The prince nodded, his eyes alight. “Slow, even with the files we managed to take, but we’re making good progress. The healers expect some breakthroughs in the next few days.”
Peter nodded. “I imagine some potions take time to brew.”
The prince lifted a palm. “Exactly.”
“Sorry.” I shot Peter a sheepish grin, then made introductions.
“Nice to meet you, Officer Flint.” The princess winked at me and mouthed, “He’s cute.”
Iggy thumbed a flaming hand at her. “Captain Subtlety over here.”
I grinned up at Peter and sucked on my lips. It was true—he was pretty cute.
Peter shot the prince a concerned look. “Any news about Sam Snakeman?”
The prince and princess exchanged downcast looks, and the prince shook his head. Apparently Amelia and Kenta had been wallpapering the island in “missing pet snake” posters, but they hadn’t had any leads yet.
“Well, not any real leads,” Iggy piped up from the lantern with a devious grin.
The prince blushed, and the princess made a face, then spoke out of the side of her mouth. “We’ve received quite a few notices from men who claim to have the snake we’re looking for.”
Peter lifted a quizzical brow.
“Imogen—why are there so many snakes out there with only one eye?” Iggy blinked innocently at her until she shook her head and he devolved into cackles.
Peter’s face turned bright red. “Oh. Oh, no.”
The princess nodded seriously. “You always underestimate how gross the public is.” She shrugged.
We thanked them again for all their help and then headed over to the police station. It felt good to know Will, Heidi, and all the shifters were safe and that cures were on the way.
I just hoped it’d be soon enough to stop Ludolf before he hurt me or the people I cared about. After I’d foiled his goon’s attempt to hurt Sam during the rally and then broken into his potions lair and stolen his files, I was pretty sure the mob boss of the shifters would be gunning for me.
22
POLICE STATION
The police station, normally busy, was downright chaotic. I chalked it up to the recent near riot, assassination attempt on Sam Snakeman, and, of course, the murder of Polly Pierre at the royal baking competition.
Edna, the station manager, sat at the front desk with one finger pressed to the communication device in her ear. She was shaking her head and snapping her fingers at a young officer. The cop finally turned around, and Edna mouthed, with her bright pink lips, “Records! Records!”
The officer’s eyes widened, and she turned around and headed in the correct direction as Edna slumped back into her seat. She shuffled stacks of papers while talking to the person on the other end of the device.
“Yes, I understand, ma’am, but we’re short-staffed right now. Yes, even the police can be short-staffed, and we simply can’t help your grandson get his hand out of the cookie jar. Try an unsticking spell.”
She yanked the device out of her ear and looked up at us, exasperated. “Go away.” Her eyes widened behind her purple cat glasses as she took us in. “Oh! Peter, doll, Jolene, toots.” She leaned over to ruffle the fur on Daisy’s head. “And my little puppy pumpkin!” She blew out a breath. “It’s been absolutely nuts, a real sinkhole tonight. Please tell me no one else has died.”
Peter grinned. “Anything we can help with, Edna?”
She reached over and patted his cheek, her fingers stacked with gaudy rings and the bangles at her wrist jangling. “You’re such a doll. No— Oh!” She pointed behind her. “Russo’s waiting for you in evidence.”
Peter nodded. “Thanks, Edna.”
I winked at her. “Good luck.”
Daisy reluctantly peeled herself away from Edna’s pets and trotted along beside us as we ducked under flying stacks of paperwork and threaded between the metal desks and bustling cops to the evidence room. Normally, a mustached cop sat outside the evidence locker, but tonight just a clipboard with a sign-in sheet sat at his empty desk.
I raised my brows. “Guess it’s all hands on deck, huh?”
Peter nodded, signed us in, and then we stepped through the spelled gate to the shelves littered with evidence. We snaked through until we spotted Russo, the tall rookie cop. He pushed his square glasses up his nose and grinned, waving us over.
We said our hellos, and Peter planted his hand on the table. “Alright, what’s this evidence you have for us?”
Russo rubbed his palms together, eyes eager. A cardboard box sat on the table in front of him. “First, did you hear about Frank Hemlock?”
I squinted, the name ringing a bell…. “Oh!” I frowned. “The bossy dude from the baking competition?”
Russo nodded and absentmindedly scratched Daisy’s head. Her black nose twitched as she sniffed his pants leg. “Yep. He got his team kicked out for cheating.”
I smirked and leaned closer. “Ooh, do tell.” This sounded juicy—it was possible Madeline L’Orange was rubbing off on me.
Russo licked his lips and splayed his palms. “Get this—he was sprinkling seasonings on other teams’ bakes that made the food taste bad.”
Peter folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Some people….”
I scoffed. “So if he was sprinkling seasonings on others’ bakes, then maybe he could’ve sprinkled a little poison into Polly’s tea?”
Russo raised his brows and nodded, but Peter tipped his head to the side, looking less convinced. “I don’t know—if you killed someone, why draw further suspicion to yourself by cheating? And getting caught?”
I leaned into one hip. “Good point.” I lifted a palm. “Besides, he told us he didn’t kill Polly, and Daisy confirmed.” I lifted a brow as I looked at the tawny fur ball. “And we all know Daisy’s always right.”
She glanced my way and wagged her tail. True.
I narrowed my eyes—I’d have sworn she somehow understood me.
Peter looked down at the cardboard box on the table between us and Russo. “So about this evidence…?”
“Right!” Russo yanked the lid off and pulled out a red leather
