The Big Fang Theory (Magic Market Mysteries Book 8)

by Erin Johnson

  The little flame leaned out of his lantern, and Daisy recoiled a bit from the heat. “Hey, doggy.” He looked to his right toward a fireplace—and a pile of wood beside it. “Fetch your pal Iggy a stick? Linden, please. Go on, doggy, be a good girl!” He looked at me. “Jolene, a little help?”

  I chuckled, but he continued to stare at me expectantly.

  “Oh—you’re serious.”

  “As a clam.” He flashed his eyes. “You can translate, right?”

  Wiley stood nearby, with the odd monster pet, Cat, perched on his shoulders. Cat, pug eyes bulging, whipped his head from Iggy to Daisy, back and forth. Then he smiled, a sharp-toothed grin, and the strange flood of voices sounded in my head.

  Daisy jerked her head up at Cat and whined, ears pinned back, tail tucked. What is that thing?! Why is it—

  The dog froze, staring straight into Cat’s eyes as lights flashed across their depths. Stiff-legged, Daisy marched over to the pile of wood, picked up a small stick as drool poured from her mouth, and marched back, her eyes glazed as though hypnotized. We all watched, spellbound. She returned and held the stick out to Iggy.

  Cat chittered and clapped its little raccoon hands together, then batted its eyes at Iggy.

  “Oh, uh—” Iggy’s flames dimmed, and he crept to the back of the lantern. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

  The princess hauled the lantern up to her face and hissed, “Take the stick, Iggy.”

  “I’m too creeped out to eat.”

  The princess plastered on a smile and nodded at Cat but said between her teeth. “Yeah, but that was him being helpful. What if you offend him?”

  Iggy moaned like he was going to be sick. He crawled forward and extended a fiery arm, grimacing at Cat. “Oh, Cat… you shouldn’t have.” His flames licked at the stick as he took it gingerly from Daisy. He made a show of gnawing on it. “Mm, yum.”

  Cat clapped and chittered again.

  Maple gushed over him. “Aw—Cat, that was so thoughtful.” She scratched his head, and the lights stopped flashing in his eyes as the whispers stopped.

  The princess and her flame exchanged horrified looks, and Daisy blinked and shook.

  She whined. I had the strangest dream…

  I waved her over and whined. Not a dream, Days—maybe let’s not play with the creepy monster.

  She flattened her ears and scampered over to hide behind Peter.

  31

  INSPIRATION

  I bit my lip and tried to get us back on course. “Now that we’re curing the shifters and should have some witnesses against Ludolf…”

  Carthamus Cook looked my way. “I for one will be happy to do anything I can to put that despicable man behind bars where he belongs.” He shook his head, a fire in his eyes. “The coward.”

  The prince nodded at him, then at me. “We have a few others cured already—they’ve all vowed to make a case against Ludolf Caterwaul.”

  I blew out a gust of air. “Good—that’s good.” My mind slid into lawyer mode. We’d have a strong case—many credible witnesses, plus the prince and princess themselves and the royal healers to testify that they’d all been shifters trapped in animal form. We finally had the proof we needed that directly tied Ludolf to some major crimes. Now we just needed the man himself.

  I lifted a palm. “Ludolf could easily slip off the island and disappear—escaping justice forever.”

  Carthamus, still sitting nearby on his stool, shook his head. “We can’t let him get away.” He held a steaming cup of tea, while one of the healers poured out several more cups from a silver teapot.

  “Agreed.” I shrugged. “So how do we trap him?”

  Maple looked up from scratching Cat’s head. “Could you find him down in the sewers and arrest him down there?”

  Will and I exchanged doubtful looks. I shook my head. “Honestly, it’s a maze down there, and I don’t know it well.”

  Peter cleared his throat. “Even if we did have a thorough understanding of the tunnel system, we’d need quite the police force to get through Ludolf’s guards, as I understand.” He shook his head. “It’d be a bloodbath.”

  Maple whimpered, and her boyfriend, Wiley, squeezed her to his side. Their odd little pet leaned down from his shoulder and patted the blond’s head with his little raccoon hands. I shivered.

