He slumped down to sit on a crate by the restaurant’s door and scoffed. “I have some guesses. Top of the list is that witch, Rachel Whitmore.”
I frowned. “Why her?” I’d assumed he was going to name Chaz.
He flashed his eyes at us. “Well, for one, after Letty ran from the altar, Chaz glared at Rachel and yelled ‘Look what you did!’”
Peter glared at Joe. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of all this?”
Joe shrugged. “Well, I couldn’t exactly tell you about the note without looking pretty guilty, right?” He shook his head. “And as for the Rachel thing, most of the guests are probably too scared of what little miss socialite will do to their standing if they speak out against her.”
Peter set his jaw. “We’ll see what the tests say about the food you prepared. In the meantime, don’t go anywhere.” He turned to go but stopped and pivoted on his heel. “Oh—and I’ll need that sack of merkles, too.”
Joe sighed, then waved his wand, and the sack appeared in Peter’s hand. He scooped up the note and the strawberries and stalked off into the night. I cast one last look at the dejected Joe, then jogged to catch up with Peter and Daisy.
“Guess I know who we’re going to be talking to next.” I waggled my brows at Peter.
He huffed and stomped down the wet cobblestones. “It’s shocking how many people will lie just because they can get away with it.” He glanced down at Daisy. “Everything's so much harder without her.”
I grinned. I couldn’t say I was shocked that people would lie, cheat, and steal and get away with as much as they could—but I liked that Peter had enough optimism to still be surprised by it.
I gulped as I trailed slightly behind. I still needed to talk to him about Ludolf and the bind I was in with him cursing me and now testing cures on me. If Peter thought Letty’s situation was shocking, how would he react to my news?
16
ANIMAL RIGHTS
Peter, Daisy, and I strode into the posh country club on one of the upper tiers of the island. We’d stopped by Rachel’s flat first and been informed by her butler (what twentysomething-year-old had a butler?) that we could find her at the club. The two-story entryway reminded me of the lobby of a fancy hotel, all gleaming marble floors, soft lighting, and lush potted plants.
“Ahem.”
We three stopped and glanced to the left. A tall, thin man in a trim blue suit raised a sharp brow. He shot us a simpering smile. “Are you members?” His tone implied he knew quite well that we weren’t.
We moved over to the tall desk, and Peter flashed his gold badge. “We’re here on police matters.”
The man’s nostrils flared as he looked Daisy and me up and down, a disdainful curl to his lip. “And these two are…?”
I crossed my arms and shot him a flat look. “She’s a canine officer”—I tipped my head toward Daisy who took that opportunity to cough, then gag—“and I’m a police consultant.”
“I see.” He scribbled something on a piece of parchment, then pointedly set down his quill and laced his fingers together on the countertop. “You, sir, may enter, but as for these two…” His gaze drifted back to Daisy and me. “We have a strict jacket policy.”
I smirked. “Yeah, okay.”
He simply blinked back at me, and I frowned up at Peter. “He can’t be serious.” I turned back to the concierge de snobbery and tugged at my quilted bomber jacket. “Looks like I’m wearing a jacket to me.”
He sniffed. “How droll. No, we require sports coats, madam.” He gestured at a wooden cupboard behind him and opened the door, revealing a rack of oversized blazers. “We have some for loan if you simply must enter; otherwise, you may wait outside.”
I raised my brows, anger flushing hot up my throat. Just who did this guy think he was? “Oh, I may wait outside, might I?” I scoffed, thinking of the thrashing winds and sideways rain. “How generous of you.”
He smirked.
Peter frowned. “Women have to wear sports coats too?”
The thin man arched a sharp brow. “Typically our female members opt for dresses and heels, but barring that, suit coats are also acceptable.’”
“Fine.” I made a grabby hand. “Give me the jacket. And one for the dog, too.”
He paled. “You’re not serious.”
Peter looked between the country club guy and me, his cheeks tight like he was fighting a grin.
I raised my brows. “Oh—deadly serious. If jackets are required, we’ll wear the shell out of them.”
Twin pink spots burned on the man’s cheeks, but he simply pressed his lips into a thin line. “Very well.”
I smirked. “Sure hope you’ve got a good dry cleaner.” I thumbed at Daisy, who watched me with eyes narrowed. “You’re gonna need it to get the dog smell out of that blazer.”
A minute later, Peter, Daisy, and I walked into the dining room of the country club. I shrugged and tried to adjust the ridiculously large sports coat that jellyfish at the front had picked out for me. The wool tweed made my neck itch, and I’d had to roll the sleeves four times before my fingers even poked out the openings.
“I look ridiculous.”
Daisy, whose front legs stuck through the sleeves of a black blazer, glared at me and growled. I bet you think this is funny?
I let out a couple of quiet woofs. Not at all. In fact, we both look so good, I thought we might have some portraits taken? Maybe make it into a calendar? We’ll call it “Pets and Their Psychics in Sports Coats.” Who wouldn’t buy that?
Her ears flattened, and at that moment, two young women decked out in pearls and heels sauntered up to Peter.
“Is
