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

I tossed mine on the counter and glared at the head snob who’d made me wear it in the first place. “Thanks for the loaner. I’ve got this medical condition—makes me sweat uncontrollably. You’ll want to get that cleaned.”

His lip curled in disgust. Peter set Daisy’s blazer beside my coat, and I tapped the fabric. “And you made a dog wear this one, and she’s a real shedder, so good luck.”

As we headed back out into the night, Peter led the way back to the Harringtons’ estate. I ticked suspects off on my fingers. “So Joe Santos had motive—he was still in love with Letty and she’d rejected him the night before her wedding.”

Peter nodded. “He might have killed out of jealousy and had access to her food.”

I lifted another finger. “Cybil might have done it to gain Chaz sympathy points and secure the election. It could also have been Rachel, who clearly wanted to be in Letty’s shoes up there on the altar. Or maybe Chaz’s own parents took out the bride after the private eye undoubtedly uncovered that Letty was a shifter.” I shook my head and let out a heavy sigh. “Poor Letty—she was up against a lot.”

19

Dig up Dirt

“Fine!” Mrs. Harrington pinched the bridge of her nose and pressed her pink, swollen eyes shut. She sniffled and pressed a kerchief to her red nose. Judging by the pile of kerchiefs on the couch beside her and the nearly empty bottle of red wine, she’d been at this for a while.

She waved a hand. “The private eye found out Letty was a shifter and was demanding more money from us to keep it under wraps.”

“Marcy!” Mr. Harrington rose from his wingback chair in the library. He snatched a glass of golden potion off the mantle and paced in front of the fireplace, swigging it down.

I flashed my eyes at Peter. Were the Harringtons finally processing Letty’s death? Had they actually cared about her?

Mrs. Harrington sucked in a shuddering breath, then sobbed and buried her face in her kerchief. When she looked up again, her eyes shone with tears. “Can you imagine how we felt when we found out she was a shifter?!” She spat the last word.

I shot her a flat look. “The horror.” Guess this display of grief wasn’t mourning for Letty.

Daisy whined. What’s wrong with her?

I brought a fist to my mouth and disguised a bark as a cough. You’d be surprised, Daisy, how many bigots are actually quite sensitive.

She snapped her gaze back at Mrs. Harrington, who threw her hand out at the latest edition of La Mer on the table between us. “And now this? My goddess, do you know what I’m going to face at the country club? This is a nightmare.” She downed the rest of her glass of wine, then reached out and took a long swig right from the bottle.

Peter’s eyes widened.

Mr. Harrington moved to a cart of crystal decanters in the corner and made himself another drink. “We figured once we told Chaz about Letty, that would put an end to their relationship for good.” He heaved a weary sigh and chugged half his glass. “But no. Our son decided to go through with marrying her.”

Mrs. Harrington let out another sob and swayed slightly in her seat. “The Harrington bloodline tied up with that trash!”

Mr. Harrington sauntered back toward us and stood in front of the crackling fire. He took another swig of his drink, then scoffed. “You’re one to talk.”

Mrs. Harrington, her blond locks a mess, scowled up at her husband, her eyes unfocused. “Excuse me! What’s that supposed—hic—to mean?”

Mr. Harrington lost his regal, stoic air and leaned over the back of the chair to address Peter and me. “I met this one on a ship.”

My gaze slid to Mrs. Harrington, whose face had turned an alarming shade of purple—she matched her wine, in fact.

Mr. Harrington, eyes bleary, went on. “Her mother was working the cruise circuit as a lounge singer.” He swirled his glass, ice clinking. “She seduced me with her mermaid charms.”

I thumbed at Mrs. Harrington. “She’s a mermaid?”

“Half mermaid.” She huffed. “And I won’t be talked about like I’m not even in the room!”

Mr. Harrington sneered. “Her father was a sailor. Her real name’s Marcina—got a bit of the siren in her.” His head bobbed as he glared at his wife. “She acts all high and mighty, but she’d still be swimming in the shallows if she hadn’t lured me into marrying her.”

Mrs. Harrington gasped and clutched her pearls. She rose to her knees on the couch and shook the wine bottle at her husband. “How dare you?!”

“So, anyway.” Peter twirled his thumbs and kept his gaze down in his lap.

They both snapped their gazes to him, eyes glassy and wild.

I slid lower in my seat. Wow. Fun times at the ol’ Harrington household.

“How did Chaz react when you told him what the private investigator discovered about Letty?”

Mr. Harrington shrugged. “He already knew she was a shifter.”

Mrs. Harrington’s chin quivered. “He said he didn’t care—that he was still going to marry her.” She buried her face in one hand and sobbed, the wine bottle still clutched in the other.

I wasn’t about to wade into the middle of this battle. I elbowed Peter and muttered, “Ask about their argument.”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded and turned back to the blond. “Is that what you and Chaz were really arguing about before the wedding?”

Mrs. Harrington threw her hands up. “Oh, why not tell you, who cares at this point?”

Peter frowned. “I am an officer of the law—were you lying before? Because that’s the second—”

“No.” She leaned way forward on the couch, her expression challenging. “My son and I were arguing because I’d invited Rachel Whitmore to the wedding after he’d disinvited her. I said that if his father and I were paying for the whole affair, we could