  “Maybe we could trick him into coming out somehow?”

  Will snorted. “Good luck, sister. What possible reason would we give to lure Ludolf out of there?”

  Prince Harry nodded. “I imagine he’ll be on high alert after his failed attack on Sam and highly suspicious of any attempts to get him to leave his hideout.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, good point. He sends his cronies to do just about everything for him anyway. I’m sure he’s going to be more inclined to do that than ever.”

  “Ooh!” Heidi, the sloth still on her hip, grinned. “Jolene—he went to that party, remember, at the sanctuary? Would he come out for something like that?”

  Will stroked his beard. “Maybe we could stage something that would tempt him.” He turned to the healer, who offered him a cup of steaming tea. “This has milk in it? And two lumps of sugar?”

  She grinned. “Yes—your usual.”

  Will nodded primly and took the tiny porcelain cup in his enormous paws of hands. I shot him a flat look. “They’re healers, not your personal waitstaff.”

  Will looked down at me over the rim of his cup. “Who says they can’t be both?”

  I shook my head at him but grinned.

  “Ludolf might be more easily tempted to come out for a big event like that—but again, he’s going to be suspicious. And we’d need to plan some sort of party and include other corrupt cronies that Ludolf wants to rub elbows with. And the longer we wait and the more people we involve, the greater the chance that someone tells him what we’re up to and he bolts.”

  “I like it, I like it.” The little flame bobbed his fiery head. “So we can’t nab him in the sewers, and we also can’t nab him out of the sewers. So many good options; let’s keep it going.”

  The princess shot him a flat look, then smiled and thanked the smocked and gloved healer who handed her a cup of tea.

  Prince Harry lifted a palm. “Horace said that he and Ludolf had crossed paths before—maybe he knows of a way.”

  The princess nodded. “It’s a good thought. I just have no idea where Horace is at the moment.” She turned to me and shrugged. “He’s mysterious, and we never know what he’s up to.”

  Iggy scoffed. “But isn’t that his charm?”

  I folded my arms and tapped my toe. Think, Jolene, think. We needed to get Ludolf out of the sewers without tipping him off to our plans or igniting a battle between cops and shifters. Ludolf had the upper hand down there… what could we use against him?

  I glanced up as the princess took a sip of her tea, then lowered the flower-patterned cup from her lips. Bright red lipstick that nearly matched her hair stained the rim of the cup. Lipstick. Just like Polly Pierre’s cup. I blinked, pieces sliding into place in my mind. Tonya’s purse—the evidence locker!

  I whirled to face Peter. “I’ve got it!”

  I beamed up at him as he raised his brows. “Yeah?”

  Prince Harry raised his brows. “You know how to catch Ludolf Caterwaul?”

  I turned to him and winced. “Uh—not so much. Sorry.” I turned back to Peter. “I think I know how Polly Pierre was murdered… and who did it, too.”

  His eyes lit up. “What do you need?”

  I squeezed his hand. “We need to go back to the evidence locker. There’s something I need to check.” I whirled to face Will, Heidi, the royals, and their friends. “Sorry, guys—the murder investigation calls.”

  Wiley, with Cat still scampering over his shoulders, grinned at me. “See if you can get inspiration to strike about this whole Ludolf predicament.”

  I grinned back. “I’ll try.”

  Peter whistled. “C’mon, Daisy! C’me
re, girl.”

  On her back again, with Maple rubbing her belly, Daisy turned her head to face Peter. She blinked at him, upside down, her long tongue hanging out of her mouth, and whined. Do I have to? Just a couple more minutes.

  I let out a woof. Quit acting like we never feed you or give you pets.

  She huffed, but rolled over, gave Maple a quick kiss on the cheek and then trotted over, grumbling to herself. Fine—what’s the emergency?

  I barked at her as Peter and I waved goodbye to the others and strode down the long aisle between beds to leave the healing wing. We’re about to solve a murder—you might even get to bite someone.

  Daisy’s ears perked up, and she picked up the pace.

  32

  THE TEACUP

  Peter, Daisy, and I rushed across the royal grounds, through the bramble patch and under the portcullis, back into the police precinct that had once been a medieval fortress. We waved hello to the swamped Edna and headed straight back to the evidence locker.

