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

waved Peter off. “I’m just going to look—for investigative purposes.” My stomach let out a particularly loud growl and betrayed me. I gave Peter a sheepish grin and skipped over to the cart.

“See?” The older lady gestured at a cauldron that hovered midair. I bent my head over the steaming stew and inhaled the rich, fatty scent of slow-cooked pork and delicious spices.

I threw my head back. “Snakes, that smells good.”

“Mm-hmm.” The older man bustled over, spoon in hand. “I said he nearly messed it up, but my wife’s such a good cook, she salvaged it.”

I bit my lip. “I’d like to believe you, but only one way to find out.” I winked, and they chuckled and handed me the spoon. I reached into the pot and scooped up a bite, dripping with pork chunks and fatty sauce.

“Jolene!”

I jumped and spun around. Peter flashed his eyes at me. “That’s evidence and the possible means of murder.”

Joe’s mom scoffed. “We hadn’t even served it yet!”

Peter raised a brow. “Someone could have brought the victim a plate, or maybe she snuck a bite from the kitchen. We need to be thorough.”

I shrugged. “I’m not allergic to strawberries.” I bent back over the spoon to take a bite.

“Jolene!”

I spun back around, mouth watering. “What?”

Joe’s parents scowled at Peter.

He stood beside Daisy, eyes wide. “We don’t know for sure that Letty even died of her strawberry allergy. For all we know, she was poisoned.” He shot a pointed look at the spoonful of stew in my hand.

I took another whiff, and my stomach grumbled. I hesitated a moment, then grumbling, dumped the stew back into the pot and handed the spoon back to Joe’s dad. “Fine!” I threw my hands up at Peter and stomped back toward him. “You happy?”

He shook his head at me, then frowned back at Joe’s parents and the cart. “Wait—like I said, this is all evidence. Did no one talk to you about that?”

Joe and his parents exchanged looks, then all shook their heads.

Peter pointed at the cart and all its contents. “We’re going to have to confiscate all of that and have it sent up to the station for testing.”

“What? Are you serious?” Joe’s dad gestured at the cart. “We have to unpack all this?”

Peter nodded. “Apologies for the inconvenience, but I’ll send some officers around to assist.”

Joe’s mom huffed. “What a waste!”

I sighed wistfully at all the delicious-smelling food. No kidding. I’d have gladly devoured all of it.

She pointed at her husband. “We’d better get paid.”

“Oh!” He hauled a crate off the cart and dropped it to the ground. “You better believe it!”

Joe half turned toward his parents, then stopped and pointed at Peter. “I caught Chaz and his mommy having a big blowout this afternoon before the wedding.” He raised his brows. “Did Chaz tell you about that?”

“Nope.” I winked. “Thanks for the intel.”

He winked back, and Peter looked wide-eyed between us.

8

Rachel Whitmore

I had to jog to keep up with Peter as he stalked across the moonlit lawn back toward the wedding guests and other cops.

“I’m not a fan of that Joe guy.” He scowled. “We need to look into him more.”

I bit back a grin. “And this has nothing to do with the way he was talking to me?”

He shot me a wide-eyed look, then quickly turned away and hunched up his shoulders, though it didn’t hide the red flush creeping up his neck. “No.” He shook himself, then glared at me. “You know what, yeah, it did.” He lifted his brows. “It was disrespectful.”

I smirked. “Oh, that’s why, huh?” My grin broadened. “You know, I bet if Daisy wasn’t sneezing her head off, she’d call you out on that.”

He crossed his arms. “What are you talking about? Of course that’s why I disliked him.” He counted off the reasons on his fingers. “Recently out of prison, he clearly had a motive—jealousy—and he was rude to you.”

I hustled to keep up as we rounded a stone wall. “Was he rude…” I tapped my lips like I was thinking hard. “Or flirty?”

He shot me another exasperated look, then stalked on in silence. I grinned at his back and jogged to catch up. I grabbed his sleeve as we came around the corner. “I’m just kidding.”

His shoulders relaxed a little.

“Hey!” I tugged on his jacket and we slowed, Daisy dropping back beside us. The young lady with the enormous hat stood with her clutch tucked under one arm, her back to the castle wall and the open window that led to the bridal suite above her head.

She took a drag of a cigarette, the ember at the end flaring orange, then tipped her head back and blew out a puff of smoke. I marveled at the fact that her monstrous feather-and-ribbon-covered hat stayed on her head. I pitied whoever had had to sit behind her during the ceremony—bet they couldn’t see a thing.

I leaned close to Peter and lowered my voice. “When we were questioning Chaz earlier and you asked him why Letty ran from the altar, he looked at her.” I raised my brows at him.

Peter took a deep breath, then blew it out and gave me a gentle smile. “Good catch. Let’s go question her.”

I nodded my agreement, and the two of us and Daisy headed forward. The young woman looked up as we came around the corner of the castle and startled, her already buggy eyes even rounder. She pressed a hand to her chest and tittered. “Oh goddess, I thought you were my mother.”

I frowned. Her mother? Please, she was probably eight years younger than me. I crossed my arms and glared at her.

The young woman took another drag of the cigarette, then turned her head and blew it out in my direction. “She hates that I smoke.” She made eyes at Peter as I waved the smoke away, coughing.

Daisy scrunched up her nose and sneezed.

Yeah, I feel you, Days.

Peter cleared his throat. “I’m Officer Flint and this is—”

The girl didn’t wait