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

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