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

by Erin Johnson

  Daisy wagged her tail. True.

  Tonya frowned. “Besides, I wasn’t anywhere near my mom when she died—how could I have done it?”

  That was indeed a good point. I bit my lip. “Do you think your sister knows about you and her fiancé?”

  Tonya scoffed. “No way.” She paled, and her eyes grew huge. “Oh my sands, please don’t tell her!” She clasped her hands together, pleading.

  Peter sighed. “We’ll have to do what’s necessary for the investigation.”

  Tonya groaned.

  “But we won’t reveal your secret unless we have to.” Peter shifted in his seat and shot me a contemplative look, then turned back to Tonya. What was he up to? He cleared his throat. “By the way, who inherits the shop now?”

  Tonya blinked. “Uh—my sister and me. Mom always made it clear that she wanted us to continue on with the family business. Why?”

  Peter raised a brow. “Did you kill your mother to get your inheritance?”

  She folded her arms across her ample chest. “I already told you—no! I didn’t kill my mom—for any reason!”

  Daisy wagged her tail. True.

  Hmm… I considered another angle. “Did you tell Lorenzo about your mother’s ultimatum?”

  She blinked. “I… I told him my mom was pressuring me to tell Elin, yeah. I told him he should just call off the engagement.”

  “But he didn’t?”

  She shook her head.

  Peter and I exchanged looks, and from the light in his eyes, I figured he was thinking the same thing I was. Tonya didn’t kill to inherit her mom’s bakery or to keep the affair a secret, but maybe Lorenzo did. If Tonya was forced to tell Elin the truth, he’d be exposed as a cheater, and when she presumably broke up with him, he’d lose his sugar mama.

  The family seemed well off enough to afford this spot right on Main Street—it couldn’t be cheap. Plus Lorenzo was at the baking competition that day. Then again, the question still loomed—how could he have done it? How could he have poisoned Polly’s tea?

  24

  Elin

  Tonya gave us directions to her sister and Lorenzo’s apartment with a blush and one more appeal to please not tell her sister about the affair. The place was only a few streets over, in a posh building with a doorman and shining marble floors. So conveniently located for all the cheating.

  Lorenzo let us into the gleaming white flat. An enormous bouquet of flowers sat in a crystal vase on their glass dining table, and some artificial fragrance permeated the whole space—and made me sneeze.

  Daisy crinkled her nose. Oof! Can we open a window?

  I raised a brow at the dog and nodded my agreement.

  “Officers?” Elin bustled out from a room down the hall. Despite a messy ponytail and fluffy white robe, she still managed to look glamorous. Glittering crystals on her slippers caught the candlelight, and diamond earrings glinted in her ears. The girl had expensive taste. Then again, Lorenzo was just as blinged-out with his diamond watch and one ear stud.

  Elin tossed her blond ponytail over her shoulder and slid an arm around her fiancé’s waist. “Have you found out who killed my mother?” She sniffled, her eyes bloodshot and nose red as if she’d been crying.

  I glanced at Daisy, who sniffed the air, her wet nose twitching. She whined. Her grief smells genuine. She sneezed. And perfumey. Ick.

  I raised my brows at Peter. He stepped forward. “Not yet, but we have some promising leads.”

  Elin frowned. “Then why are you here?”

  Hostess of the year, ladies and gentlemen.

  Peter leveled Lorenzo with a serious look. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  The tanned guy, his shirt unbuttoned nearly to his navel, shifted on his feet. His smirk faltered, and he glanced down at Elin.

  “Separately.”

  Good call, Peter. We’d get straighter answers—and probably be able to keep our promise to Tonya about discretion—if we did it that way.

  Lorenzo looked relieved, but Elin stomped her slippered foot. “Separately?” She gaped at me and Peter, hands on her hips. “Is this normal police procedure.”

  I grinned. “There’s a lot of things about us that aren’t normal.” I pointed at Daisy. “Lie-sniffing dog.” Then pointed my thumb at myself. “Pet psychic.”

  Daisy let out a low growl. Not quite true.

  Peter grinned but nodded. “Yes, it’s fairly commonplace.”

  Elin grumbled to herself.

  I raised my brows. “So who wants to go first?”

