Pet Psychic Mysteries Boxset Books 5-8 (Magic Market Mysteries Book 2) by Erin Johnson (reading diary .TXT) 📗

others down. “Be professionals.” He rolled his eyes, and I narrowed mine. Interesting that only this man and his team didn’t seem concerned about the tea. Was it because they hadn’t had any themselves… or because one of them had killed the competition and knew they weren’t targets?

My boyfriend rose to his feet and slowly circled to address everyone in the tent. He held his palms up, trying to placate the panicking bakers. “We don’t even know for certain that the tea was poisoned.”

The woman with the headscarf whimpered and fanned herself, her cheeks flushed.

Peter raised his brows. “Besides, our evidence suggests that whatever killed the victim was extremely fast-acting. If you’d been poisoned, it would have affected you already.”

The woman with the scarf blinked. “Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed.

Peter gave the group an encouraging nod, then huddled together with Russo and me.

I bit my lip. “Okay. So if just about everyone here drank the tea, why was Polly the only one who died?”

Russo pushed his glasses up his nose. “Maybe the killer poisoned the cup itself, versus the tea?”

Peter nodded, a little crease between his brows as he thought it over. “It’s a good thought, but how would the killer know she’d get that cup?”

That last question stumped all of us. After a few moments of quiet, Peter turned to Russo. “Bag up the teacup as evidence, as well as everyone’s personal effects.” He pointed at the shelves under the butcher block countertop.

Besides some cabinets and a stone oven, a square cubby held several purses all crammed in together. I figured they must be Polly’s, as well as her twin girls’.

Peter gestured at the rest of the baking stations. “We’ll go through them all back at the station to see if someone snuck the poison in.”

An enchanted baking fire burned in the stone oven beside the cubby with all the purses, nervously munching on a stick.

Peter and I crouched down in front of it. He gave a little wave. “Hi—how are you?”

She shook her fiery head and spoke in a high voice. “Oof. Poor Polly.”

I edged a little closer, the warmth of the flames comforting in the chilly fall air. “Did you see anyone come over here?”

She nibbled at the stick with her fiery mouth. “Nope.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Did you see anything unusual at all?”

“No. I could really only see Polly’s legs, but I just saw her after the competition started and her girls ran off. I heard her talk to the tea guy—but nothing seemed out of the ordinary otherwise.”

I lifted a brow. “Tea guy?”

“The guy who gave her tea.”

Ah. Duh.

“Thank you.” Peter and I rose again, and he turned to Russo. “Make sure the fire stays fed—don’t let it go out.”

Russo nodded and moved off to confer with a couple other officers, who got to work collecting evidence. Peter slid close to me. “I think it’s time we interviewed Polly’s daughters.”

Daisy’s pointy ears pricked up.

I winked at Peter. “Let’s do it.”

He grinned back, and we started toward the young ladies.

4

Twins

While the rest of the bakers had edged toward the pantry side of the tent, an officer stood beside Polly’s twin daughters at the opposite end. Peter nodded at him, and he moved away as we approached. The shorter one stared straight ahead, though from the vacant, glazed eyes I guessed she wasn’t actually seeing me. The taller one continued to bawl, her face buried in her hands.

Peter frowned, then cleared his throat. When he got no reaction, he tried again, louder. The shorter gal startled and blinked at us, as though she wasn’t quite sure where she was. The other choked on a sob and lowered her hands enough to peek at us over the tips of her fingers.

I gave Peter an encouraging nod, and he laced his hands behind his back. “Elin and Tonya Pierre?”

The shorter one nodded. “That’s us.” Her voice came out hoarse.

Peter pressed his lips together. “I’m Officer Peter Flint. My associate, Jolene Hartgrave—”

I gave a little wave.

“—and my canine partner, Daisy.” Peter patted her furry head.

The girls’ eyes widened as they stared at the enormous German shepherd at Peter’s side.

“Daisy is enchanted to smell lies, so I urge you to be truthful with us.”

The girls nodded, their eyes growing even wider. Enchanted canine partners were hardly the standard, even on our magical island.

Peter gave them a sympathetic look. “I understand Polly was your mother. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

The shorter one swayed slightly on her feet, while the taller girl wailed again, her thin shoulders hunched and shaking.

I glanced down at Daisy, who stood between Peter and me. She cocked her head, looking first at one girl, then the other. She whined. Their reactions are both honest.

I raised my brows. Guess everyone grieves differently. I’d have guessed the hysterics from blondie were an act.

Peter shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “I know this is a difficult time, but I’m sure you want to see justice done for your mother as much as we do. We need to ask you a few questions.”

The shorter brunette lifted her quivering chin and nodded, while the tall blond lowered her hands, then dropped her arms limp at her sides, though she continued to whimper and sniffle.

Peter glanced at his notes, the scroll hovering magically at his shoulder. “Now, which of you is which?”

The plump brunette lifted her hand. “I’m Tonya.”

The thin blond sniffled. “I’m Elin.”

Peter nodded. “Thank you. And I understand that you’re twins?”

Elin glanced down her slightly upturned nose at her sister and sneered. “Not identical, clearly.”

Tonya’s gaze hardened, but she otherwise didn’t react. I sucked on my lips. Wow. Quite the dig—and while their mother’s body wasn’t even cold yet. Clearly there was some animosity between the girls, but was this just normal sister stuff?

I had no frame of reference, as I’d grown up in the orphanage. I glanced to Peter at my right—he was an only child, so I doubted he’d be of much help either. Maybe I’d ask Heidi later.