Pet Psychic Mysteries Boxset Books 5-8 (Magic Market Mysteries Book 2) by Erin Johnson (simple ebook reader .txt) 📕

“And if it was suicide, why get married and then off herself at her own wedding? If it was cold feet or something, why go through with it?”

It didn’t feel like suicide to me, in my gut. Letty had been shy and reserved, but if she’d made it out of the Darkmoon to this kind of life, it meant she was also strong and determined. At the very least, she was a sweet, sensitive kid and she didn’t deserve this—no one did. Only, too often deaths in the Darkmoon District didn’t get thorough investigations. I wanted to see justice for Letty.

Peter rose, and I stood as well. He gestured to the vanity. Its drawers stuck out, and one lay on the ground, overturned. The various perfume bottles and jars of makeup and creams had all been knocked over, some smashed on the ground beside the plate and champagne flute.

“It looks like the place was ransacked. Did she do that herself? Was she looking for something? Or did someone else do it between the time she left the room to say her vows and then ran back inside?” Peter let out a heavy sigh and addressed one of the cops magicking the cosmetics into evidence bags. “Smith, can you make sure to have those tested for strawberries and poisons, at least until we confirm the cause of death.”

The young cop nodded.

Peter licked his lips. “Let’s have the champagne tested, the rim of the flute, too, for strawberries or any toxins.” He shook his head and stared down at his shiny black shoes.

I grinned, happy to see they were back to their usual mirror-like polish. A disheveled Jolene? To be expected. I also liked to think I kind of rocked the slightly grungy vibe. But last week’s disheveled Peter had been… unsettling.

“I suppose we should go interview more witnesses.” He sighed. “Not good timing for Daisy to be out of commission.”

I startled. “Out of commission? What the shell happened to her?” While it was no secret that the German shepherd wasn’t my biggest fan, I liked to think we’d made some big strides lately. I’d even gotten a couple of tiny tail wags out of her. And as much as I enjoyed teasing Daisy, it’s not like I wanted anything actually bad to happen to her.

Peter gave a sad grin. “She’ll be okay, but…” He pressed his lips tight together.

I flashed my eyes at him and bounced on my toes. “Out with it, Peter! What happened? Is she going to make it?”

He kept his mouth a grim line and stared down at me. “She’s got… seasonal allergies.”

I shot him a flat look. “Better order the gravestone now.” I threw my head back and let out a noisy exhale. “Snakes, Peter, you had me worried.” I raised my brows. “Seasonal allergies? Really?!”

He nodded gravely. “The Sansea Winds are kicking up a lot of pollen.” He shook his head. “She’s having a really rough time of it.”

“Oh my goddess.” I spun on my heel and Peter followed me out of the room. I lowered my voice as we passed the officers stationed by the door. “I thought she was dying or something!”

“No!” Peter waved his hands. “But she’s really suffering.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure she’ll pull through.”

He quirked his lips to the side, the picture of an overprotective dog dad. “I sure hope so.”

Oh, Peter.

“It’s bad, though.” He shot me a plaintive look. “It’s really messing with her sense of smell.”

I grinned and slowed my quick steps as I headed back toward the door to the lawn. “Wait… like her sense of…?” I shot him a questioning look.

He nodded, brows pulled up in the middle. “She’s having trouble smelling the difference between lies and truths.”

I threw my head back and cackled. “Oh! I’m going to have fun with this!”

3

Mr. and Mrs. Harrington

Once back outside, frantic waving at the edge of the crowd caught my eye. Chief McCray held Daisy’s leash in one hand and pointed at the German shepherd, then beckoned us toward her. She beamed as Peter and I threaded through groups of wedding guests and between round tables.

McCray winked at me from behind her huge, wire-rimmed glasses. “Well, if it isn’t our resident pet psychic.” She slugged Peter’s arm, and he winced. Guess she packed a punch, despite her petite size.

“And Officer Flint!” She threw her arms in the air, and Daisy shot her a side-eye, ears flat, as the action tugged on her leash and pulled the dog to the side.

“The dream team is back together again!” She hastily shoved the leash at Peter. “She’s all yours.”

He frowned. “Did everything go okay?”

“Oh. Yeah.” McCray shoved her hands into her pockets and pursed her lips. “Definitely.” The gusty winds barely touched her short blond hair, the ends flipped around her face. That must be a strong hair potion she used.

The chief brought a hand to the side of her mouth, as if she were sharing a secret. “Things got a little dicey when Daisy decided she had to relieve herself.” She raised her blond brows. “Number two.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed, and I bit back a grin.

McCray thumbed over her shoulder, toward the dense tree line, beaming again. “No worries, though. I’ve got Bon on it.”

I gasped out a laugh. “What? Really?”

She frowned. “Yeah, course. I didn’t have any doggie bags on me, and I’m the chief! I’ve got important police business to attend to.”

I imagined Bon rooting around in the bushes in the dark looking for dog droppings. Welp, my night had been made.

Daisy hung her head, pointy ears still flat, and growled. So undignified. A leash?

I grinned—she had a point. “What’s with the leash?” I’d never seen her at the end of one before.

McCray raised her brows at Daisy and shifted to a baby voice. “We certainly didn’t want to wear a collar and leash, now did we? But we kept running after Peter, so mean Aunty Kit had to put a leash on us.” She chuckled and addressed Peter