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

by Erin Johnson

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 us, 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.”

  Peter’s breath caught, and he edged slightly in front of me, placing himself between us. Bon gasped, then appeared to choke on his own spit and pounded his chest as he wheezed and attempted to breathe.

  McCray just stared at me for a long moment. “I don’t know what you’re up to, exactly, but you’ve got a certain powerful someone quite concerned.”

  Daisy’s hackles rose, and her dark lips twitched, revealing sharp white canines. Her dark eyes locked onto McCray.

  The chief ignored the enormous German shepherd and kept her gaze on me. “I’m in a difficult situation. I’m being pressured by a Mr. Caterwaul to call you off—to silence you all, no matter what it takes. Do you understand?”

  I couldn’t speak around the lump in my throat, so I just nodded. Were we really having this conversation? Peter’s warm hand wrapped around mine, and I squeezed back, grateful that he was standing with me.

  McCray licked her lips and looked down at her folded hands for a moment before glancing back up. “So I really hope you’ve got something good on this guy. Something we can put him away with?”

  I frowned. “Come again?”

  She splayed her palms. “I’m being pressured because my predecessor was in this man’s pocket. I’m not my predecessor, so I’ve been holding Mr. Caterwaul off as long as possible. But the time has come that I need to make a move. I would like to help you put him behind bars, but I need you to trust me so that I can assist you.”

  I looked up at Peter. Was this a trick?

  He squeezed my hand, then turned to Daisy. He patted her head. “Chief, can we trust you?”

  McCray looked at Daisy, then at Peter and lifted her chin. “Yes—you can trust me. I’m on your side, not Mr. Caterwaul’s.”

  We all looked to Daisy, including Bon, who seemed to be stunned silent. Daisy wagged her tail and whined. She’s telling the truth… but I still don’t like her. She huffed. She treated me like a common house pet.

  I nodded at Peter, and he grinned down at me. While I still felt nervous, having Daisy confirm that McCray was on our side was a huge relief—and a big assist.

  McCray rubbed her palms together, grinning. “Alright, tell me what you’ve got on this guy and how we can put this slimy slug in prison where he belongs.”

  I grinned. Somewhere between leaving the palace and entering the jail, a plan had started to form in my mind. The Polly Pierre case had got me thinking about how sometimes the things and people we were most passionate about could also be our greatest weaknesses. I licked my lips and outlined my plan to use Ludolf’s passion against him.

  34

  An Accusation

  Peter, Daisy, Russo—the rookie cop—and I headed to Polly’s bakery. Tonya let us in, and we gathered upstairs in the flat she had shared with her mother. Tonya, a blue scarf tied around her head, sat in an oversized sweater and leggings at the kitchen table. She fidgeted with the edge of the floral tablecloth as Daisy stared her down. A clock on the wall ticked off the minutes until a few more uniformed officers showed up, escorting Lorenzo and Elin.

  Lorenzo was pale and jumpy, while Elin’s cheeks were flushed red as she scowled around the room.

  The tall, thin sister crossed her arms with a huff and glared at her twin. “What’s this all about?”

  Tonya shrugged, then darted her eyes to Daisy again.

  Peter, Russo, and I had squeezed together on the couch, with Daisy sitting on Peter’s toes, but I rose as the others entered. “Hey, guys—glad you could join us.”

  Elin rolled her eyes, and Lorenzo’s throat bobbed as he snuck wide-eyed glances at Tonya. No doubt he was uncomfortable being in the same room with a bunch of cops, his fiancée, and her twin who he’d been cheating with.

  I stuck my hands in the pockets of my bomber jacket and paced in the middle of the room, my boots scuffing along the hardwood floor. I looked to Peter before I began. I’d filled him in on my theory, and he gave me an encouraging nod.

  I gulped, feeling like I used to when I’d been a lawyer—right before delivering my closing. The other two cops stationed themselves around the room, one standing in front of the stairs that led back down into the bakery, to prevent anyone from fleeing. I privately asked the third to run downstairs and search the kitchen for evidence I suspected might be there.

  With everyone gathered—and many sets of eyes on me—I cleared my throat and began. “You’re all here this evening because we believe that we’ve discovered Polly Pierre’s killer.”

