Her throat bobbed, and she lifted her pointed chin. “Not initially, but Chaz told me recently.”
Peter crossed his arms, and Daisy watched her, head tilted. “That didn’t bother you? You didn’t think it’d hurt Chaz’s chances of winning the election?”
I grinned—good thinking, Peter. Maybe the campaign manager had seen Letty as a threat and tried to take her out. I glanced at the magazine—the lobster was out of the cage on that secret, though.
She huffed and looked around the crowded lobby, then inched closer and lowered her voice. “Look, when Chaz hired me, I told him that initial polls showed changing attitudes on the island.” She lifted a palm. “With the old king convicted of crimes in the monster wars, the public is now favoring more people of the people types.” She shrugged. “Normal voters found Chaz stuffy, unrelatable, and off-putting. So I encouraged him to court Letty—to boost his ranking in the polls. It’d show he could relate to the lower tiers, to working-class folk.”
Peter and I exchanged looks, and I turned back to Cybil. “Wow. A real love story for the ages.” I narrowed my eyes. “So you encouraged Chaz to use Letty for his own gain. How did she feel about all of this?”
She pressed her lips tight together, her cheeks flushed pink. “Please. She was gaining fame, fortune, and wouldn’t have to work another day in her life.”
I shook my head at her. “A real win-win.”
She sniffed and lifted her nose in the air. Her blond bob fell back over her shoulders. “It was. Look, getting Chaz elected is my job, and no matter what is thrown at me, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he wins. Frankly, once I found out the truth about Letty, I realized that Chaz being with a shifter would only help garner him the poor and alienated vote we needed. It made him seem progressive, while with his family connections he, of course, kept the backing of the elite.”
I took a step closer to her. “And will having a murdered wife boost his ratings?”
She scoffed. “Oh, definitely.”
I looked to Peter, then we both glared at her.
She shrank back. “Erp. I mean…”
I raised my brows and tapped a finger to my lips. “And didn’t you just say you’d do anything to make sure Chaz won?”
She opened her mouth, eyes wide, then closed it again. “I—I didn’t—” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t—”
Peter reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and handed her his card. She stared at it, bewildered.
“We’ll need a writing sample to compare to the letter Joe Santos received.”
“L—letter?” She blinked up at Peter.
He nodded. “And don’t leave the island.”
Her throat bobbed, and she snapped her mouth shut. I grinned as we turned our backs on her and headed toward the exit. I slid my borrowed jacket off, and Peter bent low and helped Daisy pull one leg at a time out of hers.
I tossed mine on the counter and glared at the head snob who’d made me wear it in the first place. “Thanks for the loaner. I’ve got this medical condition—makes me sweat uncontrollably. You’ll want to get that cleaned.”
His lip curled in disgust. Peter set Daisy’s blazer beside my coat, and I tapped the fabric. “And you made a dog wear this one, and she’s a real shedder, so good luck.”
As we headed back out into the night, Peter led the way back to the Harringtons’ estate. I ticked suspects off on my fingers. “So Joe Santos had motive—he was still in love with Letty and she’d rejected him the night before her wedding.”
Peter nodded. “He might have killed out of jealousy and had access to her food.”
I lifted another finger. “Cybil might have done it to gain Chaz sympathy points and secure the election. It could also have been Rachel, who clearly wanted to be in Letty’s shoes up there on the altar. Or maybe Chaz’s own parents took out the bride after the private eye undoubtedly uncovered that Letty was a shifter.” I shook my head and let out a heavy sigh. “Poor Letty—she was up against a lot.”
19
DIG UP DIRT
“Fine!” Mrs. Harrington pinched the bridge of her nose and pressed her pink, swollen eyes shut. She sniffled and pressed a kerchief to her red nose. Judging by the pile of kerchiefs on the couch beside her and the nearly empty bottle of red wine, she’d been at this for a while.
She waved a hand. “The private eye found out Letty was a shifter and was demanding more money from us to keep it under wraps.”
“Marcy!” Mr. Harrington rose from his wingback chair in the library. He snatched a glass of golden potion off the mantle and paced in front of the fireplace, swigging it down.
I flashed my eyes at Peter. Were the Harringtons finally processing Letty’s death? Had they actually cared about her?
Mrs. Harrington sucked in a shuddering breath, then sobbed and buried her face in her kerchief. When she looked up again, her eyes shone with tears. “Can you imagine how we felt when we found out she was a shifter?!” She spat the last word.
I shot her a flat look. “The horror.” Guess this display of grief wasn’t mourning for Letty.
Daisy whined. What’s wrong with her?
I brought a fist to my mouth and disguised a bark as a cough. You’d be surprised, Daisy, how many bigots are actually quite sensitive.
She snapped her gaze back at Mrs. Harrington, who threw her hand out at the latest edition of La Mer on the table between us. “And now this? My goddess, do you know what I’m going to face at the country club? This is a nightmare.” She downed the rest of her glass of wine, then reached out and took a long swig right from the bottle.
Peter’s eyes widened.
Mr. Harrington moved to a cart of crystal decanters in the corner and made himself another drink.
