Page 47 of Dead and Gone

"Alone," puts in Grayson hastily. "We don't all need to meet with your father, right?"

"Yes. Alone."

Grayson's fearful expression softens. "Okay. Good."

"I'm suspicious whether all the other gems the curator sold were ordinary. Imagine how much money these people would make from selling magical artifacts if theydidknow," says Rowan.

"True. There's an underground market," puts in Leif.

"Oh?" I straighten. "Whereabouts? Caves? We could visit—Holly likes markets."

Holly blinks. "Not that type of market. Or actually located underground."

Leif laughs and flicks my nose. "Secret transactions. Illegal sales."

"I bet people from the Historical Society have access to the display cabinets—including books. Some might contain spells. I've persuaded the curator to let me look through the ones he locked away," replies Rowan.

I smile. "Yes. The museum holds knowledge that I wouldn't want to lose access to."

Holly slants her head. "Is that the reason you were nice to the curator?"

"Nice?"

"By not reporting his theft to the police," she replies in hushed tones.

"Gray area." I sip from my coffee cup. "Who did the items belong to? Themuseum. The families donated the jewelry and mole, therefore Little Wittering museum technically owns them. I doubt the family would see things that way, but it's true."

"But still… selling exhibits is wrong," she says. "How would the donating families feel if they knew Mr. Wright profited from their heirlooms?"

"That's what concerned him when the mole disappeared. There was a chance someone would discover," says Grayson.

"Violet is right, though", says Rowan. "Legally, the curator can do what he wants on behalf of the museum. Morally, no."

"Yes, but I don't believe we've uncovered all secrets from the town's magical and supernatural past. Mr. Wright and his museum have access to items and texts not held elsewhere—this includes the mysterious omission of Arthur Redridge from the history books. Therefore, I am willing to stray into a morally gray area to maintain my good standing with the curator."

Leif splutters crumbs across the table. "Good standing? He hates supes."

I scowl. "I found his mole."

"There's more to this than a single amateur witch, Leif," says Rowan. "There're other secrets to uncover."

Exactly. The murders and necromancy may've created conspicuous crimes for me to solve, but what of the town's quieter mysteries? Business mogul Christopher Sawyer dominates the town and holds obvious supernatural links, but what other activities slip beneath the radar? Do the modern-day council have secrets? Witch links?

"I rather enjoyed investigating a crime that didn't include a suspicious death," I add.

"What? I thought you'd be disappointed we didn't need to visit the morgue and remove body parts." Rowan gasps.

I narrow my eyes, attempting to detect sarcasm or seriousness. "No. Because I escaped any blame for a new murder."

"I'm glad that nobody died," whispers Holly.

"This time," I say and wave a hand. "In the future, we could face worse than Alistair and his weak magic. This whole mystery goes deeper."

"That's what worries me. Don't go looking for mysteries to solve. There're enough problems in the town and academy without digging up more."

I meet her eyes and she sighs. Holly knows full well that she’s asking the impossible.

“I would like to offer my thanks to you all for your help and patience with the investigations,” I say them.

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