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

were going on while their consultants were losing their houses? He hadn’t even known Pearl existed before last night, and now he was acting all solemn.

I heaved a sigh and glanced toward the exit. Maybe I could make a break for it? I’d have to shove my way through a tight crowd, though.

Three sharp knocks at the door broke the silence.

Sue shrugged. “Oh, latecomers.”

Polite laughter sounded around the room as the women relaxed and lifted their heads.

“Eep!” Sue let out a squeak and then scrambled back into the room, wide-eyed and nervous. “Come right in, Officer.”

“Officer?”

Murmurs sounded around the room as Peter and Daisy stepped into view. I couldn’t stifle a grin. Even though we were on the outs, Peter was a welcome sight.

I shot my arm in the air and waved to catch his attention. “Oh, snakes, come to arrest me again, Officer Flint?” Grinning, I slid toward him, the ladies pressing up against the walls and couches to make way for me. I leaned over Heidi and grabbed a bunch of grapes before sidling up to Peter and Daisy.

“Look at me, repeat felon, caught again.” I shrugged at the party at large. “What’re you gonna do?” I popped a grape in my mouth, then held my wrists out to Peter. “Alright, Officer, cuff me and take me away.” I shot Sue a smile. “Lovely party, thanks so much.” I waved at the party in general—Heidi looked completely unamused. “Bye, ladies!”

I hustled to the door and dove outside into the cool night, followed by Peter and Daisy. After the door closed behind us, I burst into laughter. We sauntered down the uneven cobblestones, past iron fire escapes and dark alleys, and for a moment I forgot all about the tension between Peter and me.

“Thanks for rescuing me.”

Peter only nodded, his expression grim, hands shoved in his pockets.

My mirth faded, and I felt my smile slide from my face. “You got my message?” I’d fastened a note to the outside of my door giving Peter the address of the party and my reason for going, in case he showed up at my place. It’d been a long shot that he’d come by tonight anyway, much less notice the note among all the peeling band posters and graffiti that covered the door.

“Well.” I shrugged. “Thanks.”

Peter kept his eyes forward as we headed uphill. “Did you get the name of the leader of the protest?”

I nodded. “Carolyn Lopez.”

Peter stopped, and Daisy and I came to a halt beside him. “I’ll call it in to the station.” He touched the gumball-sized device in his ear. “And get her address.”

Peter moved a few paces away, talking, I assumed, with Edna, the station manager.

I held a grape out to Daisy and whined. Want one?

She narrowed her dark eyes and sniffed it, then growled. Smells toxic.

I shrugged and popped the plump fruit into my mouth. When she didn’t add anything, I glanced down at the dog and woofed. What? You’re not going to say, just like my personality? Or maybe, toxic like my lies, or something?

Her ears flattened as she watched Peter, and she let out a pitiful whine. I’ve never seen him so down like this. I’m worried about him.

My throat grew tight. Peter paced, shoulders hunched, a scruffy beard on his pale face. I whined. He’ll be okay, Daisy. I gestured at my wrinkled band tee and torn jeans (not the fashionable kind). Let’s be honest, I’m not that hard to get over.

The dog tilted her head back to look at me, and the tip of her bushy tail wagged just the tiniest bit. She woofed. I was going to say, toxic like your breath.

I grinned, and she smiled back. There was the Daisy I knew.

17

The Protestor

Edna came through with Carolyn Lopez’s address, and luckily for us, she lived nearby. Within minutes, Peter, Daisy, and I stood outside her apartment on the second floor of a shabby thatched-roof building in the Darkmoon District. Peter knocked, and after some rustling and footsteps from inside, the door opened a crack—a safety chain keeping it tethered to the wall inside. A single dark eye peeked out at us.

“What do you want?”

I rocked on my heels. “Pleasant evening to you too, madam.”

“Carloyn Lopez?”

“Who’s asking?”

Peter leaned over so she could see the gold badge pinned to his uniform. “I’m Officer Flint, this is my partner, Daisy, and my associate, Ms. Hartgrave—we’d like to have a few words with you.”

The dark eye widened for just a moment as the woman inside took in Peter’s canine partner. The door closed, locks clicked, the chain slid, and then the woman, who I assumed was Carolyn, stepped aside and held the door for us. “Come in.”

Wow, what a warm welcome. I led the way into the cramped space. A tiny kitchen lay to the left, dirty dishes piled in the sink. Not that I was judging—at least the woman had plates to dirty. Mine were all the disposable kind. I edged into the combination living space/bedroom.

Picket signs were piled high on her bed to the left, while a threadbare couch and a crooked bookshelf comprised the living room. More picket signs lay stacked against the wall under the window, where flashing neon lights shone through the thin curtains.

Beside them, golden chests, just like the one I’d seen Sue display at the Potent Potions party, were stacked at haphazard angles. There had to be dozens of them, and if they each cost five hundred merkles like Sue had quoted us, that represented a small fortune.

The woman tucked her shoulder-length black curly hair behind her ears. With a grim set to her mouth, she swept an arm toward the couch. “Please, have a seat.”

I perched on the edge of the sofa, and Daisy set her haunches down on the dusty rug between me and Peter. I leaned down and let out a quiet whine. Try not to shed too much.

She whipped her head around and glared at me, baring her teeth. This coming