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Naturally, I was eager to see a sample of that moss. But it had been days since The Hermit’s last appearance, apparently, and there were no scraps left to be found and tested. Doug said most of his neighbor’s buyers were merchants traveling through, folks who bought wares and were long gone—another dead end. I smothered my disappointment with more candied cashews.
We chatted a little longer with Doug, and he confirmed something else Officer Thorn had teased me about—that “The Hermit” avoided not only the local police, but the local alchemist, as well. If either Thorn or I made an appearance in the market, Doug said, his reclusive table mate would immediately whisk up her wares and be gone.
It was a startling image, and one I was still thinking over as Thorn and I moved aside to chat. “I can see why someone might have that reaction to me these days,” I admitted, casting a glance askance at her. “What with the local police besmirching my reputation as an impartial shopkeeper. But why would she have avoided me in the early days?”
“And for that matter, why avoid the local police,” Thorn added. She was firm in her belief that every police officer across Beyond must be a credit to their Guild. “It wasn’t until this year that a complaint was made against her.”
“That you know of,” I pointed out.
“Exactly.” She inclined her head. “Then there’s the way Doug described it. Almost like a magic vanishing act.”
“It certainly speaks of desperation,” I agreed. “And if The Hermit is Vesper, then I can see why she’d be eager not to talk to the police. But I still don’t see what I have to do with it.”
“The description matches our victim, but we need more. Preferably someone who can link the two names together,” Officer Thorn said.
I frowned, pulling my cloak tighter against another gust of wind. “The whole point of using a dramatic pseudonym was probably to obscure her original name. Which some people think wasn’t even her real one to begin with.”
“Some people?” Officer Thorn lifted her head, distracted.
“Luca’s been reading cold case reports,” I explained. “There’s not a lot about the kidnapping, but there is a little.”
“I’ll add him to the list to visit,” Officer Thorn said, pulling out her notebook. “And we may end up bringing Doug into the station to identify the body. But I’d still like to get some corroboration. Wait here a moment, and then we’ll move on.”
She turned back to Doug’s stall briefly, and in snatches, I could hear her asking Doug when he was done for the day and if anyone else had run-ins with The Hermit. If anything, the market was busier and louder than before. No one was paying us any mind; so far, Thorn’s wish to be discreet had been successful.
And then I saw Dusty cutting through the crowd toward me.
“Morning, Red!” he called cheerfully, waving with a hand clenched around a bag of his own homemade trail mix.
“Morning,” I chuckled, waving with my own paper cone of nuts. “Did you come looking for a snack, only to decide you’ve already got a better one?”
“Not here for myself,” Dusty corrected, though his eyes crinkled in a smile as he looked up at me. “’M showing Keith around. It’s his first day.”
“Keith?” I looked up curiously to see a stranger emerge from the crowd. Keith wore a long, embroidered traveling cloak and an optimistic smile. He was a little taller than me, his frame so thin and wiry that it seemed like the wind just whipped right around him, passing him by. His deep brown hair had been pulled into a low ponytail, and his eyes were a matching dark, dark brown. He had dark brown skin, too, and pointed ears, and immediately I couldn’t help but think of Luca’s findings about another forest elf—Kieran, a possible member of the Drus.
While Dusty introduced me, I struggled to get a hold of myself.
“Good to meet you,” Keith said, in a rough-edged but friendly voice.
I nodded, smiled, and downed the rest of my cashews in an effort not to say something about his heritage. It was hardly appropriate marketplace talk.
“Keith’s related to the boy who came down from the mountain,” said Dusty.
Thank goodness for Dusty. With my immediate question answered—if a bit abruptly—I could relax. “Really? Did Lavender reach out to you?”
“That’s it,” Keith agreed companionably. “Got her message yesterday afternoon. Lucky I happened to be in the area. I’m a bit of a drifter these days. Never had the heart to come back before, though,” he added, glancing at the market, the peaked roofs beyond, and then the mountain itself. His expression was very readable. It said, this place has changed more than I thought.
I knew the feeling of returning home with unresolved issues. “It has to be tough. But no one knows the town better than Dusty these days. You’re certainly in good hands.”
“That’s what Lavender said,” Keith said, smiling down at the gnome.
Dusty tucked away his trail mix, and as he looked up at me, his gaze slid over to Officer Thorn’s back. “You folks on the case?”
“Something like that,” I agreed, cautiously. Unable to help myself, I asked more quietly, “Have you been to see Jack? Purslane?”
“Not yet,” Keith answered, stepping closer, so we formed a little circle. “Poor boy wouldn’t know me anyway. I was there for his parents’ wedding, and then I was on a job at a gardening outfit in Pine until—”
“I didn’t mean to pry,” I said hastily, when his low voice became choked with emotion.
“Don’t worry yourself,” he said, shaking his head. “There’s no helping it. I’d meant to come back sooner. I didn’t know I wouldn’t have time. How could I?”
