by Erin Johnson
The musical doorbell finally wrapped up its concerto, and the gate swung open on its own. I followed Peter and Daisy inside. We ducked through a stuccoed archway and stepped into a tiled central courtyard with a lavish fountain trickling away in the center.
The front door, with its enormous gold octopus knocker, swung open, and Millie stepped out. She no longer sported the robe and curlers she’d worn the night before. A tall halo of teased blond hair trailed over her shoulders, and her leopard-print wrap dress showed off her round curves.
“Officer Flint!” She hiked her thin, drawn-on brows. “What a surprise!” Her bloodshot eyes darted to me, then back to Peter. “What—what brings you by?”
Though she’d done her makeup and plastered on the concealer around her eyes, they were still red and puffy, as though she’d been crying all night.
“We’d like to ask your husband some more questions about the victim, Bim.” Peter gave her a tight-lipped smile, his eyes soft and kind. He’d noticed the evidence of crying, too.
Millie’s throat bobbed. “Of course.” She gave us a watery smile. “Come—come right on in.” She stepped aside, holding the door for us, and I followed Peter inside.
She ushered us into the living room to the right of the front door. “Please have a seat.”
I pressed my lips tight together to keep from smirking. The oversized gilded couch with leopard-print upholstery had been preserved in a thick plastic cover that had no doubt been spelled to be spillproof.
The couch crinkled as Peter and I sat. Daisy lowered her haunches down on the ornate rug beside the glass coffee table covered in small, porcelain figures of dwarves, dragons, and fairies. Millie flicked her wrist, and the heavy, ornately draped curtains over the windows that looked onto the courtyard flew open, bathing the room in light.
“Just a moment.” Millie held up a finger with a bright pink nail. She then turned, her heels clicking down the hallway, and called, “Turk! That nice officer is here to speak with you.”
I sucked on my lips as I looked around, taking it all in. “Wow.”
Above the sofa across from us, framed wedding pictures covered the entire wall. A chandelier hung over the breakfast nook in the kitchen to my right, and every other decorating space was littered with tchotchkes, painted plates, zebra-print lampshades, and gold tassels everywhere. The nauseatingly strong scent of fake flowers filled the air.
I nodded and patted my thighs. “Just… wow.”
Peter nudged me as Millie returned with Turk in tow, and I coughed into my fist to cover up my smirk.
Turk, now fully dressed in a tight button-up shirt with contrasting cuffs and collar, threw himself down on the sofa across from us. He spread his arms wide over the back of the couch and crossed one ankle over the other knee.
I mentally rolled my eyes. Could he be taking up any more room? This was a man who wanted us to know he was king of the “castle.”
He nodded at Peter, but completely ignored me. “What do you want to know?” A diamond glinted in his ear, the buttons of his shirt bulging at the stomach.
Oh, brother. This guy looked like a walking midlife crisis to me.
Peter leaned forward, and the plastic cover creaked under him. “Do you know where Bim developed her pictures?”
Millie let out a strangled cough and excused herself into the kitchen. I frowned after her as she busied herself by loudly opening and closing cupboards. Odd reaction.
Turk sniffed. “She has—” His expression soured. “Had a darkroom at the office. In the back storeroom.”
Peter licked his lips. “Did she buy her own supplies?”
The business owner scoffed. “No, I provided them, of course.”
Peter and I exchanged puzzled looks. Then why had we found a receipt for supplies at her apartment?
“Do you know of any other locations Bim might have developed photographs? Was she part of a photography club, maybe?” Peter cocked his head.
Turk’s dark, bushy brows drew together and he shifted in his seat. “Not that I know of… then again, I didn’t know she was going to the office late at night and taking photos, either.” He rubbed his scruffy chin, his worried eyes distant.
Daisy looked up at Peter behind her and wagged her big, bushy tail. Guess Turk was telling the truth.
I tilted my head. Bim taking pictures at the office seemed to bother him. Then again, it was his business. It was probably a shock to discover your murdered employee had been sneaking in after hours.
