by Erin Johnson
“And Officer Flint!” She threw her arms in the air, and Daisy shot her a side-eye, ears flat, as the action tugged on her leash and pulled the dog to the side.
“The dream team is back together again!” She hastily shoved the leash at Peter. “She’s all yours.”
He frowned. “Did everything go okay?”
“Oh. Yeah.” McCray shoved her hands into her pockets and pursed her lips. “Definitely.” The gusty winds barely touched her short blond hair, the ends flipped around her face. That must be a strong hair potion she used.
The chief brought a hand to the side of her mouth, as if she were sharing a secret. “Things got a little dicey when Daisy decided she had to relieve herself.” She raised her blond brows. “Number two.”
Peter’s cheeks flushed, and I bit back a grin.
McCray thumbed over her shoulder, toward the dense tree line, beaming again. “No worries, though. I’ve got Bon on it.”
I gasped out a laugh. “What? Really?”
She frowned. “Yeah, course. I didn’t have any doggie bags on me, and I’m the chief! I’ve got important police business to attend to.”
I imagined Bon rooting around in the bushes in the dark looking for dog droppings. Welp, my night had been made.
Daisy hung her head, pointy ears still flat, and growled. So undignified. A leash?
I grinned—she had a point. “What’s with the leash?” I’d never seen her at the end of one before.
McCray raised her brows at Daisy and shifted to a baby voice. “We certainly didn’t want to wear a collar and leash, now did we? But we kept running after Peter, so mean Aunty Kit had to put a leash on us.” She chuckled and addressed Peter and me. “Man. She hates this thing.” She yanked her wand out of her pocket, and with a flick of her wrist, the leather strap magically disappeared.
Daisy leapt to her feet and bounded to Peter’s side, tapping her front paws and panting up at him. Peter! Don’t leave me with her again, Peter! She shot McCray an indignant look over her shoulder. She made me sit for treats—can you imagine? Me! Like a common house pet!
I let out a quiet whine. Oh, the horror!
She jerked her head in my direction, pointy ears pricked. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she growled. Oh. It’s you.
I grinned. Good to see you too, Days.
She held still, then her tail wagged a bit, and she grinned back up at Peter, her long tongue half hanging out of her mouth. She let out a happy bark. Peter’s feeling better. Did you see?
I nodded and rocked on my heels, grinning. Yeah. I’d seen.
“So…” Chief McCray clapped her hands together, and I looked up to find her watching me with a curious expression. “I’ll leave you all to your work. I look forward to hearing your insights.” She pressed her fingers to her temples before strutting off, a jovial grin on her face as if she was at a family reunion instead of the scene of a murder.
Peter watched her go for a moment, then crouched down in front of Daisy and grabbed big handfuls of the tawny fur around her neck. She licked his face as he gave her a good rub, then he straightened and dusted off his navy pants, golden hairs floating through the night sky.
I let out a low whine. I bet doing laundry with you around is a nightmare.
She looked me up and down. Judging by the state of your clothing, I’d guess doing laundry is your nightmare. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her lips back, revealing pointy white teeth.
Was she laughing at me?
She sneezed, then sneezed again.
Ah.
She followed that up by plunking her haunches down and scratching furiously at her face.
I raised a brow at the dog. Her eyes might be a little red, and she was currently gnawing at her back leg with a lot of enthusiasm, but other than that she seemed totally fine—full of her normal spitfire—to me.
“Shall we go have a word with the groom’s parents?”
Daisy looked up from chewing on herself and sneezed.
I swept an arm out. “Lead the way.”
The three of us threaded back through the sober wedding guests toward the castle. I had a feeling I’d spotted the groom’s parents when a blond woman, in her early forties probably, huffed as a pair of cops exited the back door with Letty’s body, draped in a tarp, magically hovering between them.
“Not the irises—watch your step!”
One of the cops glanced down as he treaded over the dark soil of a flower bed and left behind a broken green shoot. The woman flashed her eyes at him as they carried the body away. An older man, maybe in his sixties, placed his hands on her shoulders from behind. She crossed her arms and huffed. “No respect.”
