I nodded and followed him around a curving stone wall. We ducked into the castle through an arched medieval door, and Peter nodded his greetings at a few cops we passed. He headed down a short hallway and stopped outside an open door with a cop posted on either side.
Peter turned to face me and lowered his voice. “I should warn you, I’m told the victim is from the Darkmoon District.” His deep blue eyes searched my face. “You might know her.”
I frowned. What was a gal from the Darkmoon doing at a wedding like this? Most of the time, being from the Darkmoon and attending a wedding meant you should be prepared for at least one brawl to break out, and fancy attire meant shoes were not optional.
I gave Peter a nod to go ahead, and he turned and led the way into the room. Half a dozen cops bustled about the small space, gathering evidence and taking photographs of the body sprawled out on the rug in a cloud of white lace and gauze.
I froze and blinked at Peter. “Our victim’s the bride?”
BRIDAL SUITE
Peter nodded, that troubled crease still between his brows. “According to the witnesses we’ve interviewed so far, the bride got ready in here.”
I edged closer to Peter and the little sitting area made up of two plush armchairs and a small table between them. The bride lay sprawled in front of a gold vanity with a toppled stool and large, oval mirror. A single small window stood propped open near the top of the stone wall. Cool air seeped in, and I shivered, balling my hands into fists inside my jacket pockets.
“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
