I nodded, a gentle grimace on my face. “Must be that.” My eyes slid to the furry beast on my right. She glared up at me, lips peeling back from her teeth. I quietly woofed at her. Didn’t realize dogs could be racists. Today I learned.
She let out a low growl. I’m not racist! You’re a shifter and you’re lying to Peter, I can smell it!
I scoffed and shook my head. It was fascinating to me how people, including dog people apparently, could justify their hatred of shifters by claiming we were all liars. As if we had any choice but to conceal our true natures from a society that would despise us if we were open about it? They make you a monster, then have the gall to call you one.
Daisy and I followed Peter through a dark, narrow entryway. The officer held his wand aloft and took careful, quiet steps. I glanced down at the dog, ready to make some retort, when I suddenly slammed into Peter’s back.
I rubbed the tip of my nose. “Ow.” I opened my mouth to ask him why he’d stopped, then followed his gaze through the doorway to my left. It led to a small kitchen with a table in the corner. Zozanna sat slumped in one of the chairs, face down on the table, her dark hair scattered everywhere.
Daisy barked, which made me jump. Then barked again and again, the tawny hair on the back of her neck raised. She’s dead!
29
THE TEA
As Peter paced in the entryway and called in backup from the station, I slid past Daisy into the kitchen. A bright pink kettle with a white daisy painted on the side rested on the stovetop. I spun around and pointed at it.
“Woof grrr.” Look, Daisy, it’s your namesake. Adorable. Just like you. I winked.
She bared her teeth and snarled, though she didn’t leave the doorway or Peter’s side. I’m going to bite your neck and shake you like a rag doll.
I raised my brows. Wow, Daisy. Just… wow.
I walked away, shaking my head, and stood a bit back from the dead Zo. A pink teacup rested on a saucer beside her head, and I curled my lip, grateful I didn’t have to see her face. I shuddered. Even thinking about it gave me the heebie-jeebies.
I edged a little closer and scrunched my nose. “Ew. Pungent.”
I plucked off the lid of the teapot beside her and peered down at the liquid inside. Loose, dark green leaves floated on the surface. They smelled… strong. That was probably the kindest descriptor I could think of.
I pulled my lips to the side and leaned into one hip. Though oddly familiar, too. Where had I smelled this before?
“Find anything?”
I glanced behind me as Peter stepped over the threshold into the tight, but tidy kitchen.
I pointed at the teapot. “Smell that.”
His lips twitched as though he were about to grin, but he came up beside me, dutifully lowered his face, and inhaled. No steam wafted off the liquid, which meant it’d gone cold a while ago. He made a face as he quickly straightened.
“Ugh.”
I nodded. “Right? Where have we smelled that before?”
“Not sure….” Peter reached past me and lifted a silver tin from the table. He opened the lid and found a small, rolled-up scroll inside on top of the shredded green tea leaves.
I edged closer and read over his shoulder as he unfurled it.
HI SWEETUMS!
Hope you enjoy the special tea and think of me.
XOXO Turkie
I RAISED A BROW. “SWEETUMS, HUH?”
Peter made a noise in the back of his throat. “How about Turkie?”
I grinned for a moment, then my smile faded as I looked from the note to the dead brunette facedown on the table. “Zo and Turk were having an affair.” I looked up at Peter and had to crane my neck. “Maybe Turk killed her to keep her from talking?” I shrugged. “He seemed pretty freaked about Millie finding out.”
“Unless.” Peter tipped his head. “It wasn’t from Turk at all.”
I arched a brow and swept a hand toward the dead girl. “Uh, I think she’d have noticed if someone else gave it to her.”
Peter lifted a brown box off the table and turned it over until we found the label. The package had been delivered to Zo, but the return address was for Turk’s home. So a courier had delivered this—Zo wouldn’t have known if someone besides Turk had actually mailed it.
Peter hiked his brows. “A little too obvious, right? You poison someone and leave a note from yourself with your return address?”
I had to give him that. “Yeah, I mean, Turk’s stupid but…” I grimaced. “That stupid?”
He gave the box a little shake. “It could have been from anyone.”
I tapped the teapot. “Anyone with poison tea?” I snapped my fingers and hopped to face Peter fully. “The tea! I remember where I smelled it!”
Peter snapped his own fingers, coming to the realization a moment later. “The botanist!”
I nodded. “I smelled it in his shop.” Though… something else tugged at the back of my mind. Had I smelled it somewhere else, too?
Peter paced the small kitchen, tossing the empty cardboard box between his hands. “The botanist grows this stuff, has no alibi—maybe he’s just targeting everyone who works at the office, since they’d each turned on the sign at night for their own reasons.”
I jumped as the front door banged open and several officers strode in, led by a shortish man in the blue Bijou Mer police uniform. He scowled around at the place, then glared at Peter.
“Well, Officer Flint, you’ve really done it this time.” He broke into a slow clap, and the officers behind him exchanged looks.
“Does he want us to join him?” one whispered.
I bit back a grin.
“Inspector.” Peter gave a slight bow.
“Guess who I just spoke with?” The inspector raised his