  The mustached older cop was back at his post as we signed in. Peter found the box of evidence that contained Tonya Pierre’s red purse. We then got the teacup Polly had sipped from back from the lab. After we gloved up and gently removed the items, we arranged them on a metal table in the evidence locker. A rush of excitement coursed through me—I was sure I was onto something.

  I pointed at the lipstick marks on the blue teacup. “Okay, we know that Polly died after drinking tea, right?”

  Peter shook his head. “That’s what we thought, but I talked to the guys in the lab just now. They said there weren’t any traces of poison found in the tea or the cup.”

  I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. “Good.”

  “Good?” Peter raised a brow as he stood across the table from me, metal shelves full of evidence rising to the ceiling behind him. “That was the only evidence we had. Polly didn’t eat or drink anything else besides the tea.”

  Daisy sat on the stone floor beside him and peered over the edge of the table, sniffing at the evidence.

  I nodded, grinning. “And that’s true—Polly didn’t eat or drink anything besides the tea—which wasn’t poisoned.”

  Peter folded his arms, a glint in his eyes. “I’m listening.”

  I splayed my palms. “But the poison was found on Polly’s lips and inside her mouth, right? It was fast-acting.”

  Peter nodded.

  I pointed at the coral-pink lipstick mark on the rim of the teacup. “When Polly drank from that cup, she left behind these marks.”

  That thinking crease appeared between Peter’s brows. “Okay…”

  I nodded, and with my gloved hands pulled the black tube of lipstick out of Tonya’s purse. I pulled the cap off and twisted the base, raising the lipstick up. “But when we found Polly’s body, she was wearing dark purple lipstick—a shade matching the one her daughter Tonya was wearing.” I held up the tube of lipstick. “This shade.”

  Peter’s frown deepened, and he began pacing behind the table. “Okay… so after Polly drank from the teacup, wearing that pink lipstick, she put on her daughter’s dark lipstick?”

  I nodded, grinning—I was on the right track here, I could feel it. “Polly took a sip of the tea—which was not poisoned—and while doing so, rubbed off a lot of her lipstick. Polly’s daughters said she wanted to look good in front of the royals that day—and probably in front of her ex, Vince Dupont, as well. So, she reapplied her lipstick right after that sip.”

  Peter frowned. “Why use her daughter’s?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe Polly forgot hers, or her purse was buried in that cubby behind Tonya’s and Elin’s and she didn’t feel like digging it out, or she just liked the shade Tonya was wearing. In any case, she pulled this tube out”—I held it up—“and applied it. I remember noticing the shade looked dark on her, but I thought it might be the whole dead-person-purple-lips thing. I know now that it was lipstick.” I pointed with my free hand at the tube. “I bet if you have the lab test this, they’ll show that it was poisoned.”

  “I’ll get the lab to do it immediately.” Peter grinned at me, then narrowed his eyes at the makeup in my hand. “Why would Tonya be carrying around poisoned lipstick?”

  I nodded. “I’ve got a theory about that, too. I think if we round the suspects up, we might even get a confession out of the killer.”

  Peter nodded. “Let’s get going then.” I handed him the lipstick, and we sped over to the lab. They tested it while we waited, and minutes later reported back—the lipstick did indeed contain the same poison that was used to kill Polly Pierre.

  We headed back out into the chaos of the station, papers flying overhead and cops escorting perps and victims, and waited for our chance to chat with Edna. After speaking with a few other waiting cops and dispatching some calls on her communication device, the harried woman turned to us. She adjusted her cat glasses. “Oh honey, I’m swamped, but what can I do for you?”

  Peter asked her to have our suspects meet us at the Pierre Bakery on Main Street as soon as possible. Edna promised she would, then held up a finger with a sparkly fingernail. “Don’t leave just yet, sugar—Bon wants to see you in his office.”

  I heaved a sigh and glanced toward the exit. So close. I was not a fan of Peter’s self-important boss with a Napoleon complex, and he made no secret of the fact that he wasn’t a fan of mine. But I supposed duty called.

