Eira Goff?”

“I told you—”

“Yes, the details of what you told me are burned vividly into my memory. What I’m uncertain of, however, is the truth behind them.”

Benjamin gasped softly and Avery wondered if she should have stated her doubt more gently. “Why would I lie about that?”

“That would indeed be the question, wouldn’t it?

Why would anyone lie about that, especially so graphically?

” Avery stopped and chided herself mentally.

Saga would have been far more tactful. She would have been more patient.

Even if she hadn’t asked the question herself, Avery knew with Saga near she might have borne the objective to be delicate more in mind.

She was letting her foul mood seep into her investigation.

That was dangerous. She took a deep breath and retrieved the hagstone.

Now she’d have to repair the damage she made.

“Forgive me, it has been a hard couple of days.”

“For both of us, it would seem,” Benjamin reminded her.

Avery bobbed her head thoughtfully. She donned the hagstone, perching it between her brow and cheek. “Could you be so kind as to look up for me?”

Benjamin blinked at her, bewildered. He tilted his head to look up at the ceiling.

“Sorry,” Avery apologized. “Chin down, eyes up,” she clarified.

“Sure?” Benjamin did as he was instructed.

Avery closed the distance between them and examined his eyes very carefully. There was no glamour, that she could tell right away.

“What is that?”