Magic swirled inside the crystal, a fuzzy image came into view, and suddenly we were looking at a bird’s-eye view of the hallway outside Geoffrey’s office. Two officers stood guard beside the crime scene doorway, and Kalia bustled past, then disappeared into her own office a few doors down.
Peter and I leaned closer to the image.
“Wow.” I pressed my lips together, impressed. I could really use something like this to sell the whole pet psychic thing.
Peter licked his lips. “Can we see inside the office?”
Maverick shook his head. “Nah. The director vetoed that one. Something about needing privacy.” He rolled his eyes.
I shot the guard a wary look. This guy took his job maybe a little too seriously. This was a museum… not a prison.
“Can we see this same view from a few hours ago?”
Maverick shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. The network shows me only what’s happening now, in the present.”
Peter nodded and straightened, one hand still on the back of the guard’s chair. “Are the other staff members aware of your security system?”
Maverick nodded. “Of course.”
Peter glanced at me, the glowing buttons and orb casting his face in hues of blue, green, and orange. “If the killer is aware of the system, they might have chosen to commit the murder inside Geoffrey’s office because they knew it would be off-limits from the security system.”
Peter backed up, and Maverick swiveled around to face us. “Did you see anything earlier tonight? Any glimpse of the killer?”
The guard shook his head. “I was in here when I heard the crash—must’ve been that figurine breaking.”
I nodded. The offices weren’t too far from his security closet. It was possible he’d heard it from here.
“I immediately checked the crystal ball.”
“Anything?”
Maverick shook his head. “The hallway was empty. So I grabbed my wand and headed in the direction of the sound. I discovered the PR kid’s body, notified the police and the curator, then checked the perimeter. Everything was still locked up tight—no windows or doors or magical seals broken.” He grimaced and slammed a fist down on the table. “Snakin’ shell! The murderer netted me up with the catch!”
Daisy, ears flat, scooted out from under the desk and glued herself to Peter’s side.
I bit back a smile. Guess even tough police dogs could get startled.
Peter frowned at the guard. “You seem to be taking this… personally.”
Maverick glared at Peter from under his bushy white brows. “I fought in the monster wars. Where I got my injury.” He slapped his leg. That explained the limp. “It’s not a small thing to lose a man! Kid’s dead, on my watch!” He spun back around to face his rig and gripped the edge of the desk. “I’m so vigilant! How could this have happened? I’m going to figure out who did him in!”
I flashed my eyes at Peter behind the guard’s back, and he returned the look. The monster wars were brutal, from what I’d learned in school. A veteran of them who appeared a little unhinged? I’d say Maverick was as much a suspect as anyone.
A pile of mousetraps stacked on a metal shelving unit in the corner caught my eye. I grabbed one and turned, holding it up.
“Kalia told us you were in charge of—”
Maverick whirled around and shouted, “No touching!”
I jumped and the trap clattered to the floor.
Peter stooped to pick it up and handed it back to me. Brows raised, I gingerly replaced it on the shelf.
Maverick grunted. “Sorry. Habit—what with protecting the exhibits and all.”
“Right.” I flashed my eyes at Peter again. This guy was a lot. “I noticed another trap in Geoffrey’s office.”
The guard’s eyes grew wide, and he leaned toward me. “Was it empty?”
I recoiled. “Uh… yeah.”
Maverick slumped back in his chair and blew out a heavy breath.
I frowned. “Could you do us a favor and lay off the traps for a while?” I looked at Peter, and he nodded his approval. “I’m a pet psychic, and I want to see if any mice witnessed anything.”
Maverick narrowed one eye. “It’s one mouse. And it’s my duty to kill the furry little monster, but eh…” He splayed his calloused hands. “Sure.”
Daisy whined from Peter’s side. I’m getting muddled scents. Some truth, some lie.
I crossed my arms and leaned my hips against the desk. Odd.
Peter shifted on his feet. “Was anyone else here when you discovered the body?”
Maverick shook his head. “Not that I know of. Ms. Magaro was gone, as was the director and Mrs. Abernathy the shop worker. Not sure about Quentin—he’s got his own key to the archives and mostly sticks to the basement. I don’t go down there on my patrols.”
“Quentin?” Peter’s quill scratched out some notes on the magically hovering scroll at his shoulder.
The guard raised his brows. “Archivist. Odd kid. Keeps to himself mostly.”
Peter nodded. “We’ll look into it. Why was Geoffrey Ibsen still here if most of the staff had gone home?”
The corners of Maverick’s mouth tugged down. “Not sure on this particular occasion. Kid was kind of a workaholic, not unusual for him to stay late.” He frowned. “Though I do recall seeing him heading out after the museum closed… maybe he forgot something and came back?”
The quill scribbled away beside Peter’s head.
If that was the case, maybe he’d surprised someone who counted on him being gone? Was someone looking for something in his office?
Peter bit his lip. “You mentioned the archivist, Quentin, has his own key. Does any of the other staff have a key to the museum?”
Maverick swiveled side to side in his chair. “Myself, of course. The director, Dr. Pendergast, does, along with Ms. Magaro and Quentin, as I already mentioned.”
Peter grabbed the scroll and scanned it. “You mentioned a shop worker, Mrs. Abernathy? Does that make her the only employee without her own key?”
Maverick nodded.
“Any reason why?” Peter looked up from the scroll.
The guard shrugged. “Doesn’t need one. One of us is always here anytime she needs to be.”
As Peter scanned his
