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

A few moments later, footsteps clicked inside, then the door swung open and a maid with dark hair all dressed in black blinked at us. “Officers!”

Peter bowed his head in greeting. “Good evening. We’d like to have a word with the Harringtons.”

A few minutes later, the maid showed us into the family gathering room—an imposing, sober space. A shield emblazoned with a black bat decorated the dark, wood paneled wall above the stone fireplace. The orange flames cast flickering shadows across the dimly lit room.

Mr. Harrington sat in a wingback chair near the fire, a leather-bound book in hand, while Chaz lay out on a chaise lounge, his hand thrown over his forehead in a dramatic pose of mourning. Mrs. Harrington sat on a plush, tufted sofa, her ankles crossed on a stool. The maid bowed her head, then hovered near the door.

Mr. Harrington slid a leather bookmark into the book, then closed it in his lap and looked up at us, half his face in shadow. “Please, come in.” The words were pleasant enough, but the grim set of his mouth conveyed very little pleasure at seeing us.

Peter gestured at the sofa across from Mrs. Harrington. “May we?”

The blond arched a brow at Daisy as we crossed in front of the fireplace and sat across from her. I settled onto the plush sofa and couldn’t help but compare it to my own threadbare one. I had to lie on that just to avoid being poked by the springs, but this thing felt like it was made of clouds and butter. I settled in, a satisfied grin on my face. I took a deep breath—the place smelled of cedar, fire and—I smirked—privilege.

Mr. Harrington angled himself toward us, his back to the fire and features in shadow. “How may we help you, Officer? Have there been any developments in Letty’s case?”

Mrs. Harrington scoffed. “Her case? Please, Teddy, the girl killed herself in one of our guest rooms. The sooner we put this behind us, the better.” She glared at Peter, her nostrils flared. “Tell me this is over.”

Peter shifted in his seat and looked between the husband and wife. “Actually, we wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Still slumped back on the comfortable sofa, I lifted a finger. “First, where can I get a couch like this?”

Mrs. Harrington rolled her eyes. “It’s custom.”

“Of course it is.” I nodded. “Second, did anyone find Letty’s anti-allergy potions? It would have been in a vial or a syringe.”

A muscle jumped in Mrs. Harrington’s jaw, but she kept her lips pressed tight together and crossed her arms.

Beside the door though, the maid choked.

Peter, Daisy, and I snapped our gazes to her.

Mr. Harrington, with his dignified gray hair and deep voice, addressed her. “May, did you find something?”

She darted an uneasy glance at Mrs. Harrington, then looked down at her feet. “I—I found something in one of the trash bins after the wedding, when I was helping clean up.”

“What?” Peter scooted forward and perched on the edge of the couch. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He looked at me, then back to the maid. “I thought our department bagged everything up.”

Mrs. Harrington snorted.

I glanced to my left at Chaz and caught him peeking out from under his hand. He caught me staring and immediately covered his eyes again and went back to being devastated. I frowned at him. Were the dramatics an indication of his guilt, or just a normal part of being a politician?

May wrung her hands in front of her. “I was nervous, not used to just standing around.” She shrugged. “I wanted to help tidy up—to do something to take my mind off Miss Jones.” She bit her lip and darted another glance at the back of Mrs. Harrington’s head. “And I did tell someone.” Her throat bobbed. “I gave the syringe to Mrs. Harrington.”

Peter and I exchanged looks. I’d told him Letty should have had a syringe of her anti-allergy potion nearby. We both turned to stare down Mrs. Harrington on the sofa across from us.

“What?” She bared her teeth at Peter, then huffed and flipped her blond locks over her shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell the police?” Peter’s face turned an alarmingly blotchy shade of red.

She sniffed. “I didn’t want rumors flying around about it.”

“You—rumors?” Peter spluttered and leapt to his feet. “I should arrest you for that.” He raised his brows. “How about the rumors that that would start?”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Gah!” Peter jolted, and Daisy barked. Who’s there?!

A short, balding man rose from the corner of the room farthest from the fireplace. He came forward out of the shadows. “Apologies for startling you. I’m the Harringtons’ lawyer and family friend.”

Mrs. Harrington cast him a simpering smile.

He placed a hand on the back of Chaz’s chaise. “I wouldn’t expect a low-level officer like yourself to know this, but the Harringtons are big donors to the police department.” He shot Peter a toothy smile, though it contained no humor.

“I’d have to have some strong words with your inspector if you arrested Marcy, here.” He gestured toward Mrs. Harrington, who winked at him, then glared at Peter.

I tugged on Peter’s sleeve, and he shot a blazing look down at me. I raised my brows at him, and he blew out a breath, his expression softening. He cleared his throat and addressed Mrs. Harrington. “Fine. Give me the syringe. We’ll give it to the lab to be tested and fingerprinted and will ignore this—mistake—this time.”

The blond slightly turned her head and called back to the maid behind her. “May, be a dear and go fetch that syringe for the officer.”

The maid bowed her head and hurried out the door.

Peter tugged at his uniform jacket before settling onto the couch beside me again. I gave him an encouraging nod. I mean, I wanted to throttle these people as much as the next person—and to steal their