“You’re smiling just talking about him. He must be a good one.”
“He really is. I can tell you more about him, if you’d like.”
“I would.” She smiles up at me as I sit down. “But I’m more curious to know why you’re here. I’ve never seen you before. I’d remember. My hair was red like yours once upon a time.” She reaches up, touching her wispy gray hair.
“I did come here with a mission,” I say honestly. “I’ve been helping Keith with the renovations of the big old house I believe you used to live in.”
“Ahh. He did ask me about it. What do you want to know, dear?”
“There’s a shed in the backyard, but we think it might have been used as a cottage or cabin years ago. Do you happen to remember who would have lived there?”
“There was a groundskeeper. Older gentleman who liked to garden. His name…Stuart, I believe. Yes, that was his name. He’d get angry if you called him Stu.”
“He worked the grounds when the two women were murdered?”
“Yes,” she says after a moment’s consideration. “He did.”
“Was he a suspect?”
“If he’d been in town I would say most definitely,” Bernice says. “He was an imposing fellow. Gave me the creeps.”
“You don’t happen to remember why he was out of town, do you?” I ask.
“Oh yeah.” She nods. “He’d won some sort of award at a horticulture club and was invited to a weekend event in Michigan, I believe. I remember the award because he used that as another excuse for yelling at the kids messing near his prize winning garden. He died of a heart attack only three years later. I can only assume all that anger finally got to him.”
“Probably had high blood pressure,” I say, thinking it’s not out of the question to murder someone here and then make it to Michigan the next day…depending on where in Michigan the event was held. We’re close to the state line and slipping away from something like that would be easy at night.
“Those poor girls.” Bernice shudders. “No one deserves to go out like that.”
“No, they don’t. Thank you so much for answering my questions. I hope it wasn’t too traumatic to bring up the past like that.”
“It wasn’t. I think about them from time to time. I hope they’re at peace.”
“Me too.”
I end up staying for another half hour, visiting with Bernice, leaving when it’s time for her to go to lunch. I check in with Ethan on my way to the Covenstead and then pocket my phone, walking with Hunter through the woods. I say the spell to open the door, carefully pricking a finger with a pin to use my blood as the key to get in. Hunter and I step through and the door closes behind us.
The students at Grim Gate have left for summer break and the courtyard isn’t nearly as busy as usual. I look around, taking it all in. The Covenstead is a hidden dimension and only those worked into the protection spell are allowed entrance.
Now that my memories of coming here as a kid are back, this place feels all the more special to me. It offered me a sense of safety and belonging back then, and it still holds the same feeling today. I head into the library, hoping to run into Ruby or Devon, the two people from the coven I’ve befriended most.
“Ahh, Miss Benson,” someone says as the large double doors shut behind me. I look around, unable to see anyone behind the rows of large shelves. The academy library is absolutely wonderful. It’s two stories tall with books on every magical subject I can think of available to read—as well as a large restricted section of books on dark or dangerous magic.
“Uh, hi?” I come to a stop, still unable to see anyone. Inhaling the comforting smell of old books and new paper, I take a few more steps into the library and catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A very small older woman comes out from a row of books, using magic to push a cart in front of her. She’s dressed like a professor, and I’d guess her to be the same age as my grandma.
“I knew it was you as soon as I saw that red hair and green eyes.” The woman smiles. “You look just like Estelle.”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling back at her. “I’ve been told.”
“I’m Margret,” she introduces, holding out her hand to shake.
“Anora, but you already know that. Are you a professor here? I’m sorry if we met and I don’t remember.”
“I used to be. I only teach one summer school class a year now.” She taps her temple. “Just to keep my mind sharp. I retired long ago, a year before your great aunt. We both taught different grade levels of divination.”
“Oh, so you probably knew her well?” It’s odd that even with my memories back, Aunt Estelle still feels like a stranger.
“Very well! We were thick as thieves back in the day. She somehow always convinced me to partake in whatever adventure she was embarking on.” Margret laughs. “She was quite a woman, she was.”