“Oh my waves, she is soo cute.”
They bent forward, hands on thighs, and cooed at Daisy.
“Aren’t you just the cutest?”
“Uh.” Peter shifted on his feet, his cheeks burning pink. “She’s actually working and—”
Daisy, apparently unable to take it any longer, threw her head back and howled. I hate it! I hate wearing clothes! The indignity of it!
The women jumped back, eyes wide, and hurried off, clutching each other. The diners at the tables nearest us grew quiet and shot us worried looks.
I raised my brows at the dog and whined. Nice one, Daisy.
She bared her teeth and growled. I’ll rip that stupid jacket right off of you and—
I held out my arms, the sleeves drooping over my hands. Be my guest. You think I’m enjoying this?
Peter loudly cleared his throat, and Daisy and I turned to look up at him. “We’re, uh, creating a bit of a scene.” He lifted his chin. “I see Rachel in the back….”
I swept an arm forward, my hand hidden inside the tweed jacket. “Lead the way.”
As we threaded between tables draped in fine linens toward the wall of windows that looked out over the grassy grounds of the club, Daisy and I shot each other dirty looks behind Peter’s back. We passed an enormous stone fireplace, crackling with warmth, and on a low stage at the far wall, a lute player strummed his instrument, the soft melody creating a tranquil mood. One that Daisy and I had inadvertently been doing our best to disrupt.
Peter led the way to a small table near the windows with a view of the terrace and all its swaying lanterns. Rachel flipped her strawberry blond locks over her shoulder and laughed along with two other young ladies seated at the table. Her friends spotted us first and sobered up. Rachel turned frowning toward us, then glowered when she recognized us.
“Oh, hello, Officer and… company.” She raised a brow and blinked her buggy eyes, impatient. “Can I help you, or…?”
Peter squared his shoulders. “We need to ask you a few more questions.”
“Well, then.” She turned to her friends. “Ladies, why don’t you hit the sauna, and I’ll come and join you in a few.”
The women shot us concerned looks but rose and moved off. Peter and I took seats around the square table and Daisy lowered to her haunches so she practically sat on Peter’s shiny black shoes.
Rachel lounged back in her chair, knees crossed. “So what’s this about, hm?”
Peter watched her for a moment. “Why did Chaz blame you when Letty ran from the altar?”
She smirked and looked away. “Oh, that?” She flipped a hand. “It might have been a couple of things.”
Soft lute music floated over the murmur of the crowd in the dining room.
I leaned forward. “Such as?”
“Well…” She raised her brows and played with the hem of her skirt. “It might have been from my showing up at the wedding.”
I frowned. “Why? You said you’ve been friends with the family for ages.” I smirked. “Weren’t you invited?”
Her gummy smile faded, and her lips pinched together. “Chaz disinvited me the night before, if you must know.”
I scoffed. “Well, those two are the police, so yeah, they kind of must know.”
She glared at me.
“Why did he disinvite you?” That crease appeared between Peter’s brows.
She shrugged. “Who knows?”
Peter and I both reflexively glanced at Daisy, who just whined.
I don’t know… smells like… She sneezed, and Rachel recoiled.
“Ew. Is your dog sick?”
Peter cleared his throat. “If you had to guess?”
She sniffed and flipped her long hair. “I suspect his bride made him do it. She was such a fragile, insecure thing. She was probably jealous of the longstanding connection Chaz and I had.” She blinked at Peter, a smug smile on her face.
“So.” I drummed my fingers on the white tablecloth. “If he disinvited you, why were you there?”
She licked her lips. “Chaz’s mother, Marcy, heard about that and insisted I come. She adores me.”
I looked at Peter and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I suppose a wedding crasher could be pretty annoying.”
Peter leaned toward her. “What’s the other reason you can think of?”
She pinched her lips together but looked like she was fighting a smirk. “Letty might have been a bit upset at my fashion choices.”
I frowned and thought back to her outfit the other night. She’d been wearing that insane hat—which might have driven anyone to run quickly in the other direction. She’d had on a dress and—
I shot her a flat look. “The mink stole?”
Rachel gave a sly smile and shrugged in a way that told me it was exactly why Chaz had gotten upset with her. I gave the thin socialite a harder look. Was Letty a mink shifter? If so, did that mean Rachel knew?
Peter looked from me, back to Rachel. “Was Letty into animal rights?”
Her lip curled. “You could say that.”
When we didn’t say anything, she rolled her eyes. “You haven’t seen it yet, have you?” She dug around in her large, designer bag and pulled out a thick, glossy magazine—La Mer, one of the top magazines in the Kingdoms for fashion and politics.
17
LA MER MAGAZINE
Rachel tossed the magazine onto the table in front of Peter, and I leaned over to get a better look. Several people adorned the cover in a magically moving photograph. I recognized a few—there was Chaz and Letty, hand in hand, and beside them, Sam Snakeman, the prominent shifter and monster rights activist.
A headline read:
Attitudes in the Kingdoms are Shifting.
I rolled my eyes at the pun but reached across Peter and pulled the magazine closer. I flipped through until I found the relevant article. It appeared to be profiling several prominent people fighting for shifter rights, including Chaz and Letty. I scanned the article—she was coming out publicly as a shifter. Wow.
I glanced up at Peter, then read a line.
“Candidate for Bijou Mer Councilor, Chaz Harrington, says he’s proud to be marrying bride-to-be Letty Jones and even prouder to help serve
