I plucked it up and held it in the air, trying to get the attention of no one in particular. “Refill at table eight!”
Peter lightly put a hand on my arm and guided the glass back down to the table. “I’m happy to get you another drink but—erm—”
I raised a brow at him. Was he about to suggest I didn’t need another? If he knew the extent of the night I was having, I was sure he’d approve. I squinted. If only his face would stop being so blurry and shifty.
He scooted closer. “You’ve barely touched your food.”
I glanced down at my full plate. Yeah. That was pretty unlike me. Guess I could understand where his concern was coming from, since he’d literally seen me raid a dead woman’s pantry, and here was a veritable feast in front of me and I couldn’t stomach it.
Daisy snorted, and the woman next to her scooted her chair further away. What’s wrong, shifter? Usually you’d be stuffing your face full.
I glared at her. Oh, Daisy. Tonight is not the night to mess with me.
Peter squeezed my arm. “The ceremony is starting.” He lifted his chin, and I followed his gaze to the podium on the raised stage at the back of the room. Chief Jack Taylor, who I’d seen taking photographs earlier with the Officer of the Year, stood behind it and cleared his throat. A bright spotlight found him, and he winced, his thick brows lowering over his dark, intelligent eyes.
“My fellow officers, ladies, and gentlemen.”
The murmur of the crowd died off quickly and men and women turned in their chairs to face him. The magically moving banner of Officer Davies doing his best to look heroic hung behind the chief.
“We come together tonight, not only to enjoy the crab legs…”
A titter of laughter rose up from the crowd, and I snorted. Oh, great joke. I bet even Daisy could kill with this crowd. Peter shot me a concerned look.
The chief continued, his small, glittering eyes scanning the crowd. “…but to also honor our Officer of the Year, Dylan Davies.”
Applause rose up from the audience, and I even joined in with a few lazy claps. I glanced to my left and found Peter stony faced. Oh, right. Maybe he was also not having the best of nights.
“Officer Davies, as I’m sure you all know, was attacked in the line of duty by a witness in custody. If it hadn’t been for Davies’s quick-thinking, dedication to protecting and serving, and his inner and outer strength, the man might have overpowered him and gone on a rampage through the station.”
Peter sniffed, and I raised a brow. Was he not convinced?
“For that reason, and because of his daily commitment to the people of Bijou Mer, his peers chose him to receive this prestigious award, along with the gold prize and promotion that accompanies it. I hope you’ll join me in welcoming Officer of the Year Dylan Davies to the stage.” The chief clapped his hands and the rest of us joined him.
We clapped… and clapped. I raised my brows. Where is the guy? Stuck in the can?
The chief’s forehead lines deepened, and he tried again. “Officer Davies, please come on up and say a few words.”
The spotlight swung through the crowd and landed on a table near the stage. A blond woman in an off-shoulder red gown winced as the light hit her, the seat beside her empty.
A murmur rose up from the crowd. A few of the officers at our table muttered to each other.
“Where is he?”
“Left his date alone.”
“I wouldn’t be leaving a piece like that unattended, if you know what I’m saying.”
That last comment earned the guy a sharp elbow from his date, and he abruptly shut his mouth.
The blond in the spotlight let out an exasperated sigh and scowled. “Don’t look at me! He ditched me—I have no idea where he is.”
A commotion on the other side of the room drew stares and exclamations. I half rose from my seat as others did the same and followed the looks and pointing fingers.
The rookie who’d been picked on, Russo I thought Peter had called him, stood in the back of the room looking like he’d just been washed up with the tide. His glasses sat askew, one of the lenses cracked, and wrinkles marred his uniform jacket. A trickle of blood ran from his hairline down his cheek.
“Russo!” Peter was on his feet in an instant.
The younger officer’s chest heaved, and his voice came out shaky, though it carried over the murmuring crowd. “There—there’s been a murder!”
Daisy’s ears pricked and she whined. Truth.
GHOST PIRATE
I gripped Peter’s shoulder as I followed him down the narrow, steep stairwell below deck. Even sober it would have been difficult, with the swaying of the ship and the dark space, but in my current condition it was downright tricky. He handed me down and I adjusted my skirt. Another officer tromped over to me and motioned with his lit wand to head back up the stairs.
“Sorry, ma’am. Officers and police personnel only.”
“She’s with me.” Flint stepped up beside me. “She’s a consultant.”
The other guy gave Peter a nod and ducked under a coil of rope that hung from the rafters.
“Yeah.” I sniffed. “I’m with him.”
Daisy huffed. Who are you even talking to?
I blinked my bleary eyes. She had a point—the guy had already wandered off further below deck, past stacks of barrels and wooden crates.
“You don’t have to do this, you know?” Peter leaned close and spoke nearly against my ear. “You’ve seemed a little—like you’re maybe not feeling great, all evening?” He raised his brows at me, his bright eyes searching my face.
I grinned and swayed on my feet—and I couldn’t blame it on sea legs, it was all