I raised my brows. No respect? If I was correct that these were Chaz’s parents, then they’d just witnessed their daughter-in-law’s corpse carried out by the cops, and they were worried about their flowers? I narrowed my eyes as we approached. Snakes, I hoped she’d done it so we could arrest her.
The woman still looked thoroughly put out as we approached. Peter led the way. “Mr. and Mrs. Harrington?”
The blond narrowed her eyes, and her gaze slid over us quickly before lingering on a spot just beyond my shoulder. Wow. Dismissed, apparently. My initial dislike deepened, and I crossed my fingers in my pocket. Come on—be the murderer!
The man was handsome for his age, his silvery hair slicked back and his black tux perfectly tailored. “Yes. How can we help you, Officer—” His eyes scanned the gold badge on Peter’s jacket. “—Flint?” He had a deep voice and spoke with an aristocratic drawl.
Peter cleared his throat, and a quill and scroll for taking notes magically appeared next to his head. “I’d like to ask you some questions, if that’s alright?”
Mr. Harrington’s mouth stayed a grim, flat line. I doubted the man ever smiled. “Of course.”
Mrs. Harrington huffed and shifted on her feet, clearly annoyed. I’d bet she was annoyed often. Her long blond hair was pulled half back in a bun, revealing enormous glittering ruby earrings. She played with the long ends that fell over her shoulder and looked off into the night. I fought a grin as I took in her outfit. Someone clearly considered herself a fashionista.
She’d ditched the traditionally demure mother of the groom dress for a silver, long-sleeved jumpsuit with a huge black collar and bowtie. I had to admit she was pulling it off, but she’d look more at home during fashion week than at her son’s wedding.
Peter shifted on his feet, his feathered quill perched and ready to take notes. “Were you two aware of Letty’s strawberry allergy?”
Mrs. Harrington rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes. How could we not be? It’s like the girl thought it made her special or something, went on about it incessantly.”
Her husband shot her a look, then addressed Peter. “We were aware and did our best to accommodate her.”
His wife huffed. “Our housekeeper, the maids, and the caterers were well warned of it. Especially after the incident.”
Mr. Harrington winced and looked away.
Peter cocked his head. “Incident?”
Mrs. Harrington pursed her magically enhanced lips. “At the first family dinner with Letty, when Chaz introduced her to us, our housekeeper accidentally served something with strawberries.” She smirked and leaned closer. “It was so horrendous—she got all red and blotchy and wheezy—” She scoffed and glanced back at her husband. “Kill me if I ever look that bad!”
His cheeks flushed red, and he flashed his eyes at her.
She turned back to us and pressed perfectly manicured fingertips to her lips. “Oops. Maybe not the best turn of phrase.”
I gaped. Snakes. With in-laws like that, who needs enemies?
4
Sneezy
Peter shook his head. “Wait. Can you go back? What happened that night, exactly? When Letty had an allergic reaction?”
Mr. Harrington stepped in. “Her throat swelled. It was hard for her to swallow.”
“And then what?”
; He lifted a palm. “Thank the goddess, the girl had an anti-allergy potion on her.”
Mrs. Harrington folded her arms. “Chaz told us afterward that she always carries it.” She looked skyward. “She even insisted on wearing a wedding dress with pockets to have it handy during the wedding.” She sniffed. “Can you imagine? How uncouth.”
Peter and I exchanged confused looks. “Wait—she had an anti-allergy potion on her?” Peter looked between the two of them. “Then why didn’t she take it?”
The blond, with her chiseled cheekbones, shot Peter a cool look. “Who knows? Maybe she forgot it.”
Peter turned toward me and dipped his lips close to my ear. I tried to ignore the happy shiver that ran down my spine. “Maybe that’s why she rushed back to the bridal suite, to look for her potion.”
