Page 53 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

Avery shook her head. “No, they’d only just gotten their charter, but I admired their ambition. Secular education. It was bold, and a lot of people hated the idea.” The smile that crept across her face felt almost wicked. “It has done well for itself?”

“It’s an excellent school,” Lahiri confirmed. “Both my wife and I are graduates, met on campus.” He spoke with such a pride and warmth that he looked out of place in the disheveled home. He pointed to the bare walls and gestured to the paintings and framed photos that had been thrown to the floor. “I think our killer may have been searching for a safe.”

“No.” If that had been the case, there would be far less mess. The culprit had been looking everywhere.

“No?” Lahiri echoed, exasperated and expecting her to elaborate.

“Forgive me, that was rude, wasn’t it?” Avery took a moment to organize the collection of evidence before her into actual sentences. “Whatever they were looking for was undoubtedly something valuable, perhaps even something worth keeping in a safe, but likely nothing that would absolutely need to be. They didn’t just knock off paintings, they were searching drawers, display shelves. There are only so many places one may hide a safe.”

Saga chimed in from where she was sifting through framed photographs. “So…whatever it was might have been valuable, but you might not know it when you look at it?”

“Exactly.” Avery moved to join her. “Have you found anything?”

“Maybe,” Saga hedged. “How old was the victim?”

“Forty-one,” Lahiri answered.

Saga showed the frames in her hands to Avery. One was from graduation and had likely sat next to the bear she’d found, a young Betsey smiling with her diploma on display. Another was Betsey and another girl her age at the beach. The other girl also had dark hair but sported a far more serious expression than her friend, who playfully made a face at the camera. There was another candid shot from campus where Betsey was in focus but behind her were two others with their backs to the camera wearing big floppy hats. There was also a photo of Betsey alone from around the same time. “If this is her, she looks like she’s in her twenties in all of these.”

“Maybe she didn’t like that she was getting older,” Avery offered.

“To not have a single recent photo?” asked Saga doubtfully. “Feels more like living in the past.”

Lahiri held up a framed magazine article that contained a more recent author photo. “This one is from only a year ago. Someone submitted a story about her work as a medium.” His face scrunched as he read. “It is suspiciously glowing.”

Avery chuffed. “Were you expecting something insulting to be framed on her wall?”

“I expect articles to be a tad more grounded when covering a woman whose work involves under-the-table tricks,” said Lahiri, putting the frame down.

“I’m going to check the bedroom.” Avery inclined her head for Saga to join her. Continuing the conversation about Luna’s fraudulent practices without evidence that they were implicated in the motive for the murder would only muddy her brain. She stepped into the bathroom along the way, which was untouched. Whatever they were looking for would not have been kept in the bathroom. Not surprising, but data nonetheless.

The hall closet had had linens pulled out, but after a quick glance, she determined there was nothing of value to be found there either.

“What might they have even been looking for?” Saga asked. “What’s valuable but not at a glance and worth killing for?”

“A good question, but unfortunately too broad to answer at this time.” Avery stopped at the threshold of the bedroom. “But I do believe they found it.”

The bedroom was curious, as the chaos seemed directly split down the middle, stopping at the bed itself. The closet was torn apart, and a few items had been pulled from underneath the bed on the side closest to the door, but the other side was pristine and untouched.

Whatever they had been looking for had been found here.

Avery dropped to the floor, peering under the bed. A few boxes had been pulled out, all of which contained clothing or shoes that were more seasonally appropriate for the summer months or a warmer climate. But as she pushed them all back into their places, where they fit rather neatly like puzzle pieces, she noticed a void in the pattern. Look.” She pointed for Saga.

The woman joined her, lying on her stomach to properly see what she was meant to. “Looks about the size of a shoebox.”

Avery dug her phone out of her coat to take a photograph. She looked to Saga. “What are your thoughts?”

“I guess that depends. Do we know which came first?”

“The egg. Trust me.”

Saga gently knocked Avery’s leg with the heel of her boot. “Do we know if she was killed first and robbed after? Or could they have stolen something and then killed her?”

“An excellent question, my dear Trygg. We will need to establish a timeline. The coroner will be able to give us a more precise time of death and, fate willing, narrow down the method by which poor Ms. Ravenwood met her end.”

“We should get one of those boards,” Saga insisted in an excited whisper.

“What boards?”