Pet Psychic Mysteries Boxset Books 5-8 (Magic Market Mysteries Book 2)

by Erin Johnson

  The gleam in Carolyn’s eyes faded. “Wait a moment—you’re not thinking I killed her?”

  I raised my brows. “The angry protestor who’s happy she’s dead? No. Why would we think that?”

  Carolyn huffed and adjusted her long cardigan. “I didn’t kill Pearl Litt—despite fantasizing about it.”

  Peter and I glanced at Daisy, who whined. Truth.

  Guess we could cross Carolyn’s name off the suspect list.

  She glared at us. “Do you have any idea what those people are like?” She scrunched up her face and her voice rose, mocking. “Mama Pearl and Papa Ralph just want to welcome you to the Potent Potions family to help empower you.” She scoffed. “Those two are parasites—they prey on the weak. And stupid me.” She smacked the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I fell for it. I was desperate, and I fell for their promises of wealth and living the high life.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even need the fancy clothes or vacations—I just wanted to be able to pay my bills, so like an idiot, I signed up to be an independent consultant.”

  Peter nodded. “When was this?”

  Carolyn took a deep breath and her eyes slid to the side. “Uh… maybe seven months ago. They told me I could make more money in a month than I made in a year at my day job, that the buy-in for the starter kit would be paid back and then some in mere days.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course, they don’t tell you that the only way for that to happen is to sucker more fools into the scheme under you. I believed their lies about the miracle potions and how they sold themselves—yeah, about as well as a ship with a hole floats.”

  I gestured to the piles of golden chests against the wall. “Is that why you have so much inventory?”

  Carolyn’s eyes darted to the pile, but she quickly looked away. “I can barely stand to look at them—it makes me sick to think how much money I’ve lost. I believed my upline—when I wasn’t making money, they told me I just needed to try harder. No matter if I was driving away all my friends and family. They told me I needed more inventory, to be able to offer more variety of potions, so I bought all those.”

  Carolyn heaved a weary sigh. “And when half the vials were showing up already uncorked, or half empty or mislabeled, and customers complained and returned them, guess who had to eat the cost, huh?” She raised her thin brows and patted her chest. “Me. Turns out Potent Potions doesn’t allow returns to headquarters.”

  I felt the burn of anger flare in my chest. The lawyer in me woke up and wanted to get justice for her. I pointed at her. “You know that’s not legal?”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t surprise me. But who’s going to do anything about it?”

  I frowned. “Is that why you organized the protests?”

  She nodded. “Well, sort of. I attended the protest because I couldn’t think of any other way of letting people know that what they’re doing at Potent Potions isn’t right.”

  I thought it over. I couldn’t step in to help—no judge would rule in favor of a client represented by a shifter—but maybe I could refer her to someone who could. I smirked as I thought of Eve, my old coworker who’d cursed me and ended up with my ex-fiancé. She’d recently apologized, but still—the girl owed me one.

  “You have a quill and scroll?”

  Peter looked at me, surprised.

  Carolyn nodded, then rose and dug around in a kitchen drawer till she found them. She brought them back to me, and I ripped off a bit of parchment and scribbled out the name of my old law firm and Eve’s name. I handed her the info, plus her feather quill and scroll back. “Tell her Jolene Hartgrave sent you and that she owes me one. Then tell her what you told me.”

  Carolyn’s brows pinched together as she read my note, then she looked up at me. “Thank you.”

  I waved a hand and sank back into the couch. “I hope you sue ’em for all they’re worth.” I couldn’t stand people who preyed on those in a less fortunate situation, people desperate for a better life. Growing up an orphaned shifter in the Darkmoon District, I knew what feeling low was like and how hard it was to even allow yourself to dream, much less take steps to realize that dream.

  I felt for Carolyn—she’d taken that chance, only to be duped by selfish, greedy scammers. I didn’t blame her for being glad Pearl was dead—but it still begged the question of who killed her? Peter still didn’t have the official report back, but given the sudden nature of her death on stage, I thought we could safely assume it wasn’t natural causes.