  We followed Elin out onto the narrow balcony that overlooked a quiet, charming, cobblestone street. She slumped into one of the bistro chairs, and I took the other, with Peter standing at the railing. Daisy stuck her head between the bars and panted down at the passersby.

  I let out a quiet woof. Be careful not to drool on anyone.

  She yanked her head back and shot me a dirty look. I grinned back—before knowing Daisy, I didn’t even know dogs could give dirty looks. She’d taught me so much.

  With a wave of her wand, Elin lit several ivory pillar candles on the bistro table between us. The candles, plus a few potted plants, lent a flowery scent to the cool evening air. She hugged the neck of her thick robe tighter to her and raised her brows. “So what do you want to know?”

  Peter cleared his throat and leaned against the railing. “We just spoke with your sister, Tonya.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Wow—I could just feel the sisterly love.

  “We understand that the two of you have inherited the bakery now that your mother has died. We also understand it’s a highly successful business.”

  I nodded. “And that property, with the flat above, right on Main Street?” I let out a low whistle, and Daisy jerked her head to look at me. False alarm, Days. “That’s got to be worth a pretty merkle.”

  Elin’s neck and face flushed bright red. “How dare you!”

  I shot Peter an innocent look. “How dare we what? We were just stating facts, yes?"

  Elin leaned forward, her chin jutting out. “No, I didn’t kill my mom to inherit the bakery, if that’s what you’re asking!” She practically spat the words.

  Daisy wagged her tail. True.

  Elin’s eyes filled with tears, and her chin quivered. “I love—loved my mom.” She sniffled, tears pouring down her cheeks. “I would never have tried to hurt her! I never wanted her dead! This—this whole situation is horrible!”

  Peter and I looked to Daisy, the canine truth-o-meter. She whined. She’s really distraught—everything she said is true.

  I let out a sigh and raised my brows at Peter. Guess we didn’t have our killer. Then again, we’d both suspected Lorenzo more, anyway.

  Elin played with the ends of her ponytail. “Besides, Tonya’s always been the one way more into the business—it’s her whole life.” She rolled her eyes again. “She doesn’t have anything else. I, on the other hand, have Lorenzo.” She made sure to flash her diamond ring.

  I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. I could see why Tonya was so annoyed with her. Still, sleeping with your sister’s fiancé was taking annoyance pretty far.

  I licked my lips, not sure how to ask this. “Do you think Lorenzo has been faithful to you?”

  Elin’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

  I held my ground and just stared at her. Tonya had said Lorenzo was known around town as a player. Maybe Elin had an inkling and it was somehow linked to the murder.

  She sniffed and lifted her chin, then looked out over the street. “You know…” Her cheeks flushed pink. “He is a man, after all.” She whipped her head around to face me. “But he asked me to marry him—he wouldn’t do that unless he wanted to be with me!”

  I drummed my fingers on my elbow. Yeah, unless he liked living an expensive lifestyle and wanted to secure a piece of it for himself—at any cost.

  25

  Lorenzo

  After Lorenzo brought his bride-to-be a glass of
red wine on the balcony, he closed the glass doors and settled on the white chaise across from Peter and me, who sat on the leather sofa. He leaned forward, his knees wide, and wrung his hands.

  I raised a brow. The guy was nervous. I glanced at Peter, then dove right in. “So, we know you cheated on Elin with her sister.”

  The color drained from his face as the whites showed all around his eyes. He chanced a quick look toward the balcony doors, then hissed at me, “Keep your voice down!”

  “Oh.” I played dumb and nodded slowly. “So Elin doesn’t know.”

  His expression darkened, a muscle in his chiseled jaw jumping. “No—of course not!” The color drained from his face again. “Unless—did you just tell her?”

  I shook my head and batted my lashes at Peter, beside me. “No—did you?”

  He bit back a grin.

  Lorenzo dragged a hand down his face and groaned. “Ohh… this is bad.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded at him. “Cheating on your fiancée with her sister is bad.”

  He huffed. “We ended it before I proposed to Elin, okay?”

  “Oh, well, that makes it better.” I shot him a flat look. “That was like a week ago?”