“Kieran was his brother,” Dusty told me confidentially. I accepted this without wondering how suddenly Dusty knew the names of every player in the old story.
Player—and yet, Keith was playing no role, that was certain. Tears came away on his sleeve as he wiped his face. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to bring painful things up.”
“It happens just by walking around this town,” Keith told me ruefully. “But like you said, I’m lucky to have Dusty.”
“And on that note, we better keep moving,” Dusty said. He let Keith say a hasty goodbye as he ushered him away, and in a second I realized why. Officer Thorn was done talking to Doug.
“What’s he up to now?” she asked over my shoulder, eyeing Dusty’s retreating back.
“I see you two still have some patching up to do,” I teased. “Did Doug have anything more to say?”
“I gave him a look at the coin,” Thorn said, “just a thought of mine. Turns out he noticed something Bull didn’t. Just like you thought, it’s an old version—archaic, he called it.”
“Odd that the grocer himself didn’t notice that,” I said, thoughtfully.
“Odd, or just unhelpful as usual,” Thorn said. “So what is Dusty doing? Didn’t look like handy work.”
I shook my head. “He’s showing around Keith, who is apparently Jack’s uncle. Sounds like he was in and out of Belville a lot, back in the day, and just came back now because Lavender reached out to him. But it made me think—why don’t you just ask Lavender to identify the body?”
“Not good practice,” Thorn said, steering me toward the next row of stalls. “I want a third party.”
I paused, refusing to be steered further. “Meaning—?”
“Exactly what you think,” she confirmed. “Aside from Jack himself, who has a pretty good alibi so far, Lavender’s the most obvious suspect.”
* * *
While Officer Thorn singled out a few merchants based on Doug’s recommendation, I played “clean up” and checked with the rest of the market regulars, just in case anyone had anything to say. It was a little easier now that I knew what stall to ask about—though I was careful to ask if they’d noticed anyone else missing, too. It never hurt to cover every angle. Most of my alchemical training had been one repeated lesson of don’t count on outcomes before you’ve done the experiment.
Most people had no new information to offer, and by the end of the next row, I was dying for something warm to drink. Even though it wasn’t raining, the threat of an incoming storm was now present in the air, like the town had been possessed by a huge, damp ghost. When someone yelled my name I jumped, squelching in the mud around the stalls.
“Red,” Marguerite repeated, coming over from the grocer’s stand. “How nice to see you!”
Though the sentiment was much like what Keith had said earlier, it was much louder—and a little less friendly. Marguerite was serving her second term as Belville’s mayor, though she was a glassblower by occupation. Using her breath to mold glass had gifted her a strong set of lungs, and several years serving the town council had left her with an entirely business-like attitude. Though our paths usually only crossed at the town business association meetings, she always greeted me by name.
“Good morning,” I said, swallowing to stop my teeth from chattering—from surprise as much as from the cold, which was working its way into my bones. “Or is it afternoon?”
“Still morning,” she informed me briskly. Her graying hair was pulled back, as always, in a tight braid, and she wore a buttoned-up pea coat. “How’s the shop?”
“During the breaks in the rain, doing well,” I said honestly. “William and Rhys are looking after it now.”
Marguerite nodded. “It’s the same for most businesses in town.”
“Yes, I imagine so.” I peered at her, wondering why she wanted to chat. “Did you come out to check on the market before the storm?”
“I try to come by once a day,” she told me. “I make a lap of town.”
“Oh.” I blinked; I had no complaints about Marguerite as a mayor, but I hadn’t realized how deep her devotion to duty extended. “In that case, have you noticed anything unusual lately? Anyone missing, or causing trouble?”
She eyed me keenly. “Helping the police? I saw Officer Thorn talking to the Jonskid’s Potato farmers just now.”
“Well—Olivia’s busy looking after Jack; I suppose you heard about all that?” I offered, hesitantly.
“Yes, I got the latest update this morning,” Marguerite said, her voice shrewd. “Tell Officer Thorn to let me know if she needs help from the council. But at the moment, I can’t think of anything to tell you. It’s been business as usual here. Although—”
She stopped, looking at me with her head to one side. I shifted awkwardly. “What is it?”
“The storms bring out all kinds of people,” she said eventually, carefully. “I noticed Luca came by a few days ago, with Sakura in tow. I thought you did most of his shopping these days?”
“I do, for vegetables at least,” I admitted, my face flushing. Luca could add sums and categorize books in no time flat but he wouldn’t know a ripe tomato from a seedling, so we’d long ago divided up our household chores. But did the mayor care? Was she trying to get gossip out of me? Or was this somehow relevant? “Did they, uh, say anything to you?”
“Not a thing,” said Marguerite. “I thought they seemed preoccupied.”
And with that utterly unhelpful thought, she gave me a little bow of the head and continued on her way.