  Carolyn shook her head again and tucked the slip of paper I’d given her into the pocket of her sweater. “Again, thank you.” She cocked her head as she studied me. “You’re not the one who sent me the letter, are you?”

  I frowned. “What letter?”

  Carolyn shrugged. “Me and the other protestors, we received anonymous letters saying we all had reasons to have beef with the company. It’s what brought us together and got us organized. The letters even tipped us off to the location of the big annual summit.”

  She smirked, though her eyes remained flat. “We all got excommunicated as soon as we spoke out, even the tiniest amount, about what was going on. I thought all those women were my best friends, but they all just cut me off like that.” She snapped her fingers. “If it weren’t for the letters, we’d have all assumed we were alone.”

  Peter shifted in his seat. “Let me get this straight—you didn’t organize the protest? That was set up by the writer of these anonymous letters?”

  She nodded, and Peter and I exchanged looks. Now, this was intriguing. And Peter had looked at me, so—progress on all fronts!

  “We believe you didn’t kill Pearl Litt, but do you know who might have? Maybe one of your fellow protestors?” Peter raised his dark brows. “I know you may have felt her death was justified, but murder still needs to have consequences.”

  Carolyn glared. “Yeah? So does cheating people of their life savings!” She shook her head. “But how long have you got? That company’s scammed thousands of women; most are just afraid to speak up. Any of them could have wanted to kill Pearl.” She smirked. “And no, I don’t know of any specific plans by fellow protestors, but to be honest, I wouldn’t tell you even if I did. Like I said—Pearl got what she deserved.”

  Daisy’s tail wagged. She’s telling the truth.

  We rose and thanked Carolyn for her time. On our way out, I turned and reminded her to contact Eve.

  She nodded. “Thank you, again.” The briefest of tight smiles flashed on her face before she closed and locked the door behind us.

  18

  Poisoned

  Peter, Daisy and I headed back into the cool night. Bats winged overhead, squeaking as they passed in front of the misty moon. I leaned against a crumbling brick wall as Peter paced in front of me, Daisy following on his heels.

  “So…” I crossed my arms. “Where to next?”

  A line creased the space between Peter’s brows—his thinking line. “Someone high up in the company had to have sent those letters.”

  I raised a brow. “The ones to Carolyn and the other protestors?”

  He nodded and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Who else would have had access to the names and addresses of women who’d spoken out against the company? Were there a lot of them?”

  I thought back to the glimpse I’d gotten of them the other night. “Yeah…, at least forty, I’d say.”

  Peter nodded and continued to pace, the heels of his scuffed shoes clicking on the broken cobblestones. I frowned—normally his shoes were so shiny they reflected the moonlight. The guy was clearly going through something—could he really be that torn up about me being a shifter?

  “Yeah, I’d say it has to be someone high up in the company then.”

  I bit my lip as I thought over the people we’d met. Peyton was just a high-up consultant—I doubted she’d have access to that many women’s names and information. There was Ralph—why would he want to organize a protest against his own company? Unless he wan
ted to cause a distraction and pin the blame on them while he killed his wife. I nodded— a real possibility.

  But my gut was pulling me in a different direction. “I’m betting on that assistant, Avery Ann.”

  Peter kept pacing but glanced my way. “Really?”

  I nodded and lifted a palm. “She looks all innocent, but she had motive, means, and opportunity. She could easily have sent those letters—she knows everything the company’s doing and had heard rumors about Peyton. She’d have heard about who had spoken up about issues with the company.”

  Peter tipped his head side to side. “Yeah… maybe.”

  I scoffed. “Maybe?” Why wouldn’t he think it was her? She was clearly hiding something. I pictured the girl and sighed. Oh. “Whatever. You would hesitate to suspect those big baby blues of hers.” I batted my lashes.

  Peter glanced up and frowned, though pink spots burned on his cheeks. “No. I just want all the information first. We still don’t have the coroner’s report back— we don’t even know for sure Pearl Litt was murdered.”

  I raised my brows, annoyance prickling the back of my neck. “Oh, you want all the information first?” I sniffed. “That’s a first. Because I thought you enjoyed jumping to conclusions about people without giving them a chance to explain themselves.”

