He huffed. “We ended it before I proposed to Elin, okay?”
“Oh, well, that makes it better.” I shot him a flat look. “That was like a week ago?”
He scowled at me and Peter. “What is this? Is that a crime or something? Is this what you’re here to ask me about?” He shot another frightened look toward the balcony where Elin sipped her wine, just her slippered feet visible where they rested propped up on the other chair. The rest of her was hidden behind gauzy white curtains.
Peter cleared his throat. “While morally reprehensible, no—it’s not a crime.”
Lorenzo’s shoulders relaxed.
“But it does give you a motive to murder Polly.”
“What?!” Lorenzo nearly launched out of his seat.
“Everything okay, baby?” Elin called from the balcony.
Her fiancé called back that it was and then glared at us. “What are you talking about?” He’d dropped his voice back to nearly a whisper.
“We’re talking about the fact that Tonya told you her mother was aware of the affair and insisting that she tell Elin about it.” I raised my brows. “Looks like you two live a pretty posh life here. If Tonya or Polly told your fiancée about the affair, she’d dump you and you’d lose your access to all the finer things in life.”
Peter splayed his hands. “Did you kill Polly to keep your secret from Elin?”
“No!” Lorenzo gaped at us, then shook his head. “This is crazy.” He dragged his hands through his dark hair.
Daisy wagged her bushy tail, scattering hair all over the pristine white carpet. I could’ve kissed her. True.
Maybe not—there went our theory. Unless…
I raised a brow. “Maybe you killed Polly so that Elin and Tonya would inherit the bakery. Once you married Elin, that would make you even richer.” I shrugged. “Maybe you’re planning to kill Tonya next? That way, she could never spill about your affair and you and Elin would own the whole bakery.”
Lorenzo huffed. “This—this is absolutely crazy. I didn’t kill Polly—period.” He pointed at Peter. “I may be a cheater, but I’m not a killer.”
I held my breath as I waited for Daisy’s reaction. She whined—true.
I slumped back on the sofa. Man—these two seemed so suspicious, and we’d struck out with both of them… and Tonya!
We took our leave, and I followed Peter out of the apartment. I threw up my hands. “Well, there goes our top theory.”
Peter grinned and slid his arm around me as we walked back down the cobblestone streets. “Hey, there’s still the ex and, of course, Mimi Moulin, rival baker.”
I reached up and squeezed his hand where it dangled over my shoulder. “You always manage to make me feel better.”
He grinned—then sobered.
“What?”
His throat bobbed. “We need to head down to the Darkmoon to question both of them.” That little crease appeared between his brows.
Oh—the Darkmoon. I nodded. “I know you’re thinking that Ludolf has it out for me and that it’s not a good idea for me to head into the Darkmoon where I’ll be recognized—but I’ll be safe if I’m with you and Daisy.”
Peter nodded and we continued on—but he drew his wand and held it tightly at his side.
26
MIMI MOULIN
While Mimi’s bakery wasn’t much to look at, especially in comparison to Polly Pierre’s cute as a button place, the heavenly smells wafting out the open door more than made up for its appearance. The place was located on a corner in the Darkmoon at the intersection of two streets lined with food carts and stalls. Even though there were plenty of options for hungry shoppers to buy pastries, the line for Mimi’s wound out the door and around the side of the crumbling brick building.
Breads and pastries lay stacked on rolling carts in front of the windows, showing off that night’s goods. I lifted my nose as we bypassed the line, earning us some dirty looks, and took in a deep whiff of dark chocolate, bread, and vanilla. My mouth watered.
Daisy woofed. You’re drooling.
I shot her a flat look and whined as we stepped inside. You’re one to talk.
The fluorescent lighting flickered overhead, the floors were chipped and stained, and the hairs at the base of my neck immediately began to curl from the heat and humidity. Still—the place felt warm and homey.
Mimi had an eclectic staff. The guy with the green hair who’d been part of her team in the competition was behind the glass counter, working the register. He stood beside two girls, one with a shaved head, the other sporting a healthy variety of tattoos and piercings.
The guy with the green hair waved the next customer forward as the one he’d just rung up headed out with a hefty white paper bag full of goodies. “Hi, Mr. Hennison. The usual?”
The customer at the front of the line chuckled. “Of course.” He leaned over as the worker bustled about, magicking a donut and a few sweet rolls into the white bag he was holding. “How are the pumpkin chocolate muffins?”
The guy with the green hair lifted a brow. “Do you have to ask? Mimi made them herself.”
“Oh.” The older guy, Mr. Hennsion, rubbed his palms together, a gleam in his eye. “Well, then, I’ll take two—no, make it three. I think my granddaughter would enjoy that.”
I grinned. I had a feeling Mimi had a lot of regulars. After Mr. Hennison was rung up, Peter politely murmured to the next customer in line and we cut in front.
The guy with the green hair raised his brows. “Um—we cannot have a dog in here, and you’re going to have to go to the back of the line.”
“Sorry about Daisy, but she’s my partner.”
The guy crossed his arms and shook his head. “You’re going to get us shut down by the food and safety bureau, and that’ll mean none of these people in line get their baked goods.”
Oof! If looks could kill. The entire line scowled at us. I leaned close to Peter and lowered