“Did Bim have a boyfriend?” Peter leaned his elbows on his knees. “Any relatives she mentioned? Hobbies? Where’d she work before this job?”
“No boyfriend.” Turk shook his head. As he continued to answer Peter’s questions, I rose, the sofa cover squeaking under me.
“Restroom?” I lifted a finger.
“Oh, uh—” Turk frowned, then thumbed over his shoulder. “Down the hall, second door on the right.”
“Thanks.” I nodded and moved down the dark hall as Millie continued to bang away in the kitchen.
I did need to use the facilities, but figured it’d give me a good excuse to snoop while I was at it. I mean, Peter might be limited in some respects by the rules of police procedure—but I was just a “pet psychic” consultant, which meant those rules didn’t apply to me.
After I’d used the bathroom, which reeked of baby powder and featured way too many dolls with magically blinking eyes (did anyone want to be watched by a horde of dolls on the toilet?), I peeked down the hall. Peter and Turk’s voices drifted my way, and dishes still clinked in the kitchen.
I brazenly broke the rules by creeping on the lush white carpet instead of the plastic runner and peeked into one room. A massive, carved gilded desk sat in the middle of the study. I eased the door closed and tried the next one.
I looked into a tidy bedroom with a neatly made bed in the center. I frowned. A twin bed. I took a few steps inside. The beaded lampshade and frilly bedsheets made me suspect this was Millie’s room. I cocked my head at the black envelope sticking out from under the pillow. Huh.
A loud clank startled me, and I dashed back out, easing the door closed behind me.
I glanced down the hall, just to make sure the coast was still clear, my heart thundering in my chest. I then eased open the door across the hall. A darker, messier room with another twin bed lay inside, belts and watches littering the nightstand. This must be Turk’s.
I bit my lip, closed the door, and padded back to rejoin Peter before anyone got suspicious of my long absence. Peter gave me a quick smile as I sat back down beside him. He and Turk continued their conversation, but I was lost in my own thoughts.
Separate bedrooms might just mean one of them was a wicked snorer. But it could also mean there was trouble in marital paradise.
I glanced up at the wedding pictures on the wall above Turk’s head. They looked to be in their twenties in the photos, which mean they’d been married awhile, probably going on fifteen, maybe twenty years.
“She started at the company about four years ago…”
As Turk answered some question of Peter’s, he played with the rings on his fingers. He wore several large ones, all gold, one with a ruby in the center. I narrowed my eyes. As he twisted the one with the ruby on his left hand, I noticed that he wore it on his middle finger. Was he not wearing his wedding ring?
I ran over the events of last night in my head. He and Millie had come in together, followed by Zozanna the secretary. Zo, as Turk had called her, had seemed upset. But not in the way I would have expected. There were no tears for her murdered coworker, and she hadn’t seemed particularly sad… more like she was angry.
I smirked, the pieces fitting together into a strong suspicion. After a quick glance at Peter and Turk, who were deep in conversation, I leaned forward and whined out of the corner of my mouth. Daisy.
The dog whipped her head around to look at me. She huffed. I keep forgetting you can do that.
Yeah, well, get used t
o it. I let out a few quiet woofs. We’re going to test your powers here, so be ready.
She cocked her head, black brows raised. Huh?
I ignored her and sat straighter.
Turk rolled a beefy hand. “She was always friendly, but didn’t share much about her personal—”
“Turk,” I interrupted.
He turned to me, expression puzzled.
“Were you and Zozanna having an affair?”
19
The Rendezvous
Turk spluttered and choked, while Peter looked wide-eyed between us. I bit down my self-satisfied grin. Maybe it was my mischievous streak, but I’d always loved getting reactions like this from witnesses on the stand.
The hairs rose on Daisy’s neck as she watched Turk with those huge black eyes of hers.
I raised my brows, but kept my voice level. “Does the question disturb you?”
