Page 71 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

Merritt nodded. “And where can I find him?”

There wasn’t a coroner in Marshfield, apparently, but there was one in Plymouth. After receiving some quick instructions, Merritt thanked the man and stepped out of the sawmill.

When he hopped on a wagon headed toward Plymouth, he asked for permission first.

Hulda struggled more than ever to focus on her work, and she didn’t feel the slightest pull of a hysterian’s magic.

Stanley Lidgett. Why else would he have a communion stone connecting him to Silas Hogwood if he wasn’t part of it? He could not feign ignorance anymore. Not after Silas’s arrest and conviction.

Shuddering, Hulda pulled her cardinal shawl closer around her as she trudged back to BIKER, having just made another trip to the Genealogical Society for the Advancement of Magic at Mr.Walker’srequest. Her mind wound down an unnecessary road, imagining what might have been had Mr.Lidgett returned her affections all those years ago, only for her to discover he was an accomplice to murder ... or, at the very least, far too forgiving of homicidal malefactors. What if she’d married the man?

Let it go.She had enough anxieties to sort through without adding morbid fantasies atop them. Slipping her hand into her bag, she pushed past the file she’d collected for Walker—a record of the past owners of an enchanted abode in Connecticut Myra had overseen three years ago—to the communion stone connected to Merritt. There was no point in it. He couldn’t leave a message for her to listen to later, and she’d strictly forbidden herself from checking on him during the day for fear of greater distraction. He’d been just fine when he’d arrived in Marshfield this morning. He’d reach out to her when he had information.

Jerking her hand free, Hulda forced her thoughts to the world around her. She nodded as she stepped around a young woman pulling a wagon of eggs and one caged chicken, then dodged a pile of horse dung in the road. The day was overcast, creating a chill that nipped at her nose and ears. Her strides were quick and long, in part to keep her warm, and in part because she was past due to record any changes in her carefully placed azurite.

“Hulda?” she heard. Turning, she studied the street but spied no one waving to her. When a voice called, “Hulda, are you there?” again, she realized it was coming from her bag. Retrieving her selenite communion stone, she pressed the rune on it and asked, “Merritt?” Then continued walking.

“I’m relatively sure our man is dead.”

Her stomach tightened as if trying to hold her heart in place. “You found him?”

“I ... believe so. I can’t be sure. It’s strange, Hulda. Are you in a private place?”

She looked about her. Not private, no, but noisy enough not to be overheard. “Speak carefully,” she replied.

“The constable at the time up and left. Very suddenly. Out of state. Another watchman apparently vanished, and the one I spoke to said a woman got him drunk as a sailor, so his memory of the night is blurry.”

“A woman,” Hulda repeated, careful.

“Our woman, I’m sure,” Merritt’s voice crackled through the enchantment. “But there was record of a dead body, and another record of a body being delivered to the Plymouth coroner October 17. It was cremated.”

Hulda’s stride slowed. “Cremated? Are you sure?”

“That’s all I have. No name, no identification. No one claimed him, so they cremated him.” A pause. “I don’t know who else it would be.”

Hulda mulled over this long enough for Merritt to repeat her name.

“I’m here,” she murmured, turning the corner and seeing the Bright Bay Hotel down the street. “Did they preserve the ashes?”

“I ... don’t know. I can ask. I’m not too far out.”

“The records—”

“Didn’t say. He let me see them. There’s nothing else there that I haven’t told you.”

Hulda hummed deep in her throat. “Perhaps—”

Another woman, tightly bundled in winter clothes, bumped into her just then, shoulders colliding hard enough that Hulda nearly dropped the stone. Stumbling, she righted herself, then glared after the woman, who hadn’t so much as offered an apology. She continued on her way, a little hunched over. Probably old, but with a strong walk, nonetheless. Shaking it off, Hulda said, “Well, that’s the end of that well.” She would take comfort in it. She had to. Silas was dead, and Mr.Lidgett was none of her concern.

“Seems to be.”

“I’m nearly to BIKER,” she added. “I’d rather not discuss any more while I’m there. Do travel safe, Merritt.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

Hulda rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile, regardless.

No more sound emitted from the stone, so she slipped it back into her bag and stepped into BIKER’s headquarters.

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