Peter and I backtracked and rejoined Daisy. Her big bushy tail wagged, and she pointed her black nose at a bush. Peter and I crouched beside her. A cluster of tiny red strawberries bobbed in the wind, just in front of her snout.
Peter and I exchanged grins.
“I bet Rachel picked a bunch of these on the pretense of having a picnic with Chaz and sent the berries to Joe Santos.”
Peter nodded. “Along with a note and a sack of money—bribing him to kill Letty.”
We rose and started back across the grounds, grasses and tree boughs swaying in the wind.
“We’ll wait for the writing samples to come back and confirm that Rachel wrote the note.”
I nodded—though in my gut, I had no doubt Rachel had sent the letter and berries to Joe. It seemed like just the kind of petty thing she’d go for.
“In the meantime, I say we go have a chat with Chaz.” Peter lit our way across the lawn with his wand.
20
SPIN
Chaz’s penthouse, the top floor of an ancient-looking stone inn, wasn’t far away. While the exterior was all stone and thatched roofing, the open-plan interior had been remodeled in a starkly modern way. Chaz motioned us to sit on a sleek white couch and curled his lip as Peter ruffled Daisy’s fur, tawny hairs fluttering onto the upholstery.
Peter cleared his throat as Chaz settled onto the sofa across from us and tugged the belt of his robe a little looser. His ginger hair stuck out at all angles, and bags hung under his eyes as if he hadn’t been sleeping. I softened a little toward the guy—maybe he had genuinely cared about Letty.
“Why didn’t you tell us about your fight with your mom and Rachel Harrington?”
Chaz’s bloodshot eyes widened for a moment before he shook his head and looked out the wall of windows to my left. The thick plaster wall had been knocked out and replaced with glass so that the penthouse had a sweeping view of the island and the rough sea beyond. Swanky.
Chaz sighed heavily and shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t think it was relevant.”
I scoffed. “Your wife’s murdered and you don’t think it’s relevant that your mother and the woman she wanted you to marry were conspiring together to get you to call off the wedding?”
Peter and I exchanged looks—mine disbelieving, his angry. A pink flush spread over his throat. “Now listen here, I’m getting tired of you and your family thinking you can withhold information. This is a police investigation of a murder.” Peter’s nostrils flared. “We will decide what is and is not relevant from now on.” He raised his brows. “Got it?”
Chaz’s expression darkened, but he gave a short nod. “Of course, Officer.”
I smirked, impressed with Peter. I mean, I was still waiting for a “gosh darn it,” but for him, that was pretty harsh. I gave him an approving nod, and his lips twitched toward a smile before he turned to face Chaz again.
“Why didn’t you tell us Letty was a shifter?”
He lifted a palm. “We’d sold the rights to her story to that magazine, La Mer. Have you seen the latest edition?” He picked up one of several copies from a stack on the coffee table between us.
I gave him a flat look. “Yeah. We saw, Chaz.”
He shrugged. “Well, we signed an agreement with La Mer that we wouldn’t announce it or talk about it publicly before the magazine came out.”
Peter heaved a sigh. “Again, this is a police investigation of a murder!”
Chaz blinked innocently at him.
“It trumps a nondisclosure with a magazine!” Peter splayed his hands, but Chaz just shrugged back.
“Oops?” He blinked. “I’ll know for next time.”
“Next time? You mean the next time you sell the rights to your wife’s life story and then she’s murder—” I waved a hand. “You know what, never mind.”
Man, this guy and his family were so out of touch with reality. I guess that’s what great fortune and privilege did. I frowned. Which made this guy the obvious choice for the position of councilor, representing the voice of the people of Bijou Mer. Speaking of which…
“It didn’t bother you, though? You’re running for office and come from a pretty conservative family.”
He nodded and slumped back against the pillows of the couch. They barely moved—guess these couches were more for show than comfort. I shifted in my seat—my left leg was going numb.
“I could see why you’d ask that. But no, I stood by Letty when she told me. I was shocked, yes, but I got over it.”
I glanced at Daisy, who merely watched him, a puzzled look on her face. She let out a pitiful whine. This is infuriating! I can’t smell anything! She lifted a paw and scratched at her snout.
“Was this before or after your parents hired the private investigator to look into her?” Peter watched Chaz intently for his reaction.
“I already knew before my parents came to me with that PI’s findings.” Chaz shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d already told Cybil, my campaign manager, and she’d assured me we could spin it to our favor.”
“Oh, phew.” I pretended to wipe sweat off my brow. “You’d hate to have your wife’s identity go and ruin your campaign.”
“Look, I loved her anyway—it wouldn’t have mattered.”
I leveled him with a get real look, but he held my gaze and I frowned a bit, uncertain. Either this guy had really fallen for Letty, or he’d make a great politician with that poker face.
Peter frowned. “Really? Her being a shifter didn’t bother you at all?”
He shrugged. “Shifters are underrepresented in Bijou Mer and are some of the hardest working among us. I, for one, don’t think we should penalize anyone for simply being born who they are.”
I crossed my arms and turned to Peter. “Hear, hear.” I’d hoped that was the way Peter would
