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

“She came down the aisle, said her vows at the altar with the groom, they were pronounced married and then—” Peter shook his head. “She took off without a word, bolted back in here and locked herself in. The groom’s parents, a maid, and several guests pounded at the door for her to let them in.” Peter nodded toward the door we’d entered through to our left, then lifted his chin toward the window high in the wall. “The groom apparently called to her from outside that window.”

I frowned. “No one else was in here?”

Peter shook his head.

I bit my lip as I puzzled this over. “Why did she lock herself in? Why didn’t she let anyone in to help her?” I tipped my head to the side as I stared at the white pump slightly askew on her foot. “And what got her spooked in the first place?”

Peter nodded. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.” He glanced down at me. “I’m hoping you can help me figure it out.”

I shot him a small grin, glad that we were friendly again. “I’ll try. Any cockroach witnesses or anything?”

He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

I shot him a puzzled look. I’d assumed he wanted me for my ability to speak to an animal witness.

His lips pulled to the side, and a little dance of light flickered in his eyes for a moment. “You know, I may have originally brought you on for your ‘abilities.’”

Which had turned out to be kind of a fib….

“But you’ve proven that you’ve got a keen mind for solving cases and puzzling things out.” He shrugged. “I’m just hoping we’ll be able to get to the bottom of this one together.”

I bit back a smile and tried to play it cool. I rocked on my heels and looked toward the door again. “That’s the only way in?”

He nodded. “And that’s the only window.”

It was too small for anybody to fit through. This place had probably been a medieval castle back in the day, and tiny windows made for good defenses.

“Eventually, the groom’s father managed to spell the door open. He and a dozen other witnesses rushed in and found our victim, Letty Jones, dead inside.”

The name sent a jolt down my spine. “Letty Jones?” I gaped at Peter, then at the bride.

“You do know her?”

I scoffed. “Yeah, we grew up in the orphanage together.” I shook my head as I cast back through my memories. “She was about six years younger than me—we weren’t super close, but I know her.”

I bit my lip. The orphanage I’d grown up in was one of Ludolf’s little projects—for parentless shifters. Did Chaz Harrington and his prestigious family know he was marrying a shifter? My stomach tightened—I doubted it.

People like this? Appearance meant everything to them, and with Chaz campaigning to be a councilor and the family clearly having connections to big money, marrying a lowlife shifter from the Darkmoon made no sense.

Peter leaned close, his voice barely audible. “Does that mean she’s a—you know—too?”

I looked up at him, my brows pinched, and nodded.

I sighed as I stared at Letty’s body, engulfed by her enormous wedding dress. How in the seas had she ended up here?

“Do you remember anything about her that might be helpful?”

I gulped and glanced up at Peter. “She was really shy—mostly kept to herself.” I shrugged. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s good. That jives with what a few people we’ve interviewed observed about her.”

“How’d she die?”

Peter led the way closer, and we crouched down near her head. My skin crawled at being this close to a dead body—this was one part of my consulting gig that I hadn’t gotten used to yet.

Peter used his wand to lift her white veil. “She has a rash around her mouth and throat, and you can see her neck and face are pretty swollen.”

Letty’s dark skin had faded to gray, and her unseeing eyes stared back at me. Her full lips, now covered in hives, parted to reveal that little gap between her front teeth. A couple of the boys had teased her about that before I told them to stop. I cringed and turned away.

“She appears to have died of an allergy and—” Peter paused and lightly placed his large hand on my shoulder. “Sorry. You okay?”

I shook my head, my throat and chest tight, and fought to send my dinner back down to my stomach where it belonged. After I won that battle, I shot Peter a grateful look. “Thanks—mostly it’s just the whole dead body thing.”

He nodded, though his concerned eyes still lingered on me.

I waved it off and turned partially back towards Letty’s body, shooting Peter a watery smile. “You’d think my career as a lawyer would’ve prepared me for being around stiffs.” I nudged him with my elbow. “Eh?”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled. “Har har.”

For the first time, I noticed the smashed plate of strawberries and the broken champagne flute on the ground. I’d probably missed them in my solid attempts to avoid looking in the direction of Letty’s head.

I pointed. “You said something about an allergy?”

He nodded. “We’re told she was deadly allergic to strawberries.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that actually. A kid gave her some one time, and she fell over, couldn’t breathe. Mrs. Rankle, our headmistress, ran to the medicine cupboard and gave her a shot.” I raised my brows. “Must’ve been an anti-allergy potion. She pretty quickly recovered, but it was the talk of the orphanage for a few days, let me tell you.”

Peter frowned. “Sounds scary.”

I shrugged. “I grew up in an orphanage in the Darkmoon. Scary’s relative.”

I frowned. Letty clearly knew she was allergic to strawberries, so why eat a plate of them? “Was it suicide?”

He shook his head. “We don’t know. One of the many perplexing things about this case.”

I huffed and shifted my weight to my other leg, still crouched beside Peter and the body.