THE BODY
Chief McCray led the way through the mostly empty auditorium. Several officers moved among the rows of seats, evidence bags magically hovering beside them as they collected bits of paper and other things left behind by the crowd after Mama Pearl had collapsed onstage.
I shivered. Our footsteps echoed through the cavernous auditorium. It’d been packed with people and vibrating with energy just an hour before. Now it was, almost literally, dead.
“Have you all heard of Potent Potions?” McCray glanced back as we snaked across the auditorium floor in a single file line. She looked past Bon, Peter, and Daisy to me, in the rear. “I know you’re familiar with it, Miss Hartgrave, since you were attending the event of your own free will.” She climbed the steps to the stage, nodded her greeting to the officer posted by the stairs, then strode forward toward the body and the small crowd gathered around it.
“I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead,” she continued once I finished climbing the steps behind everyone else. “But I sincerely hope you’re not wrapped up in this scheme, are you?”
I couldn’t answer fast enough. “No way.”
The chief nodded, her short, winged blond hair bobbing. “Good, good.” We neared the woman sprawled out on the stage. The woman in the lab coat who’d first jumped on stage when Mama Pearl collapsed still hovered nearby, intently watching all the cops and techs who worked around the dead woman’s body. Mama Pearl still lay there, open eyes unseeing. I cringed and hung back for a moment. As a lawyer, I’d seen plenty of pictures of crime scenes, but I was still getting used to being around bodies.
McCray crossed her arms and leaned close, lowering her voice. “My cousin won’t shut up about the stuff. They claim their potions cure diseases, make you lose weight, help you sleep better, look more radiant, blah, blah, blah.” She rolled her eyes.
“There’s no end to the claims they make—not officially, of course, but many of their reps try to sell it that way. Take my cousin, for instance? She’s trying to tell me one drop of Blood Be Clean will cure me of my rabies from a childhood chimera bite. I mean, it’s been in remission for years anyway, but come on.” She scoffed.
I shot her a side-eye look. That was a little more information than I wanted.
Daisy trotted forward, and I raised a hand to block the bright overhead light that shone blindingly down on the stage. The reflection off the polished wood floor was almost as bad. The dog slid between two techs, one of whom magicked Mama Pearl’s bracelet off her wrist and floated it into an evidence pouch.
Daisy lowered her face to the body, her wet, black nose twitching. She suddenly recoiled, face scrunched up, and gagged. I stifled a smirk as she backed up and licked the roof of her mouth.
As she rejoined our little group, I crouched down beside her and quietly woofed. Yeah, Days, it’s a dead body—probably not gonna smell good.
She whipped her head around to face me and shot me a flat look. No, that’s not it. I’ve sniffed plenty of dead bodies.
I raised my brows and whined. Spoken like a true creep.
The dog scrunched up her nose and huffed. She reeks of lies.
I cocked my head and quietly barked. Well, she was the founder of a pyramid scheme, so… not surprised.
I frowned as I thought over what she’d said earlier. Hey—what did you mean about being worried about Peter?
Daisy’s brow furrowed. I don’t know what’s happening, but he’s been so upset. She turned her head to face me, dark eyes wide with concern, and whined, her tone full of horror. He poured my food into my water bowl the other day!
I glanced up at the cop in question and caught Peter staring. My face and neck flushed hot. I rose to my feet and nibbled the inside of my cheek—I’d have to wait to get the deets on Peter. I didn’t know what was weirder—the tension between him and me, or the fact that I was actually kind of getting along with Daisy.
The woman in the lab coat and glasses hovered behind a cop. The guy lifted Mama Pearl’s left hand, which was curled into a tight fist. He pried her pale, lifeless fingers open and took a glass vial from her hand. He held it to the light as the woman behind him watched, rapt.
“Chief! Inspector!”
We all moved closer to the cop who held the vial up in his gloved hand. The bright stage lights illuminated a few drops of glowing red liquid in the bottom. “There’s a bit of the potion she drank left.”
McCray nodded. “Fantastic. Have that sent back to the station and tested.”
The cop nodded and rose, carrying the vial off with him.
The woman in the lab coat rose on her toes and called after him. “Make sure to test it for sulfurs! Hey!” She started after him. “Make sure they calibrate the test—they can be hard to detect if—”
Inspector Bon slid in front of her, blocking her from following the cop. She stopped dead and looked the small man up and down. “Excuse me.”
Bon glowered at her. “Who are you?” He scowled at all the nearby cops. “Who is this woman? Why hasn’t she been sent into the lobby with the rest of the witnesses?”
The cops exchanged nervous looks, no one’s eyes meeting the inspector’s.
The woman stomped her stilettoed foot, and Bon’s attention snapped back to her. “I happen to be Opal Whitaker.” She lifted her chin and sniffed. “I demanded I be here to make sure poor Pearl’s body was treated with respect and all the evidence handled in the proper way.”
“Oh, did you now?” Bon looked her up and down. “I’ll ask again—who in the seas are you?!” His face turned
