“Was that a bad idea?”
She bristled and threw an arm toward me. “These figurines are some of our best sellers. He wanted to get rid of them—of half these things. He came in here like he knew what he was doing after a couple of months. Months! I’ve been here for years and years and he comes in trying to tell me how to run the shop.”
Peter shot a doubtful look at the display of gaudy figurines I stood beside. “Could I take a look at your ledger?”
Mrs. Abernathy hesitated, then ducked behind the desk and pulled up one of the leather-bound books I’d seen.
Peter took it, opened the gridded pages and flipped it around to take a look. He scanned the pages, slowly flipping through while Mrs. Abernathy hugged herself. I replaced the figurine and came up beside him.
He nodded, voice low. “Sure enough—they sell a ton of these figurines.”
I sniffed. “Guess there’s no accounting for taste.”
“Humph.” Mrs. Abernathy scowled at me, and I lowered my eyes back to the pages. Alright then.
Peter closed the book and pushed it across the countertop. “Thank you.”
She scooped it up and shoved it under the desk.
“One more question—where were you last night when Geoffrey Ibsen was killed?”
Mrs. Abernathy’s throat bobbed. She glanced down at Daisy, then looked Peter in the eye, chin lifted. “I’d finished my shift and was home for the night.”
Peter and I both looked down at Daisy. She wagged her tail and whined. Truth.
Mrs. Abernathy shot us a smug smile.
“Do you know of anyone who’d have wanted to hurt Geoffrey?” The quill hovered, poised, beside Peter’s head.
“Obnoxious young man like that, messing up ways that didn’t need fixing?” She sneered. “I imagine there were lots of people who’d want him dead.”
Wow. Nice talking with you….
Peter patted the counter. “Thank you very much for your time.”
“Very well.”
The three of us headed back out the lobby doors and exited the museum. We stopped beside Maverick, the security guard, on the steps outside. The crowd of protestors was as large as ever, still thrusting their signs in the air and shouting.
I leaned close to him. “Any sign of that mouse yet?”
He shook his head. “No, miss. But I put away all the traps.”
I nodded my thanks. An odd smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. What in the world was he thinking about?
Peter raised his voice to be heard over the protestors. “Last night—did you see Mrs. Abernathy leave?”
“Oh yes.” He nodded. “Checked her purse and everything.”
I frowned. “Checked her purse?”
“To make sure she wasn’t stealing merchandise or money.”
I flashed my eyes at Peter, then turned back to Maverick. “Has she done that before?”
He shook his head. “Never. But that’s why vigilance pays off—it’s preventative. You can’t be too diligent.”
17
A FAVOR
Peter, Daisy, and I walked in silence back through the cobblestoned streets of Bijou Mer. I was lost in thought. It seemed like one of the museum’s employees had to have killed Geoffrey.
The museum had been locked up for the night, and according to Maverick, none of the doors or windows had been broken into. Which meant it had to be someone with a key.
Plus, it seemed like Geoffrey Ibsen had created at least a couple of enemies—the director, Dr. Pendergast, and Mrs. Abernathy at the top of the list. But Daisy, despite a few muddled reads, had sensed that Mrs. Abernathy had been telling the truth when she said she’d been home last night and that she hadn’t killed him, in spite of strong moral objections to his cursed objects collection.
Which left the director at the top of my list. Yes, Kalia had vouched for him, but even she had admitted his behavior and moods had been erratic and more prone to anger lately. And that letter from the board of directors—he’d argued with Geoffrey after receiving it, then hid it from us.
I looked up at Peter. “We need to find out what was in that letter the director was hiding.”
He startled, hands shoved in his pockets, then grinned at me. “Oh. Agreed.”
I quirked my lips to the side. “What were you thinking about?”
We passed by a glowing bakery with small, iron tables out front. A few couples shared glass bowls of gelato and small pastries, huddled together under the striped awning. A fine mist fell around us, the chill of fall starting to creep in.
“Are you cold?” Peter slid an arm around my shoulders and hugged me to his side.
I didn’t protest, despite the side-eye look Daisy threw me. I grinned up at him. “You were thinking about if I was cold?”
He chuckled. “No. I, uh—I’ve actually been wanting to ask you something.”
My throat tightened and I crossed my arms and pulled away from him. “Look. Is this about what I said the other night?”
He bit his lip and nodded.
I sighed. “I told you—I just want to let it go, okay? I appreciate you wanting to be protective and help, but I just want to let it go. I know Eve wasn’t prosecuted but it’s complicated and—”
“Hey hey hey.” Peter slid in front of me. We’d turned down a narrow empty alley, strings of lights glowing overhead. He brought me up short and grabbed my hands. “I—I have to admit I’ve been thinking about that, too.” He frowned. “It’s not right, what happened to you, and I’m an officer. It’s kind of my job to make things right.”
I gave him a half-hearted grin.
“It makes me angry that people wronged you and got away with it—it doesn’t make sense.”
It’d be so much easier for him to understand if I just told him I was a shifter. I looked down at our feet, almost toe to toe. “Is that why you’ve stayed away since then? I know it was a lot to take in.”
“What? No.” He squeezed my hands again and I looked up. “I just—” He looked off, a wry
