by Erin Johnson
She pointed at her husband. “We’d better get paid.”
“Oh!” He hauled a crate off the cart and dropped it to the ground. “You better believe it!”
Joe half turned toward his parents, then stopped and pointed at Peter. “I caught Chaz and his mommy having a big blowout this afternoon before the wedding.” He raised his brows. “Did Chaz tell you about that?”
“Nope.” I winked. “Thanks for the intel.”
He winked back, and Peter looked wide-eyed between us.
8
RACHEL WHITMORE
I had to jog to keep up with Peter as he stalked across the moonlit lawn back toward the wedding guests and other cops.
“I’m not a fan of that Joe guy.” He scowled. “We need to look into him more.”
I bit back a grin. “And this has nothing to do with the way he was talking to me?”
He shot me a wide-eyed look, then quickly turned away and hunched up his shoulders, though it didn’t hide the red flush creeping up his neck. “No.” He shook himself, then glared at me. “You know what, yeah, it did.” He lifted his brows. “It was disrespectful.”
I smirked. “Oh, that’s why, huh?” My grin broadened. “You know, I bet if Daisy wasn’t sneezing her head off, she’d call you out on that.”
He crossed his arms. “What are you talking about? Of course that’s why I disliked him.” He counted off the reasons on his fingers. “Recently out of prison, he clearly had a motive—jealousy—and he was rude to you.”
I hustled to keep up as we rounded a stone wall. “Was he rude…” I tapped my lips like I was thinking hard. “Or flirty?”
He shot me another exasperated look, then stalked on in silence. I grinned at his back and jogged to catch up. I grabbed his sleeve as we came around the corner. “I’m just kidding.”
His shoulders relaxed a little.
“Hey!” I tugged on his jacket and we slowed, Daisy dropping back beside us. The young lady with the enormous hat stood with her clutch tucked under one arm, her back to the castle wall and the open window that led to the bridal suite above her head.
She took a drag of a cigarette, the ember at the end flaring orange, then tipped her head back and blew out a puff of smoke. I marveled at the fact that her monstrous feather-and-ribbon-covered hat stayed on her head. I pitied whoever had had to sit behind her during the ceremony—bet they couldn’t see a thing.
I leaned close to Peter and lowered my voice. “When we were questioning Chaz earlier and you asked him why Letty ran from the altar, he looked at her.” I raised my brows at him.
Peter took a deep breath, then blew it out and gave me a gentle smile. “Good catch. Let’s go question her.”
I nodded my agreement, and the two of us and Daisy headed forward. The young woman looked up as we came around the corner of the castle and startled, her already buggy eyes even rounder. She pressed a hand to her chest and tittered. “Oh goddess, I thought you were my mother.”
I frowned. Her mother? Please, she was probably eight years younger than me. I crossed my arms and glared at her.
The young woman took another drag of the cigarette, then turned her head and blew it out in my direction. “She hates that I smoke.” She made eyes at Peter as I waved the smoke away, coughing.
Daisy scrunched up her nose and sneezed.
Yeah, I feel you, Days.
Peter cleared his throat. “I’m Officer Flint and this is—”
The girl didn’t wait for him to finish. She shot her arm out and offered him her hand, wrist limp. “Enchante! I’m Rachel Whitmore.” She winked. “But you probably knew that already.”
She kept one arm extended and stroked the mink stole around her shoulders with the other. I frowned—a real fur, quite the bold choice. They’d fallen out of fashion, but as a shifter, they probably creeped me out more than most folks.
Peter’s throat bobbed as he stared down at her hand, as though he didn’t quite know what to do with it. She wiggled her fingers and he reached out, wrapped his hand around her fingers, and gave a little shake, then let his arm fall to his side.
“How are you connected to the family?” Peter’s quill and scroll magically appeared next to his head, hovering and ready to take notes.
Rachel batted her lashes and took another puff of the cigarette. “Chaz and I grew up together. Our families are close.”
“How close?”
She leveled Peter a saucy look. “Very.”
I looked around. Was there something in the air tonight? Was it the full moon?