  Tonya frowned. “But—where are the other bakers from the tent? It had to be one of them, right?”

  I shook my head. “The fact that Polly was killed during the competition strongly pointed to a rival baker having the motive and opportunity.” I pulled a hand out of my pocket and lifted my palm. “But not so much. This was a family affair, with more personal motives.”

  Elin’s chest heaved. “Vince? Mom’s ex?”

  I shook my head again. “Nope.” I nodded at Peter, and with a wave of his wand, Tonya’s red and gold purse appeared in his lap. I walked over and picked it up.

  Tonya’s jaw dropped. “That’s my purse!”

  I nodded. “Yep.” I reached inside and pulled out the black tube of lipstick. “And this was the murder weapon.”

  Lorenzo, his shirt unbuttoned nearly to his navel, scoffed. “Lipstick?”

  Elin, lips curled back in a snarl, whirled on her twin. “So you killed Mom?!”

  The color drained from Tonya’s face. “What? No—I couldn’t.”

  Daisy rose, hackles raised, and growled.

  I shook my head. “Polly put on Tonya’s lipstick during the competition—lipstick that had been poisoned.”

  Tonya covered her mouth with both hands, the whites showing all around her eyes. “It was—poisoned?”

  I paced in front of Lorenzo and Elin, who stood together near the stairs, and Tonya, still sitting at the round kitchen table. “How would the killer have known that Polly would decide to put on her daughter’s lipstick that day?”

  Lorenzo blinked. “They’re psychic?”

  I stopped my pacing and frowned at him. “Uh—yeah, that could’ve worked. But no—that’s not the case. The truth is, the killer didn’t know and Polly wasn’t the actual target—Tonya was.”

  All eyes swiveled to Tonya, whose chest heaved. She slumped lower in her wooden chair.

  I pivoted to face the other two suspects. “None of the other bakers went over to Polly’s station that morning, and Lorenzo didn’t enter the tent until after the murder. Which leaves Tonya, Elin, and Polly with access to the purse. Polly’s dead, and if Tonya was the target….”

  I raised my brows, letting everyone fill in the rest.

  Tonya looked at her twin, whose face had turned an alarming shade of red. “Elin?”

/>   When Elin only tossed her blond hair over her shoulder and scowled back at Tonya, her lips pursed tight, Tonya let out a moan and buried her face in her hands.

  Elin’s chest heaved, her slender hands balled into fists. She shot daggers around the room at all of us. “It’s a lie—I didn’t do it!”

  Daisy advanced a few slow steps, as though stalking the blond, and growled. Liar.

  I winced. “Oops—looks like Daisy, our canine lie detector, disagrees with you.”

  Elin stamped her foot and let out a shriek. “I already told you—I didn’t want to kill my mom!”

  Daisy’s tail wagged. True.

  I nodded. “It’s how you got around our questioning, earlier. It’s true—you didn’t want or mean to kill your mother, but you did intend to kill your twin, Tonya. Isn’t that right?”

  In a courtroom, someone probably would have objected, but in real life I could get away with a lot more conjecture.

  Elin’s flush deepened to a blotchy purple. “Fine! Yes, I killed my mother—accidentally.”

  Daisy whined—true—as Tonya gasped and Elin whirled on her. The nearest cop drew his wand, and Peter and Russo rose from the couch.

  Lorenzo blew out a heavy breath. “Babe—how could you?”

  Elin turned and let the full force of her fury out on him. “Don’t you start with me!” She bared her teeth. “I knew you were cheating on me when I found a smear of lipstick on your pillow—in a cheap shade I’d never wear.”

  “No, baby, I’d never cheat on you.”

  It came out so weak that none of us needed Daisy’s growl a moment later to know he was lying.

  Lorenzo ducked his head and hunched his shoulders like a kid getting scolded. I rolled my eyes—these two deserved each other.

  “And you—” Elin spun around to face her sister, who cringed back. “We’re twins—I knew you were up to something. I could always tell when you were lying.”

  Tonya let out a little whimper.

  “Plus, you started wearing those dumb scarves in your hair and trying to dress half decently—I knew you were seeing someone.” She shook her head, lip curled. All the prettiness had disappeared from her features.