  He scowled at me and Peter. “What is this? Is that a crime or something? Is this what you’re here to ask me about?” He shot another frightened look toward the balcony where Elin sipped her wine, just her slippered feet visible where they rested propped up on the other chair. The rest of her was hidden behind gauzy white curtains.

  Peter cleared his throat. “While morally reprehensible, no—it’s not a crime.”

  Lorenzo’s shoulders relaxed.

  “But it does give you a motive to murder Polly.”

  “What?!” Lorenzo nearly launched out of his seat.

  “Everything okay, baby?” Elin called from the balcony.

  Her fiancé called back that it was and then glared at us. “What are you talking about?” He’d dropped his voice back to nearly a whisper.

  “We’re talking about the fact that Tonya told you her mother was aware of the affair and insisting that she tell Elin about it.” I raised my brows. “Looks like you two live a pretty posh life here. If Tonya or Polly told your fiancée about the affair, she’d dump you and you’d lose your access to all the finer things in life.”

  Peter splayed his hands. “Did you kill Polly to keep your secret from Elin?”

  “No!” Lorenzo gaped at us, then shook his head. “This is crazy.” He dragged his hands through his dark hair.

  Daisy wagged her bushy tail, scattering hair all over the pristine white carpet. I could’ve kissed her. True.

  Maybe not—there went our theory. Unless…

  I raised a brow. “Maybe you killed Polly so that Elin and Tonya would inherit the bakery. Once you married Elin, that would make you even richer.” I shrugged. “Maybe you’re planning to kill Tonya next? That way, she could never spill about your affair and you and Elin would own the whole bakery.”

  Lorenzo huffed. “This—this is absolutely crazy. I didn’t kill Polly—period.” He pointed at Peter. “I may be a cheater, but I’m not a killer.”

  I held my breath as I waited for Daisy’s reaction. She whined—true.

  I slumped back on the sofa. Man—these two seemed so suspicious, and we’d struck out with both of them… and Tonya!

  We took our leave, and I followed Peter out of the apartment. I threw up my hands. “Well, there goes our top theory.”

  Peter grinned and slid his arm around me as we walked back down the cobblestone streets. “Hey, there’s still the ex and, of course, Mimi Moulin, rival baker.”

  I reached up and squeezed his hand where it dangled over my shoulder. “You always manage to make me feel better.”

  He grinned—then sobered.

  “What?”

  His throat bobbed. “We need to head down to the Darkmoon to question both of them.” That little crease appeared between his brows.

  Oh—the Darkmoon. I nodded. “I know you’re thinking that Ludolf has it out for me and that it’s not a good idea for me to head into the Darkmoon where I’ll be recognized—but I’ll be safe if I’m with you and Daisy.”

  Peter nodded and we continued on—but he drew his wand and held it tightly at his side.

  26

  Mimi Moulin

  While Mimi’s bakery wasn’t much to look at, especially in comparison to Polly Pierre’s cute as a button place, the heavenly smells wafting out the open door more than made up for its appearance. The place was located on a corner in the Darkmoon at the intersection of two streets lined with food carts and stalls. Even though there were plenty of options for hungry shoppers to buy pastries, the line for Mimi’s wound out the door and around the side of the crumbling brick building.

  Breads and pastries lay stacked on rolling carts in front of the windows, showing off that night’s goods. I lifted my nose as we bypassed the line, earning us some dirty looks, and took in a deep whiff of dark chocolate, bread, and vanilla. My mouth watered.

  Daisy woofed. You’re drooling.

  I shot her a flat look and whined as we stepped inside. You’re one to talk.

  The fluorescent lighting flickered overhead, the floors were chipped and stained, and the hairs at the base of my neck immediately began to curl from the heat and humidity. Still—the place felt warm and homey.

  Mimi had an eclectic staff. The guy with the green hair who’d been part of her team in the competition was behind the glass counter, working the register. He stood beside two girls, one with a shaved head, the other sporting a healthy variety of tattoos and piercings.

  The guy with the green hair waved the next customer forward as the one he’d just rung up headed out with a hefty white paper bag full of goodies. “Hi, Mr. Hennison. The usual?”