She let out a wistful sigh. “Our families summered together.”
Peter frowned. “What does… summering involve?”
She waved a gloved hand. “Oh, you know, the usual—going to the country club, yachting, visiting our summer homes in the other kingdoms.” She shrugged. “Normal kid stuff.” She giggled. “We used to come back here and smoke together when we were eight.”
Peter choked, and I could only gawk. Eight? And I thought I’d grown up fast.
Peter recovered first. “Sounds like you knew Chaz well. Were you surprised by his choice to marry Letty Jones?”
“Surprised?” She scoffed and looked around before turning back to Peter, a humorless smirk on her lips. “Try shocked. Everyone was.”
She crossed one arm under her chest and took another drag of the cigarette. “It’s no secret that Chaz and I were intended for each other. Nothing official, but our families expected it—everyone expected it.”
Her nostrils flared, and she tossed her long strawberry blond locks over her shoulder. “It’s fine. Chaz saw the shifting social climate and, on advice from that little advisor of his, I’m assuming, went and married mousy Letty to garner more of the ‘poor’ vote.” She took another drag and her hand trembled slightly.
Woo boy. Somebody was upset about Chaz choosing Letty.
“Wow. So you spent your whole life planning a future with Chaz and then he goes off and chooses a waitress from the Darkmoon District over you?” I grinned in spite of myself. “That must’ve stung.”
She pinched her lips together and shot me a murderous look.
Yikes.
“It’s whatever.” She stared me down for another moment, then looked off into the distance. “If you ask me, ever since he got that new campaign manager, Cybil Whatsherface, Chaz has been acting so differently. It’s like, who are you?” She stroked the fur around her shoulders.
Peter shifted on his feet. “Do you have any idea why Letty ran from the altar after she and Chaz were pronounced married?”
She shrugged, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “She was weird and private. Who knows?”
I looked down at Daisy, partly out of habit, partly in case her sense of smell had recovered. She sniffed the air, her wet, black nose twitching, then raised a paw and scratched at her eyes and snout. She groaned. So itchy!
Guess not.
Peter nodded. “Well… if you think of anything else.”
She raised a brow, and we left her to smoke alone. As we walked back toward the white tent and the gathered guests and cops, Peter cleared his throat. “That was… interesting.”
I scoffed. “The girl was clearly furious that Chaz chose Letty.” I raised my brows. “Somebody’s got motive.”
He nodded. “But she’s not the only one—Chaz’s parents and Letty’s old sweetheart, Joe, all seemed to disapprove of the wedding too.”
I bit my lip. “Fair point. And both Chaz and his campaign manager, Cybil, seemed to be hiding something.”
Peter sighed. “And we don’t know why Chaz and his mother were fighting before the wedding or how a plate full of strawberries ended up in the bridal suite and why Letty would have eaten one, or why she didn’t have her anti-allergy potion on her.”
I pressed my lips together. “Quite the mystery.”
He gave me a tight smile. “I’ve got some work to finish up around here, but how about we meet up again tomorrow nigh
t? I should have the coroner’s report back by then. We’ll know for sure what killed Letty.”
I nodded. “Sounds good.” I gave Daisy a little salute, and she just growled back. Don’t mock me.
I smirked, and after a quick glance around, whined back. Oh, Daisy. You’ll know when I’m mocking you.
She glared at me.
I gave Peter a last wave and headed back toward the front of the house.
“Jolene?”
I paused and turned around.
Peter shot me a weary grin. “Thanks again for working this case with me.” He glanced down at Daisy, brow pinched. “I can use all the help I can get.”
I nodded, though my stomach twisted with battling emotions. He wanted me around… but was it only for professional reasons?
9
WILL AND HEIDI
I tipped the wide bowl to my mouth and slurped up noodles and broth, using my chopsticks to scoop more into my mouth. When I lowered the bowl and looked up, both Will and Heidi stared at me, motionless, from behind their face masks.
Heidi’s dark eyes widened, while Will just glared at me.
“What?” I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve.