“No! It was just so—so out of nowhere.” He leaned forward, and his dark eyes darted toward the kitchen where cupboards continued to slam closed and dishes clink. His lips curled back. “But keep your voice down.”
“Why?” I blinked innocently. “You don’t want your wife to know about it?”
His face flushed bright red, and he spoke between gritted teeth. “That’s absurd.”
Peter held still beside me, his voice low and commanding. “Answer the question.”
Turk’s gaze whipped to Peter, then Daisy, his chest heaving. His nostrils flared. “No.”
Daisy barked, no doubt sensing the tension.
“Everything alright out there?” Millie called from the kitchen.
“Yes, darling!” Turk dragged his ring-studded fingers through the remaining hair on the sides of his head and looked with tight eyes toward the kitchen. “Snakes. Let’s go outside.”
I grinned at Peter, who looked at me with wide eyes. “How’d you know?” he whispered.
I just raised my brows and winked.
We followed Turk outside, where he closed the door behind him, whisked the curtains closed with a flick of his wrist, and snapped his fingers.
“Silencing spell,” Peter muttered as the sound of the gulls cawing overhead suddenly cut out.
Thank the sea goddess I didn’t have to listen to them fighting about who had the biggest beak anymore.
Only the trickle of the fountain remained.
Turk puffed up his chest, legs wide, arms crossed. “I’m married.”
I shrugged. “That’s why I called it an affair.”
“I’m going to need you to answer the question.” Peter stared him down, a good head taller than the businessman. “We can do it here, or I can bring you up to the station.”
Turk groaned and dragged his hands down his face. “Fine. Yes. We were having an affair, alright?” He suddenly looked about a decade older. “You happy now?” He glared at me.
I grinned back. I was, actually.
Daisy wagged her tail and snuffled. Truth.
Peter nodded. “Who knows about it?”
Turk shook his head. “No one!”
I lifted a brow. “Bim didn’t know?” She’d worked with the two of them every day—I doubted they’d managed to keep it from her.
Turk paled. “Snakes. I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “But now I’m not sure of anything.”
I crossed my arms. “How many times? Where?”
He curled his lip. “None of your business.”
Peter cleared his throat. “Answer her.”
I grinned. I could get used to having police backup.
Turk’s shoulders slumped. “Urg…. It’s been going on for about six months now, maybe seven? Zo stays late, then flips on the neon sign—it’s my signal that the coast is clear.”
I nodded. From the front gate you could see the sign.
Turk lowered his voice despite the silencing spell he’d cast to keep his wife in the dark. “I make some excuse, like running to the store or forgetting something at the office, and pop down to work to meet Zo.”
I rolled my eyes. Talk about a flimsy plan. “Yeah, pretty sure all this is unnecessary.” I waved my hand around, indicating the closed curtains and silencing spell. “Your wife definitely knows.”
“What? No way.” Turk shook his head. “She’d kill me.” He froze, the color draining from his face as he looked up at Peter. “I mean, not literally. Besides, Zo and I are so careful.”
I shifted on my feet. “Why was Zo upset with you last night?”
He cleared his throat. “I—I was supposed to meet her, but… I don’t know, I must’ve been more tired than I thought, because I dozed off.” His brows pinched together in confusion.
Peter nodded and turned to me. “That explains why the botanist and bird saw the sign go on—Zozanna was giving Turk the signal. And when he didn’t show up, she turned it off.”
I nodded. “Then Bim turned it back on for some reason.”
Turk’s beady eyes darted between Peter and me. “You’re not going to tell Millie, are you?” He clasped his hands at his chest. “I’m begging you.”
Peter let out a heavy sigh. “Right now it doesn’t appear relevant to the investigation… but I need your full honesty and cooperation going forward.”
“Yes! Anything!” Turk heaved a sigh of relief.
Peter pointed at him. “But don’t go anywhere.”
The businessman’s face went slack, and he nodded.
I thought over Turk’s words. He’d dozed off? I lifted a finger. “One more thing—you say you fell asleep and that’s why you missed your rendezvous with Zo?”