  The customer at the front of the line chuckled. “Of course.” He leaned over as the worker bustled about, magicking a donut and a few sweet rolls into the white bag he was holding. “How are the pumpkin chocolate muffins?”

  The guy with the green hair lifted a brow. “Do you have to ask? Mimi made them herself.”

  “Oh.” The older guy, Mr. Hennsion, rubbed his palms together, a gleam in his eye. “Well, then, I’ll take two—no, make it three. I think my granddaughter would enjoy that.”

  I grinned. I had a feeling Mimi had a lot of regulars. After Mr. Hennison was rung up, Peter politely murmured to the next customer in line and we cut in front.

  The guy with the green hair raised his brows. “Um—we cannot have a dog in here, and you’re going to have to go to the back of the line.”

  “Sorry about Daisy, but she’s my partner.”

  The guy crossed his arms and shook his head. “You’re going to get us shut down by the food and safety bureau, and that’ll mean none of these people in line get their baked goods.”

  Oof! If looks could kill. The entire line scowled at us. I leaned close to Peter and lowered my voice. “I think we’d better send Daisy out. I’ll break it to her gently.”

  He hesitated, the little crease appearing between his brows, but after considering a moment, he nodded to me. “Thanks.”

  I crouched down beside Daisy and let out a quiet bark to try and avoid being overheard talking to a dog. Hey, fur ball, nobody wants to bite into their muffin and get a mouthful of hair, so you’ve gotta scram.

  She narrowed her dark eyes at me and growled, her dark lips twitching. How does that make sense? You all are covered in hair, too! What about that unruly mane you never seem to comb, huh? At least I lick my fur. I’ve got better hygiene than you!

  I shot Peter a quick thumbs-up, then whined at Daisy. That’s debatable—not sure licking oneself is the most hygienic. I crinkled my nose and woofed. But rules is rules—sorry, Days. I’ll see if we can open the back door so you can overhear the questioning at least.

  She huffed, her ears flat. Fine. With that she slunk out the door, tail tucked, past the line of waiting customers who shrank back a b
it from the enormous, and clearly disgruntled, German shepherd.

  I straightened back up and hiked up my jeans. “She took that well.”

  Peter only quirked a brow at me, then turned back to the worker. “We can keep Daisy outside, but we’re not here to order pastries.”

  I held up a finger. “Let’s not make any hasty decisions.”

  Peter smirked at me, then turned back to the green-haired guy. “We’d like to speak with Mimi Moulin please, in regards to Polly Pierre’s death.”

  All three workers glared at us, but the guy rolled his eyes. “Fine—she’s in back.” He shook his head as we pushed through the waist-high swinging door and headed behind the counter. “She’s baking though. And we worked the competition all day, so this is a double shift for her.” He pointed at us. “So be nice—she’s old!”

  “I heard that!” Mimi’s slightly gravelly voice called from the back.

  Peter and I slid through the narrow hallway created between tall rolling racks of goodies, then pushed through the swinging doors to the kitchen in back. I slid my bomber jacket off—it was even hotter back here with the baking fires roaring in the bread ovens. The back door was open, letting in some of the cool fall air. Daisy stood there behind a metal security door, her nose stuck between two bars. I grinned and waved at her, and she huffed.

  Mimi stood at a table, kneading bread. Half a dozen other bakers bustled about, taking loaves out of ovens, decorating sugar cookies, and slicing cinnamon rolls. The workers moved quickly. A necessity, I guessed, given the line snaking around the building. Mimi wore a white apron tied over an ankle length pink muumuu.

  A thin guy with a buzzed head looked up from cutting cookies and took in Peter’s uniform. “Uh-oh, Mimi, the man’s here to take you away.”

  She grabbed a nearby rolling pin and shook it at him. “Don’t give me that sass!”

  He grinned, and the rest of her workers chuckled.

  Mimi’s lavender fauxhawk gave her a youthful appearance despite the wrinkles in her dark skin and the bags under her eyes. I couldn’t even imagine being on my feet all day for the competition on the royal grounds and then working all night—much less doing it in my eighties. Mimi had some real grit, and her mishmash of employees clearly adored her. As much as I wanted to find justice for the murdered Polly Pierre, I was hoping that Mimi wasn’t guilty.