I felt the burn of anger flare in my chest. The lawyer in me woke up and wanted to get justice for her. I pointed at her. “You know that’s not legal?”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t surprise me. But who’s going to do anything about it?”
I frowned. “Is that why you organized the protests?”
She nodded. “Well, sort of. I attended the protest because I couldn’t think of any other way of letting people know that what they’re doing at Potent Potions isn’t right.”
I thought it over. I couldn’t step in to help—no judge would rule in favor of a client represented by a shifter—but maybe I could refer her to someone who could. I smirked as I thought of Eve, my old coworker who’d cursed me and ended up with my ex-fiancé. She’d recently apologized, but still—the girl owed me one.
“You have a quill and scroll?”
Peter looked at me, surprised.
Carolyn nodded, then rose and dug around in a kitchen drawer till she found them. She brought them back to me, and I ripped off a bit of parchment and scribbled out the name of my old law firm and Eve’s name. I handed her the info, plus her feather quill and scroll back. “Tell her Jolene Hartgrave sent you and that she owes me one. Then tell her what you told me.”
Carolyn’s brows pinched together as she read my note, then she looked up at me. “Thank you.”
I waved a hand and sank back into the couch. “I hope you sue ’em for all they’re worth.” I couldn’t stand people who preyed on those in a less fortunate situation, people desperate for a better life. Growing up an orphaned shifter in the Darkmoon District, I knew what feeling low was like and how hard it was to even allow yourself to dream, much less take steps to realize that dream.
I felt for Carolyn—she’d taken that chance, only to be duped by selfish, greedy scammers. I didn’t blame her for being glad Pearl was dead—but it still begged the question of who killed her? Peter still didn’t have the official report back, but given the sudden nature of her death on stage, I thought we could safely assume it wasn’t natural causes.
Carolyn shook her head again and tucked the slip of paper I’d given her into the pocket of her sweater. “Again, thank you.” She cocked her head as she studied me. “You’re not the one who sent me the letter, are you?”
I frowned. “What letter?”
Carolyn shrugged. “Me and the other protestors, we received anonymous letters saying we all had reasons to have beef with the company. It’s what brought us together and got us organized. The letters even tipped us off to the location of the big annual summit.”
She smirked, though her eyes remained flat. “We all got excommunicated as soon as we spoke out, even the tiniest amount, about what was going on. I thought all those women were my best friends, but they all just cut me off like that.” She snapped her fingers. “If it weren’t for the letters, we’d have all assumed we were alone.”
Peter shifted in his seat. “Let me get this straight—you didn’t organize the protest? That was set up by the writer of these anonymous letters?”
She nodded, and Peter and I exchanged looks. Now, this was intriguing. And Peter had looked at me, so—progress on all fronts!
“We believe you didn’t kill Pearl Litt, but do you know who might have? Maybe one of your fellow protestors?” Peter raised his dark brows. “I know you may have felt her death was justified, but murder still needs to have consequences.”
Carolyn glared. “Yeah? So does cheating people of their life savings!” She shook her head. “But how long have you got? That company’s scammed thousands of women; most are just afraid to speak up. Any of them could have wanted to kill Pearl.” She smirked. “And no, I don’t know of any specific plans by fellow protestors, but to be honest, I wouldn’t tell you even if I did. Like I said—Pearl got what she deserved.”
Daisy’s tail wagged. She’s telling the truth.
We rose and thanked Carolyn for her time. On our way out, I turned and reminded her to contact Eve.
She nodded. “Thank you, again.” The briefest of tight smiles flashed on her face before she closed and locked the door behind us.
18
POISONED
Peter, Daisy and I headed back into the cool night. Bats winged overhead, squeaking as they passed in front of the misty moon. I leaned against a crumbling brick wall as Peter paced in front of me, Daisy following on his heels.
“So…” I crossed my arms. “Where to next?”
A line creased the space between Peter’s brows—his thinking line. “Someone high up in the company had to have sent those letters.”
I raised a brow. “The ones to Carolyn and the other protestors?”
He nodded and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Who else would have had access to the names and addresses of women who’d spoken out against the company? Were there a lot of them?”
I thought back to the glimpse I’d gotten of them the other night. “Yeah…, at least forty, I’d say.”
Peter nodded and continued to pace, the heels of his scuffed shoes clicking on the broken cobblestones. I frowned—normally his shoes were so shiny they reflected the moonlight. The guy was clearly going through something—could he really be that torn up about me being a shifter?
“Yeah, I’d say it has to be someone high up in the company then.”
I bit my lip as I thought over the people we’d met. Peyton was just a high-up consultant—I doubted she’d have access to that many women’s names and information. There was Ralph—why would he want to organize a protest against his own company? Unless he wanted to cause a distraction and pin the blame on them