He nodded.
“So you can’t be absolutely sure that your wife was home all night?”
Turk spluttered. “Of—Of course she was home the whole time!” His lips moved without words coming out. “I—I’m a light sleeper! I’d have heard if she left.”
Peter frowned at him, then turned to me. “A moment?”
I nodded, and we moved a few steps away from Turk, who paced in front of the trickling fountain. Daisy kept her dark eyes locked on him.
Peter’s stern expression softened, and he winked at me. “Nice work.”
I grinned and pretended to sweep some dust off my shoulder. “I’ve got more than just skills with the pets, you know.”
His gaze swept over my face. “I’m beginning to see that.”
Erp. My breath caught. I hadn’t felt a tingle like this in so long. I shook myself and brought my thoughts back to the case. “Like we said before, it would only have taken Millie minutes to sneak out, murder Bim, and then come back.” I scoffed and tipped my head toward Turk. “He’d have been out the whole time.” I lifted a finger as another thought occurred to me. “Or, he seems scared of her—he might be covering for her.”
Peter’s lips pulled to the side. “I agree that Millie could have done it and that Turk might have slept through her leaving and coming.” He shifted on his feet. “But why would Millie want to kill Bim?”
“Oh.” I curled my lip. “Yeah. I mean, if we’re going off the theory that she found out about the affair, why Bim?” I shook my head. “And while I hate to give any credence to your dog, Daisy did say Millie was genuinely distraught last night.”
The pup perked her ears up at the sound of her name, then growled at me. Don’t talk about me behind my back, human.
I rolled my eyes. Come on—I was right in front of her.
Peter’s brow creased with confusion as he looked between the two of us.
I shrugged. “Who knows—maybe Millie had suspicions that her husband was cheating with someone at work, and got it wrong.”
Peter nodded, his eyes on the orange clay tiles beneath our feet, then lifted his face and looked at Turk. “We need to speak with your wife.”
The man paled. “Oh goddess. This is a disaster.”
20
Half-Truths
Peter and I sat on one side of the round table in the breakfast nook across from Millie. A half-eaten cranberry scone reste
d on a small plate beside a stack of magazines, a newspaper, and the latest tabloid.
Millie wrung her hands. “You’re—you’re sure I can’t offer you anything?” She raised her brows and plastered on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Coffee? Tea? A light—”
Peter shook his head, Daisy sitting on the floor beside him. “No, thanks, Mrs. Molino.”
I snapped my mouth shut. Snakes. I’d been about to say yes to all the above, thank you very much. I eyed the scone in front of me—so flaky and crumbly.
Woof.
I glanced to my right where Daisy watched me with an indolent expression. There’s probably a dumpster out back you can search.
I shot her a simpering smile. Grr, that dog.
Peter cleared his throat. “Did you go to the office last night? Did you confront Bim?”
Millie’s blue eyes widened, and she shifted in her seat. “No.”
Daisy let out a low snarl. Some truth, some lie.
Millie played with the stack of gold bracelets on her wrist as she edged away from the enormous dog.
Peter licked his lips. “Do you know what Bim was doing at the office last night?”
Her throat bobbed. “No.” It came out a squeak.
Daisy growled again.
I grinned and reached for a hunk of that scone. Somebody was a bad liar, and I didn’t need a mangy mutt to tell me that. I popped the buttery, flaky pastry into my mouth. A delicious mix of butter and tart cranberry. Yum.
“This isn’t looking good for you, Millie.” Peter lifted a thick brow. “My dog senses that you’re lying.”
Millie’s chin trembled, and tears welled in her eyes. “Bim and I were friends!” She looked to the side. “I would never want her dead.” She sniffled, then buried her face in her hands and let out a gulping sob.
Daisy looked up at Peter and whined, her tail swishing on the floor. Truth.
Turk marched in from the parlor, where he’d no doubt been listening. “What’s this all about?” He stood beside his wife and put his hands on her heaving shoulders. “I told you, she couldn’t have done it!”