  Peter stopped walking and turned to face me. “That’s unfair.”

  I flashed my eyes at him. “Is it?”

  Daisy, who’d also stopped, looked between Peter and me, ears flat.

  Peter opened his mouth, no doubt ready with some retort, then gave a little jump and touched the gumball-sized communication device in his ear. He gave me a hard look, then half-turned away. “Flint here.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course. Saved from having to actually explain himself and his prejudices by a call from the station.

  Peter kept his finger pressed to his ear, his chin tucked and nodded. “Mm-hmm…. Yeah? You sure?… Okay. Can you tell Edna to have a few officers sent up to meet me at the headquarters? Thanks.”

  He looked up, the bags under his eyes dark. “That was Gabriel; he finished with his report.”

  I kicked some gravel. “Did he do an autopsy?”

  “No.” Peter’s brow was pinched. “Said it wasn’t necessary and the sister, Opal, was pretty adamant we don’t do one. Didn’t want us ‘cutting into her sister.’”

  I frowned. “Should we be suspicious of that?”

  He shrugged as Daisy tipped her nose to the air and gazed at him. “He was able to test the potion left in the vial—it was poisoned.”

  I pressed my lips together. Not a surprise, but good to know we for sure had a murder on our hands.

  Peter absentmindedly scratched Daisy’s head. “Besides, Daisy smelled Opal’s statements as truthful when she said she didn’t kill Pearl. Sometimes these alternative healing people can be pretty averse to some of our more invasive magical methods.”

  I raised a brow, not totally convinced. Opal had seemed overly protective of her sister’s remains to me. Then again, maybe it only seemed suspicious to me because I didn’t share her views.

  Peter patted Daisy, then folded his arms across his broad chest. “Gabriel also found trace amounts of the poison on the victim’s lips.”

  I nodded. “So who had access to the vial?”

  Peter lifted a broad palm. “Clearly her husband, Ralph.”

  I lifted a brow. “And Opal seemed to be suggesting he was having an affair. After meeting the oaf, I’d say everything points to that being true.” I flashed my eyes at Peter. “Like I said earlier, my bet’s on Avery Ann. She denies having an affair.” I shuddered. “Yuck. But something’s going on between them. Maybe she decided to take out the competition.”

  “Mm.” Peter shot me a doubtful look. “It could’ve been Ralph. Maybe he wanted his wife out of the picture without having to divorce her and lose his assets in the company, since his wife technically founded it.” Peter nodded to himself, scratching at the scruff on the side of his throat. “I think Ralph’s guilty. Let’s go have another chat with him.”

  I pushed off the wall I’d been leaning against. “By that you mean arrest him?”

  Peter shrugged and started up the street. I jogged to catch up with him and Daisy. “Why him and not Avery Ann?”

  Peter kept his eyes straight ahead. He gave a polite nod to two old ladies who walked by as we headed past a busy market alleyway. “Because Daisy said the assistant was telling the truth that she didn’t touch or tamper with that vial Pearl drank from. She didn’t even know Ralph had it on him, and since we now know that was definitely the cause of death, we can rule her out.”

  I sniffed. “Fine. But Daisy also said Ralph was telling the truth.”

  We walked over a stone bridge. The dark water in the canal below glowed with orbs of varying colors—the mermaids were out and about. Cheery music drifted into the night through the open door of a bustling restaurant.

  Peter just huffed and continued on so fast I had to jog to keep up with his quick strides. “Well, Ralph stood to gain a lot more from Pearl’s death—he’s set to inherit the company and all of their assets.”

  I could tell he’d made up his mind, so I resigned myself to arresting Ralph—though I still had my suspicions about Miss “a little too perfect” Avery Ann.

  19

  Arrested

  Peter, Daisy, and I were joined at Potent Potions headquarters by a few other cops. We nodded our hellos, the cops flashed their badges at the half-asleep security officer in the lobby, and then we stormed up the right side of the spiral staircase to the second story. Daisy led the way, bounding up steps two at a time, while workers perusing scrolls or speaking into their communication devices threw themselves against the railing to clear a path.

