While he’s distracted Raziel takes the moment to question me. In a low voice he asks, “So did our ghost give us anymore insight to her death?”

“She has some theories.” I whisper back not wanting to say too much in front of Winnifred’s father.

“Can you tell me…” Mr. Hawthorne pauses, “Can you tell me if Winni’s at peace? Is she happy?”

I turn to him, “Are you at peace?” I throw back at him.

I see him hesitate, but then slowly, “No. I’ve been agitated and angry at about everything. I can’t focus, the only thing I can think about is Winni.”

“When did it start?”

“What?” Mr. Hawthorne quietly adjusts his glasses while staring at me in confusion.

I ask again, “When did you start feeling angry?”

“I don’t…” He trails off as he thinks, “I guess it was a couple months ago. They were showing a clip on the news about Marcus Holt and how he’d be given the lethal injection. I don’t know why it just got me so worked up, it felt wrong. And I guess ever since then I’ve just been restless.” He laughs a little, “You think I would have been happy… The man murdered my baby he deserves to be punished for it, but…”

“Winnifred doesn’t think that Marcus Holt killed her.” And her frustration over the matter is affecting him more than either of them would like to admit.

Mr. Hawthorne’s entire body freezes, “No. No, that can’t be…” He mutters under his breath, “It had to be him. He- he had the gun, he confessed, he was covered in her blood!” The last words come out as a desperate plea like a child about to throw a tantrum. “You’re wrong! It

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was him! He murdered Winni! It had to be him!” I note how Winnifred had said almost those exact same words about her suspect.

“Not according to Winni.” I assert defiantly.

I catch Raziel giving me a sideways look, “Perhaps it’s time we took our leave.” He breaks in. He watches Mr. Hawthorne carefully as he walks around him. “We can show ourselves out.” He adds on quietly as Mr. Hawthorne makes no attempt to acknowledge him. Instead he just stands in the middle of the room muttering to himself.

It’s only when Raziel passes through the door that Mr. Hawthorne turns to us. “It’s my fault.” He whispers quietly. “I’m the one who pushed for the death penalty.”

“Will you tell me what Winnifred said?” Raziel asks impatiently once we are both in the safety of the shop. The afternoon sun filters in through the windows and lights the room in a warm glow.

“She thinks that her killer was being controlled in some capacity via magic. Likely by a man named Jacob Heins.” It’s not a completely outlandish theory in our line of work, but still improbable.

Raziel furrows his brow, “She thinks or she knows? Accusing a human of using magic is not something that can be done lightly.”

I’m glad to see Raziel using some sense, “She’s very sure that it was this man Heins.”

He groans out and runs his hand through his hair, “We’ll have to prove it.” He moans. “I can’t just go to the council on the theories of some dead girl.”

“No, you can’t.” I agree, “Do you want my advice?” 

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Raziel looks up with a blink, “Of course, Henry.”

“Don’t go to the council at all.” He frowns, but I continue, “Go to the guard. After you find the evidence you need to incriminate this man let them take over and wash your hands of the matter. No matter how you look at it if magic was involved than warlocks were too and you need to stay as far away from them as possible.”

Raziel turns and quickly sits down at one of the chairs by his desk with a heavy sigh, “I could go to Aleksander.” He thinks aloud. “He probably hates my guts the least out of everyone in Lemuria and he’s more accessible.”

“So that’s settled.”

He gives me a warning look, “I still have to prove that black magic was used. For all we know that ghost could have just been confused and she’s just making up things to satisfy her unrest.” I nod again. This could also be true. Ghosts are more susceptible to paranoia and delusion than any other creatures. They can easily go insane if they’re not properly taken care of. As if hearing my thoughts Raziel continues, “Case in point, those psychics that Hawthorne was hiring was years ago from when she first died. She’s clearly getting things mixed up, but I’ll make some phone calls and see what I can dig up about this Marcus fellow and Jacob Heins. Why don’t you go back to your coin and rest?”

“Yes. I’ve had my fill of adventures for today.” I agree readily, but stop as I remember something, “Don’t get completely wrapped up in this.” He stares at me, “You still have those potion orders to fill.” I remind him.

He rolls his eyes, “God forbid I forget those.” He says with sarcasm dripping off of every word.