  Peter, Daisy, and I turned around and headed for Bon’s office. A young cop sat at the desk outside the door, the transom window above it propped open. The cop found our names on a list and waved us inside.

  Inspector Bon sat behind his metal desk, feet propped up on it beside a stack of paperwork and manila folders. To our left, a fire crackled in the fireplace, warming the cold, drafty stone room. I raised my brows in surprise to spot Chief McCray sitting in one of the two wooden chairs in front of Bon’s desk. She sipped from a steaming mug of coffee, then turned around and waved at us.

  She wore her usual enormous wire glasses, her short blond hair flipped outward. “C’mon in. Bon’s just finishing up a call with his beloved.” She winked, a twinkle in her eye.

  Peter and I exchanged uneasy looks and stepped forward.

  33

  MCCRAY

  Something about that woman always threw me off. It was as though she knew all my secrets, but I couldn’t puzzle out hers. She seemed jovial and simple—but out of nowhere could make startlingly astute observations that showed she’d been paying attention the whole time.

  Bon pinched the bridge of his nose, one finger pressed to the communication device in his ear. He looked pained as he swung his feet off the desk, his gaze far away.

  “No, hon—just—urg.” He groaned and shoved to his feet, pacing behind the desk. “It’ll be okay, you just need to put it down.” He winced, the shrill voice on the other end so loud that I could hear it across the room—though I couldn’t make out the woman’s words.

  Bon continued to pace, shaking his head. “No, hon, I’m working. I can’t help you right now; you’re going to have to take care of this yourself.” He nodded. “Love you, too.”

  He yanked the communication device out of his ear and tossed it onto the desk before throwing himself back in his chair. He leaned his elbows on the desk and buried his balding head in his hands.

  “Urg, it’s Frennie. She’s always practicing her necromancy on dead cats. Which would be fine, except she’s still learning, you know, and they don’t come back quite right and then she has to put them down all over again and it’s just traumatic and—” He glanced up, seeming to suddenly realize that he and Chief McCray weren’t alone. He scowled at us.

  I smiled broadly and waved.

  Bon groaned. “What do you want?”

  Peter clasped his hands behind his back. “Uh, you called us in, sir?”

  McCray shook her head, her blond hair bobbing. “Oops—that was me, actually.” She waved us over. “Come in—don’t just stand there.” She grinned at u
s, but my stomach tightened with unease. Ludolf’s threats, that he owned the police, echoed in my head.

  Peter and I moved closer, and McCray patted her thighs at Daisy. “C’mere, wittle puppy, and let Auntie Kit pet your wittle head.”

  Daisy slunk away from her, ears flat, and growled. I don’t like that woman.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Daisy could magically smell lies—if she didn’t like the chief, was that because she couldn’t be trusted? Then again, Daisy might just be holding a grudge because McCray put her on a leash a couple months ago. Plus, Daisy took a while to warm up to me, so she clearly wasn’t always the best judge of character.

  McCray winked at Daisy. “Playing hard to get, I can respect that.” She pointed at Peter. “Tell me what treats she likes—I’ll bring some in next time I come by the precinct.”

  Peter nodded. “She’s a big fan of croissants.”

  The coffee shop guy always saved her one. I held up a finger. “And strong black coffee and chocolate.”

  McCray frowned at Bon, who was still scowling, then back at me. “Are dogs allowed to have that?”

  I shook my head. “No—those are just the treats I like.”

  She winked at me. “Well played.”

  Peter cleared his throat. “Speaking of, what brings you by the precinct this evening, and how can we help you?” His voice held a hint of tension. I glanced up at my handsome boyfriend. Was he feeling the same misgivings toward the chief that I was? I supposed I should be wary of Bon too, but frankly he seemed so inept and terrible at playing politics or making anyone like him, that I found it unlikely he was in anyone’s pocket.

  McCray laced her fingers together and rested her hands on her knee. She cleared her throat. “Jolene… I know what you are.”

  Icy fear washed over me, but I held very still. “Oh?” I let out an awkward chuckle. “A pet psychic?”

  She pressed her lips tight together. “No—a shifter.”