Will blinked, shook his head, then bent over his patient again. After I’d left the crime scene/wedding, I’d picked up food for the three of us, but found Will and Heidi in the vet clinic’s back room performing emergency surgery on a cat familiar who’d swallowed a sock. My enormous bear shifter friend had to bend low over the metal table.
“Scalpel.” He held out his huge, gloved hand, and Heidi jumped, then rummaged around on a tray and handed it to him.
I grinned. Once a surgeon, always a surgeon.
Will made an incision, a small spray of blood dirtying his white lab coat, then handed the bloody instrument back to Heidi and exchanged it for his wand. He waved it over the splayed cat, green light flashing from the end, then looked up to shoot me the stink eye.
“How, Jolene? How can you eat right now?” His voice was muffled behind the mask.
I scoffed. “Uh—it’s late, I’m hungry.” I lifted my chopsticks. “I brought some for you guys, so don’t get snippy with me.” I dove back into my ramen and plucked out the hardboiled egg.
“Ugh.” Heidi scrunched up her face. “You don’t want to eat out in the lobby?”
“Psh.” I chewed on the egg. “And wait with the cat’s stressed-out witch?” I rolled my eyes. “Talk about an appetite killer.”
Will and Heidi exchanged looks before he bent back over the cat, shaking his head.
“Hey, you guys remember Letty Jones?”
Heidi’s eyes slid to the side for a moment before she nodded. “Yeah. What’s she up to?”
Will rolled his. “Am I supposed to know who this is?”
I waved my chopsticks. “I forgot you didn’t grow up in the Darkmoon, Will.” I addressed Heidi. “Well, she’s not up to much anymore, because she’s dead.”
“What?” Heidi blinked at me.
I slurped up some broth and nodded. “Peter called me up to this posh estate on a top tier. Turns out she was marrying some rich dude, Chaz Harrington, and—”
“Wait.” Will looked up from his work on the cat and leaned into one hip. “As in Teddy Harrington’s son? The one who’s running for councilor?”
I nodded.
Will scoffed. “I grew up in a family like the Harringtons.” He raised his bushy brows. “Marrying a girl from the Darkmoon would’ve been quite the scandal among the elite.”
I smirked at him. “So how does coming out as a gay bear shifter compare—more or less scandalous?”
He shot me a flat look. “Laugh it up—those people will eat you alive.” He jabbed forceps at me. “I bet you Chaz had some ulterior motive.”
Heidi nodded her agreement, her long black hair tucked under a surgical cap.
I swallowed a bite of pork. “Like what? Letty didn’t have money, connections, status…” I shrugged. “His campaign manager said something about voters going for a Cinderella story. Could that really have been why he married her?”
Will shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past those people. They’d do just about anything to get ahead.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re already ahead. Why are they clawing to get even more on top?”
He shook his head. “They know what they have, and they’re terrified of losing it.”
I watched Will for a moment. I’d been teasing him earlier, but he knew what it was like to lose it all. When his temper had gotten the best of him at a party, he’d publicly shifted into his bear form. He’d lost his job, his home, his connections. Even his family had disowned him.
I bit my lip. I’d lost it all, too, but I’d grown up in the Darkmoon. As heartbreaking as it had been to claw my way out, only to sink back into it—at least it was home for me. I forgot sometimes that this neighborhood and lifestyle were completely foreign to Will.
My friend murmured something to Heidi. She grabbed a vial of glowing purple potion off the back counter and carefully poured a few drops onto the cat. It sizzled and steamed.
I frowned. “You know, we think Letty died from a food allergy, but she was supposed to have had this anti-allergy potion on her.” I leaned forward toward Will. “Where would she get something like that? Everything I’ve learned about potions recently makes me think something like that would be expensive.”
Heidi and Will exchanged looks.
“What?”
“Normally, yes, it would. As would this little concoction.”
Heidi held up the vial of purple liquid and grinned. “But if you live in the Darkmoon and need potions, you go to Alabaster Monroe and he cooks it up.”
I frowned. “Who?”
Will rolled a gloved wrist. “Disgraced potion master?”
