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

“Now there’s the way to do it.”

Startled, I looked up and found Peter reading Sam’s profile over my shoulder. I shot him a puzzled look, and he blushed. He lifted a palm. “I just mean, this Snakeman fellow is abiding by the rule of law and working with the system to change things.”

I frowned. “Versus?”

His throat bobbed. “Versus…” He squared his shoulders. “Versus being subversive and operating outside the law and outside society. How are shifters supposed to integrate if they all want to do things their own way, have their own code and hierarchy?”

My neck and chest grew hot and I bit back a retort, willing myself to take a few deep breaths. “It’s different for Sam. He’s not like other shifters.”

It said right there in the article. He hadn’t been raised with Ludolf lording over him—he hadn’t even been raised human at all, unlike the rest of us. Which maybe gave him a chance now to speak out in a way most of us couldn’t. I huffed. “It’s unfair to assume we should, or could, all be doing that.” I raised my brows at Peter. “You don’t have all the information.”

He huffed. “Yeah… because no one will give it to me.”

We sat in tense silence, the lute music floating through the elegant space. I bit the inside of my cheek. I hated this—just when Peter and I seemed to be settling back into our playful dynamic, this issue around what I was came between us.

Daisy turned and laid her huge head on Peter’s thigh and whined. Fighting again? What’s new with you two.

Peter sighed and patted the table. “In any case, if Rachel knew Letty was a shifter, the private investigator the Harringtons hired had to have discovered this.”

I nodded. “True. Which makes me wonder what he and Mr. Harrington were really arguing about the other day.”

Peter rose. “We need to go talk to the Harringtons again.”

Daisy’s tail wagged as we headed for the exit. Finally—I can get out of this ridiculous jacket.

I whined back at her. The jacket was covered in tawny hairs. You can take the jacket off the dog, but can you get the dog off the jacket?

She glared up at me.

18

Cybil

Peter, Daisy, and I made our way back into the country club’s lobby, and freedom from my oversized tweed cage was in sight, when a petite woman suddenly stepped out from behind a potted tree and I ran right into her. She stumbled back and I grimaced. “Sorry!”

She huffed, smoothed her button-up shirt and pencil skirt, then looked up.

Surprise washed over me. “Cybil?”

Her pert expression turned to shock as she took in Peter, Daisy, and me. “Oh. What are you all doing here?”

I arched a brow. “We could ask you the same thing.”

She frowned at my enormous borrowed sports coat. “And what are you wearing?”

I waved a hand. “Off topic.” We weren’t planning on seeing her here, but now that we’d literally run into her, I figured we should question her about the piece in La Mer. I pointed at the magazine in Peter’s hand. “Did you know Letty was a shifter?”

He held it up, Chaz and his now deceased wife on the cover.

Her throat bobbed, and she lifted her pointed chin. “Not initially, but Chaz told me recently.”

Peter crossed his arms, and Daisy watched her, head tilted. “That didn’t bother you? You didn’t think it’d hurt Chaz’s chances of winning the election?”

I grinned—good thinking, Peter. Maybe the campaign manager had seen Letty as a threat and tried to take her out. I glanced at the magazine—the lobster was out of the cage on that secret, though.

She huffed and looked around the crowded lobby, then inched closer and lowered her voice. “Look, when Chaz hired me, I told him that initial polls showed changing attitudes on the island.” She lifted a palm. “With the old king convicted of crimes in the monster wars, the public is now favoring more people of the people types.” She shrugged. “Normal voters found Chaz stuffy, unrelatable, and off-putting. So I encouraged him to court Letty—to boost his ranking in the polls. It’d show he could relate to the lower tiers, to working-class folk.”

Peter and I exchanged looks, and I turned back to Cybil. “Wow. A real love story for the ages.” I narrowed my eyes. “So you encouraged Chaz to use Letty for his own gain. How did she feel about all of this?”

She pressed her lips tight together, her cheeks flushed pink. “Please. She was gaining fame, fortune, and wouldn’t have to work another day in her life.”

I shook my head at her. “A real win-win.”

She sniffed and lifted her nose in the air. Her blond bob fell back over her shoulders. “It was. Look, getting Chaz elected is my job, and no matter what is thrown at me, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he wins. Frankly, once I found out the truth about Letty, I realized that Chaz being with a shifter would only help garner him the poor and alienated vote we needed. It made him seem progressive, while with his family connections he, of course, kept the backing of the elite.”

I took a step closer to her. “And will having a murdered wife boost his ratings?”

She scoffed. “Oh, definitely.”

I looked to Peter, then we both glared at her.

She shrank back. “Erp. I mean…”

I raised my brows and tapped a finger to my lips. “And didn’t you just say you’d do anything to make sure Chaz won?”

She opened her mouth, eyes wide, then closed it again. “I—I didn’t—” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t—”

Peter reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and handed her his card. She stared at it, bewildered.

“We’ll need a writing sample to compare to the letter Joe Santos received.”

“L—letter?” She blinked up at Peter.

He nodded. “And don’t leave the island.”

Her throat bobbed, and she snapped her mouth shut. I grinned as we turned our backs on her and headed toward the exit. I slid my