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

“Sure.” Peter cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but Chaz cut him off.

“I just don’t understand how this happened.” He clutched a plaid blanket around his shoulders with one hand and gestured at us with his other. “We warned everyone that Letty was allergic to strawberries.” He raised his red brows. “I even inspected every single ingredient and dish brought into the house over the last week. Had the housekeeper double-check, as well.”

He frowned and half turned toward the steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of him. I took a sniff and itched for my own cup of the earthy, rich brew.

“The only exception were some dishes brought in by that caterer Letty insisted we use.” He tilted his head to the side. “It was interesting food, some kind of Asian thing I think. Letty told me, but I forgot.” He shrugged. “I tried to check all their dishes today, but they seemed, er—” He winced as if searching for just the right word. “—resistant to my efforts. Wouldn’t let me look in some of the pots.”

He shook his head. “But I figured, this was Letty’s choice, so I didn’t push it.” He blinked up at us, eyes wide. “You don’t think that was it, do you? Should I have insisted? Oh goddess, Letty.” He brought a fist to his mouth and bit it. “Letty mentioned that she and the son had been childhood friends. You don’t think he…?”

He let out a shuddering breath and dissolved into gulping tears.

I swallowed, uncomfortable. I mean, the guy had just lost his new bride, but dramatic much? I flashed my eyes at Peter, who shifted on his feet, red around the collar. “We’re, uh, very sorry for your loss.”

Chaz kept one hand over his eyes, sobbing, but lifted his other hand in acknowledgement of Peter’s condolences.

I pulled my lips to the side. “Er… ditto.”

Daisy sniffed the air, her nose twitching delicately, then sneezed.

I shot her a look. What a contribution.

Peter cleared his throat. “We understand this is a difficult time, but I’m sure you’d like to see justice done for Letty.”

Chaz kept his eyes covered but nodded. “Of course.” He looked up suddenly, eyes red. “Wait. Are you officially suspecting foul play?” He sucked in a breath. “I of course don’t want to believe that Letty took her own life by eating strawberries, despite all the evidence pointing that way. But am I to understand the police are of the same mind?”

Peter frowned. “We’re exploring all possibilities at the moment. Can we ask you a few questions?”

Chaz nodded.

Peter grabbed the scroll and perused his notes for a few moments, then looked up. “A few of the guests we interviewed mentioned that Letty looked flushed in the face and seemed to be having trouble breathing at the altar.” Peter let the scroll go, and it floated back into its usual place just over his shoulder. “Could those have been symptoms of her having an allergic reaction? And if so, why didn’t you recognize that in the moment, or try to help her?”

Chaz paled slightly and darted a look toward the wedding guests. I turned and followed his gaze to a strawberry blond in an outrageously enormous hat. Huh. Who was that broad?

Chaz sniffed and looked back up at Peter. “If she was having a reaction at the altar, I didn’t realize.” He shrugged. “She got through her vows just fine… stumbled over her words a bit, but I just thought she was nervous, like I was. In fact, coming down the aisle, she was so jittery she tripped.”

He shook his head. “After she ran from the altar, I tried to chase after her, but she waved me off. I hesitated, too long, and she got back to the bridal suite. She locked me—all of us— out.”

Peter looked over his notes. “That’s when you went around to the window to call for her to open the door?”

Chaz dropped his gaze and nodded.

I shifted in my seat. “Your mother”—the banshee, I added silently to myself—“mentioned that Letty specifically got a dress with pockets so she could keep her anti-allergy potion on her. Why didn’t she drink that?”

He blinked rapidly. “Uh… I don’t know.” His brows pinched together. “I wasn’t aware she had that on her. Dress styles and all that—it’s more of a girl-talk kind of thing, you know.” He licked his lips. “Though I do remember her sort of patting around her dress… maybe that’s what she was looking for….”

I shot Peter a flat look. You think?

He narrowed his eyes at Chaz. “How did you and Letty meet? Seems like you’re from pretty different backgrounds.”

Chaz plastered on a wistful smile, though the dude still gave me fake vibes. “We met at the country club—Letty was a server in the restaurant there. I thought she was cute, but it was really my campaign manager, Cybil, who encouraged me to court her.”

I frowned. His campaign manager encouraged him to court a waitress at the country club? Why?

“When was this?” Peter’s quill scribbled notes, scratching at the parchment.

Chaz swallowed. “About seven months ago.”

I raised my brows. “Wow. That’s fast.”

He quirked his lips to the side and shrugged. “Whirlpool romance, as they say.”

I bit back a smirk. “I believe it’s whirlwind, but okay.”

“Chaz? Chaz!” A tiny blond in a pencil skirt and pumps marched across the lawn toward us, her heels puncturing the grass and catching every few steps.

The groom raised his brows as a flock of bats went winging and squeaking overhead. “Speak of the devil…”

6

Cybil

“How’re you holding up?” The petite blond clamped a hand down on Chaz’s shoulder.

He shot her a tight smile and clutched the blanket around his shoulders with one hand. With the other, he gestured between us.

“My campaign manager, Cybil Coxcomb. Cybil, Officers Flint and—” He grimaced at me.

I waved a hand. “I’m Jolene.”

Chaz pointed at Daisy. “And their sick dog.”

I waved it off. “She’s not