I nodded, eyes narrowed. “But why didn’t she have the potion on her, when she got her wedding dress expressly for that reason?” I pulled my lips to the side. “And why didn’t anyone help her? Why did she lock herself in that room, alone?”
The crease between Peter’s brow deepened. “No potion was found on her body or in the room.”
I shrugged. “Yet. Maybe it’ll turn up.”
He nodded and turned back to the Harringtons. “That night of the family dinner, when you first met Letty—after she took the potion, what happened?”
Mrs. Harrington rolled a slender wrist. “She lay down on the chaise, and twenty minutes later she was good as new.” She sniffed and examined her nails. “And we were finally able to serve dessert.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth as I shot daggers at this woman with my eyes. “Wow, so caring. So I take it you two weren’t big fans of Letty’s?”
Mr. Harrington stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders. “Let’s just say… she wasn’t what I expected Chaz to choose.” He raised his pointed brows.
His wife let out a humorless laugh. “That’s an understatement. She was a nice enough girl, but when he’s surrounded by plenty of eligible, wealthy, lovely girls—” She made a face. “—why choose the wallflower from the night market?”
I mean, on one hand, I agreed with them. I had a hard time seeing a rich politician choosing a girl like Letty purely out of love, but weirder things had happened, right? Still—her jab at the Darkmoon was one insult too many. I huffed, annoyed to my breaking point.
“Did you kill Letty?”
Peter shot me a look, but I held my ground, staring them down.
The blond pressed her hand to her chest. “Goodness, no!”
Her husband shook his head. “No, indeed.”
Peter and I looked at Daisy.
The German shepherd, who stood on Peter’s other side, bared her teeth and growled. Liar!
I turned to Mrs. Harrington, a triumphant smile on my face. Gotcha!
The dog’s snarl cut off abruptly as she sneezed, then again and again. I flashed my eyes at her—get it together, Daisy!
She finally stopped and blinked her red, watery eyes. She sniffled, then her black, wet nose twitched, and she whined. Or… truth? She sneezed again, and her ears flattened. I don’t know.
I turned to Peter with wide eyes, and he gave a solemn nod. Okay. I saw what he meant now by out of commission. I frowned down at the dog, a mix of amusement and pity battling within me.
I crouched down and let out a quiet whimper. I’d say karma is a dish best served cold, but with the sniffles, you probably wouldn’t be able to taste much of it anyway.
She swiveled her head my way and narrowed her dark eyes. She bared her teeth and snarled. I don’t have to taste to still bite!
I smirked but stood back up. There’d be plenty of time for relentless teasing later. The important thing for now was that Peter and I were flying blind on this case. I could see why he’d called me in—my ability to speak to animals would be the only extra advantage we’d have on this one.
“Do you know anyone who might have had a motive to kill Letty?” Peter’s quill scribbled away on the roll of parchment.
Mr. Harrington shook his head, but his wife rolled a wrist. “I can’t think of anyone specific, but I can’t imagine she was a popular girl.”
I shook my head. Real vote of confidence from the mother-in-law.
“Thanks for your time.” Peter gave a polite nod. “We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.”
They nodded back, and Peter, Daisy, and I headed away from them and the castle, back across the moonlit lawn.
“What’s next?”
Peter jerked his chin toward a young man in a tux sitting alone at a table with a cop standing just beside him. “Let’s go have a word with the groom.”
I nodded. “Do we suspect Chaz Harrington’s political rivals?”
He shook his head. “Not at present. Russo checked into it—they’re both traveling in other kingdoms at the moment, and it’s unclear why they would have targeted Chaz Harrington’s bride, versus the candidate himself, if they wanted to take out an opponent.”
I nodded. “So we’re thinking someone attending the wedding did it?”
Peter nodded. “Exactly. Either that, or the bride triggered her own allergic reaction.”
With thousands of guests in attendance, suicide an option, and Daisy’s abilities on the fritz, I doubted this would be an easy case.
5
Chaz
“Mind if we ask Mr. Harrington a few words?”