I shrugged. “Never heard of him.”
He sighed. “He was one of the best in his heyday, like thirty years ago, but he’s a madman and lost his license.”
“Why?”
Heidi mimed drinking the vial.
Will bent over the cat with his wand. “For imbibing his own potions. Bit of a lush.”
I pressed my lips together and lifted my chin to get a better view of Will suturing up the cat. “Can you give me his address?”
He glanced up at me and narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, how are you still eating? Aren’t you freaked out by bodies?”
I shrugged and slurped up more noodles. “Yeah, dead bodies.” I pointed my chopsticks at the cat. “But the cat’s alive—right?”
He huffed.
“So.” I raised my brows. “That guy’s address?”
Will growled and stared me down. “Oh sure, Jolene, it’s not like I’m busy right now!” He held up his gloved hands. “Let me just wash the blood off, real quick, and I’ll go dig it up for you.”
I grinned around a mouthful of noodles. “Thanks. No rush.”
He shot me a dark look.
10
ALABASTER MONROE
Will ducked his tall head to fit under the porch and rapped a knuckle against the door. Heidi, Will and I crowded together to stay out of the rain which fell in a chilly downpour, though the overhang didn’t help much. Thanks to the Sansea winds, the rain blew in nearly sideways.
I shivered and held the neck of my bomber jacket closed. “You sure this is the place?”
Will rolled his eyes and shot me a look. “Oh gee, now that you mention it, I’m not.” He batted his lashes at me. “I think it’s a great idea to go knocking on strangers’ doors late at night in the Darkmoon District—no worries there.”
I answered him with a flat look.
Heidi danced on her toes next to me. “It’s so cold!”
The curtain over the door’s window pulled to the side, and an old man with narrowed eyes briefly glared at us through the dirty glass before the curtain fell back into place.
Will raised his brows at me as locks clicked on the inside. “You owe us dessert for this.”
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“I want boba.” Heidi grinned at me,
I huffed. “Fine.”
The door swung open a moment later, and the old man held it open and ushered us inside with a sweep of his arm. “Come in, come in.”
Will ducked his head and walked in first.
“Well, wipe your feet!” the old guy bellowed.
Will startled and bumped into a crooked shelving unit littered with glass bottles that tinkled together and nearly toppled. My enormous friend grabbed it with his huge hands and righted it. The old man let out a laborious sigh, then moved deeper into the shop, grumbling to himself.
“Shifters—like they were raised in the wild.”
Will backtracked and knocked his shoes against the doorframe. I leaned close to him and muttered, “Oh great, and he’s racist, too.”
Will sniffed. “Alright, you choosy beggar.”
I waved the shivering Heidi ahead of me, then dutifully knocked my boots against the doorframe before sliding into the tiny shop and closing the door behind me. No wonder Will had nearly knocked those bottles over—the entire place was dingy, dark, and cluttered. I had to turn sideways to ease down a path to the back where the old man shuffled behind a tall counter.
Will ducked under a low, crooked beam, and Heidi paused to peer at a decanter of shimmering, iridescent liquid. She pulled back, scrunched up her nose, and sneezed. A thick cloud of dust flew off and caused her to sneeze a few more times.
I pulled my lips to the side, thinking of Daisy. Guess allergies were getting everyone this time of year. Though with dust an inch thick covering every surface of the shop, probably every day was allergy season.
I waved my arm to clear some cobwebs and eased between two bookshelves. Pockets of colored light from glowing potions lit up the dim space and wild, careening, funky music came from an enchanted organ to my right. I frowned, though an amused smile tugged at the corner of my lips. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it seemed the perfect space for a disgraced potion maker who liked to drink his own concoctions.
I followed Will and Heidi to the back, and we stood on the other side of the tall counter from Alabaster Monroe. The old man hobbled about, a stained apron tied around his neck. He coughed, a hacking, rasping noise, and Will and I exchanged looks. That didn’t sound good. Alabaster sniffed and wiped his bulbous, red nose on his sleeve. Oh, good—and hygienic, too.