  On the second floor, bright pink double P’s magically glowed and sparkled against a white marble wall, surrounded by a shimmering silver heart. Gold chandeliers with multicolored flames glittered overhead, casting disco ball-esque light all over the landing. It was gaudy and over-the-top—exactly what I’d expect from Pearl and Ralph, from what little I’d seen of their style at the summit.

  Peter’s shoes squeaked as he jolted to an abrupt halt. Potent Potions employees bustled about, heading in all directions at full speed. A man tugged a magically hovering cart laden with scrolls and documents down the hall, while a woman with a red face shouted, one finger pressed to her earpiece. Several people, wands out, directed hovering bundles of golden chests—the same kind I’d seen at Sue and Carolyn Lopez’s places.

  I frowned. The place was in chaos… or was this just a normal day at Potent Potions? A circular table in the middle of the landing held a vase taller than I was, exploding with fresh flowers, sea sponges, coral, and shells. More vases and baskets and condolence cards littered the table and the floor around it. Guess the place was in mourning… though it was hard to tell with the electronic dance music blaring and nightclub atmosphere.

  We passed a complimentary potions bar with rows of neatly stacked vials and a seating arrangement with a chair that looked like a pair of lips. I smirked—classy.

  Peter stopped outside a frosted glass door labeled Ralph Litt, Co-owner, and rapped hard. He barely waited a beat before pushing the door open and storming inside.

  “Ralph Litt?”

  Ralph, who sat behind a clear glass desk in a tall leather office chair, startled and looked up, eyes wide in his overly tanned face. Avery Ann (of course) perched on the edge of the desk, looking over Ralph’s shoulder at some documents in front of him. She gasped and hopped off the table, then lowered her eyes, cheeks burning pink.

  I crossed my arms as the other cops swarmed forward, wands drawn, and looked between the two of them. Guilt was written all over their faces. I glanced at Peter’s back—he may be right about Ralph killing Pearl, but I still got the distinct feeling Avery Ann was hiding something.

  Ralph shoved back from the desk and scrambled to his feet. He extended a hand toward Pe
ter. A gold watch studded with diamonds glittered on his wrist. “Oh, uh—good to see you, Officers.”

  Daisy, who stood beside Peter, growled. Liar.

  Ralph looked around the room, flashing a smile so white it had to be spelled, eyes tight with worry. “What, uh—what brings you to my office?” His throat bobbed, and he blinked at Peter, a bit more earnestness in his gaze. “Did they get the results back on Pearl’s death?”

  Peter nodded. “The vial on Pearl Litt’s body, the one you handed her, contained high levels of poison—the same poison found on her lips.”

  Ralph dragged a thick hand down his splotchy face, his thumb and forefinger tracing a circle through the white beard hairs around his mouth. Avery Ann hung her head.

  “Who coulda—” Ralph stopped and jerked his head up to look around the room, seeming to suddenly realize what the cadre of cops in his office meant. He pointed a fat finger at Peter and scowled. “Now listen here—I didn’t kill her!” He threw a hand at Daisy. “Why, just ask your lie-sniffing dog, she’ll tell you!”

  Daisy’s tail wagged, and her eyes darted up to Peter. Truth.

  Peter’s throat bobbed, but his bloodshot eyes stayed hard as he stared Ralph down. “There are ways around Daisy’s powers—we’ll find out how you’re evading the truth. But the evidence is overwhelming—you had means, opportunity, and motive. We’re arresting you for the murder of your wife, Pearl Litt.”

  Avery Ann gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. She darted her enormous blue eyes between Ralph and Peter.

  “Motive?” Ralph spluttered. “Why would I kill Pearl?”

  I leaned into one hip and leveled him a “get real” look. “Uh… to inherit her assets so you were rich and free to be with your mistress.” I flashed my eyes at him, then looked significantly at Avery Ann.

  “Ugh, no!” Ralph scrunched up his face, and I experienced a moment of hesitation. “We’re not having an affair. I wouldn’t do that!”