The cop guarding the redhead nodded at Peter, then moved off among the crowd of murmuring wedding guests.
I pulled out the white chair beside Chaz and plopped down, while Peter and Daisy stood just to my left.
The groom winced, his green eyes dull, shoulders slumped. He’d certainly lost a lot of the overeager smarm that he oozed in the campaign posters plastered all around the city.
“Chaz, if you don’t mind.” He pressed his full lips tight together. “Mr. Harrington’s my father.”
“Sure.” Peter cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but Chaz cut him off.
“I just don’t understand how this happened.” He clutched a plaid blanket around his shoulders with one hand and gestured at us with his other. “We warned everyone that Letty was allergic to strawberries.” He raised his red brows. “I even inspected every single ingredient and dish brought into the house over the last week. Had the housekeeper double-check, as well.”
He frowned and half turned toward the steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of him. I took a sniff and itched for my own cup of the earthy, rich brew.
“The only exception were some dishes brought in by that caterer Letty insisted we use.” He tilted his head to the side. “It was interesting food, some kind of Asian thing I think. Letty told me, but I forgot.” He shrugged. “I tried to check all their dishes today, but they seemed, er—” He winced as if searching for just the right word. “—resistant to my efforts. Wouldn’t let me look in some of the pots.”
He shook his head. “But I figured, this was Letty’s choice, so I didn’t push it.” He blinked up at us, eyes wide. “You don’t think that was it, do you? Should I have insisted? Oh goddess, Letty.” He brought a fist to his mouth and bit it. “Letty mentioned that she and the son had been childhood friends. You don’t think he…?”
He let out a shuddering breath and dissolved into gulping tears.
I swallowed, uncomfortable. I mean, the guy had just lost his new bride, but dramatic much? I flashed my eyes at Peter, who shifted on his feet, red around the collar. “We’re, uh, very sorry for your loss.”
Chaz kept one hand over his eyes, sobbing, but lifted his other hand in acknowledgement of Peter’s condolences.
I pulled my lips to the side. “Er… ditto.”
Daisy sniffed the air, her nose twitching delicately, then sneezed.
I shot her a look. What a contribution.
Peter cleared his throat. “We understand this is a difficult time, but I’m sure you’d like to see justice done for Letty.”
Chaz kept his eyes covered but nodded. “Of course.” He looked up suddenly, eyes red. “Wait. Are you officially suspecting foul play?” He sucked in a breath. “I of course don’t want to believe that Letty took her own life by eating strawberries, despite all the evidence pointing that way. But am I to understand the police are of the same mind?”
Peter frowned. “We’re exploring all possibilities at the moment. Can we ask you a few questions?”
Chaz nodded.
Peter grabbed the scroll and perused his notes for a few moments, then looked up. “A few of the guests we interviewed mentioned that Letty looked flushed in the face and seemed to be having trouble breathing at the altar.” Peter let the scroll go, and it floated back into its usual place just over his shoulder. “Could those have been symptoms of her having an allergic reaction? And if so, why didn’t you recognize that in the moment, or try to help her?”
Chaz paled slightly and darted a look toward the wedding guests. I turned and followed his gaze to a strawberry blond in an outrageously enormous hat. Huh. Who was that broad?
Chaz sniffed and looked back up at Peter. “If she was having a reaction at the altar, I didn’t realize.” He shrugged. “She got through her vows just fine… stumbled over her words a bit, but I just thought she was nervous, like I was. In fact, coming down the aisle, she was so jittery she tripped.”
He shook his head. “After she ran from the altar, I tried to chase after her, but she waved me off. I hesitated, too long, and she got back to the bridal suite. She locked me—all of us— out.”
Peter looked over his notes. “That’s when you went around to the window to call for her to open the door?”
Chaz dropped his gaze and nodded.
I shifted in my seat. “Your mother”—the banshee, I added silently to myself—“mentioned that Letty specifically got a dress with pockets so she could keep her anti-allergy potion on her. Why didn’t she drink that?”