She shot an arm out and shouted, “Russo, room three! Three!” Her hoarse voice cut through the noise. “Room four just got taken!”
I followed her gaze to where a newbie officer wrestled with a struggling perp in magically glowing handcuffs. He dragged the guy off down the hall. Was I about to be next?
“No, sorry, sir, please continue. Mm-hmm.” Edna pressed a finger to the listening device in her ear. “I’ll send someone right away.”
She spun to face us and blinked several times, her eyes glazed and far away behind her purple cat glasses before she seemed to come back and recognize us.
Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, hey, dolls.” She leaned forward and plunked her chin into her hand. “Aren’t you lot a sight for sore eyes.” She half rose from her tall stool and reached over to pet Daisy. The German shepherd pressed her side against the wood desk and lifted her head as high as she could to accommodate.
Peter glanced around, then lowered his voice. “What’s going on, Edna? Bon called us up here.”
A sly smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her bright pink lipstick slightly smeared. “The new chief is here for a meet and greet.” She winked. “And Bon decided we all needed to look as busy as possible, so he’s riled everyone up into a frenzy.”
I smirked, slightly relieved. “Sounds like Bon.” He’d probably just called us up here to meet the new chief… but why had I been included?
Edna playfully smacked my shoulder and winked at Peter. “Have I told you I like this one?”
Peter glanced toward Bon’s office. The transom window above the door was closed and an officer stationed at the desk outside. He turned back to Edna. “What’s the new chief like?”
She clicked her tongue and looked off, thoughtful. “She’s… unexpected. You’ll see.”
She gave Daisy one last rustle on her head, then sank back down onto her stool. “Have fun.” She pressed the device in her ear. “Bijou Mer Police Precinct, how can I direct your call?”
We gave her little waves goodbye and threaded our way between the rows of metal desks where officers frantically scribbled out reports, dug through overflowing drawers, or interviewed witnesses. A smell of mustiness and old coffee filled the cold stone room, and the torches on the wall guttered in the draft.
As we reached Bon’s office, the inspector himself stepped out, accompanied by a middle-aged woman, also in uniform—though hers had a lot more badges and medals than Bon’s. I tensed, hoping I wasn’t about to be exposed. Bon’s beady eyes landed on us, and he visibly sagged with relief.
He threw an arm out as we joined them. “Ah, here they are.” He shot Peter a heavy look. “Finally.”
Peter blinked in surprise. “Uh—apologies, Inspector. We got here as quickly as we could.”
The blond, with her short, feathered ’do and thumbs hooked in the belt of her trousers, rocked back on her heels and chuckled. “Ah, he’s just teasing. Right, Inspector?”
She clapped Bon hard on the back and he lurched forward, then shot her a look, lips pressed tight together. He straightened his uniform jacket and drew himself up taller (though he was still shorter than me). “Chief McCray, allow me to introduce—”
But she cut him off, thrusting her arm forward and clasping Peter’s hand in both of her own. She pumped it vigorously. “Chief Kit McCray.”
Peter grinned. “Officer Peter Flint.” Then he glanced down at their shaking hands.
She patted his wrist, then threw her hands up. “Weird, I know. Just a little custom I picked up from a visit to the human lands years ago.”
Bon frowned at her.
McCray bent forward, hands on thighs, and gasped at Daisy. “Which means you must be the famous lie-sniffing dog I’ve heard so much about. Aren’t you? Aren’t you just the cutest?” Her enormous wire-rimmed glasses slipped down her nose, and she shoved them back up. “Dogs love me.”
Daisy cocked her head to the side and whined. Partial truth.
I held back a grin. Brutal, Daisy, just brutal.
The new chief straightened and pointed at Daisy. “What did that mean?”
Peter and I exchanged looks, and he took a deep breath. “Uh… that it’s mostly true.”
“Ha!” She slapped her thigh. “And she’s got a sense of humor, too!”
I scoffed and muttered, “Debatable.”
McCray turned to me, and I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. Something about the way her blue eyes studied me made me feel like there was more to this woman than her friendly, peppy demeanor would suggest. “And you must be Ms. Hartgrave, our psychic consultant.”
She took my hand and shook it up and down like she had Peter’s. Odd. “Uh—yep. Pet psychic.”
The chief cocked her head and turned to the scowling Bon, then back to me. “You don’t say.” She pointed at Daisy. “Can you read her mind?”
I gulped. The woman unsettled me. Was she as friendly as she appeared, or was this some kind of trap? “Sure.”
“Now?”
“Uh.” I pressed my lips tight together. Couldn’t really see a way out of this, or why it would hurt, but still I hesitated. “Why not?” I turned to face Daisy, pressed my fingers to my temples and closed my eyes in concentration. I frowned a little, as though concentrating hard, like I always did when pretending to give readings.
Daisy snorted. You look constipated.
I peeled an eye open to look at her. I couldn’t really respond with all eyes on me, so I closed them again and decided to take a different form of revenge.
“She’s wishing that you’d dress her up more, Peter.”
I glanced at him. His jaw dropped, and he gaped at Daisy, then at me. “Really? I tried to put a sweater on her once and she ran away.”
I shrugged. “I’m just the messenger.” I touched my temple again.
“But—” He blinked at me, and realization slowly spread over his features. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, good to know. Guess I’ll have to give outfits another try.”
I nodded seriously. “It would
