Pretty Little Fliers: A Cozy Witch Mystery (Magic Market Mysteries Book 1)

the street died, fell to her death actually, and I’m asking around, checking for witnesses.” A scroll and quill magically hovered beside his head, raindrops splattering the parchment. Did you see anything?”
I shifted on my feet and looked down, the awful moment that woman had flown out the window replaying in my head. “Yeah. I, uh, I actually saw her fall.”
His eyes widened. “Really? Are you okay?”
I smirked. “Better than that lady.”
He nodded, brows drawn together. “Can I come in and ask you a few questions?”
“Sure.” I stepped to the side to let him through, but then remembered the state of my apartment. It was never great, but tonight it was particularly bad. I’d left the jar of pickle juice beside the couch, and at least three pairs of worn underwear were scattered about.
“I mean, no!” I lurched back into the doorframe, blocking his way. “Let’s just talk here.”
His eyes darted to the rainy sky above, then back to me. “Oh. Okay.” Doubt filled his voice.
Daisy let out a huff. Seriously? You’re making us stand out here?
I scrunched up my nose and gave Peter a tight-lipped smile. “Ask away, Officer.”
He grinned. “Peter’s fine.” He stared at me for a long moment, then shook himself and cleared his throat. “Right. So can you tell me what happened?”
I told him what I’d seen. The glass breaking, the woman flying out backwards.
“So you were at the window?”
Rain tapped at the metal gutter that ran over the door.
I nodded. “That obnoxious neon sign came on and blinded me—” I lifted my chin at the pulsing sign across the street, and Peter and his dog turned to look.
It read Darkmoon Outlet, Incorporated in enormous letters that took turns flashing on and off in a rotation of rainbow colors.
“So I got up to close the curtains.” I shuddered.
Peter’s lips quirked to the side. “Do you know the woman who died? Or anyone else in that building?”
“No. I’ve maybe seen them coming and going a few times, but they’re a daytime business. I’m more of a night owl myself, so….” Or at least I used to be an owl.
“Okay, thank you.” The enchanted feather quill scratched away at the scroll by Peter’s head, jotting down notes.
I pressed my lips tight together and nodded. Daisy, now quite wet, glared at me with those dark eyes of hers.
I cleared my throat and broke the awkward silence. “So… your dog seems better.”
Daisy growled. I have a name.
“Hey, wittle puppy.” I laid on the sickly sweet baby talk and reached a hand out to pet her head. Daisy flattened her ears and growled.
Pet me and you’ll lose a hand.
I pulled back and smirked. So despite saving her life, she hadn’t forgotten or forgiven me for being a “lowlife” shifter.
Peter frowned down at her. “Daisy. Come on, be nice. This woman saved your life.” He shot a furtive glance over his shoulder at the several other cops who crouched around the body and ushered bystanders back.
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “She seems a hundred percent better. I, uh—” He pressed his lips tight together and shook his head, eyes glassy. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your and your friend’s help.”
He looked deep into my eyes, and I stopped breathing.
“Thank you.”
I leaned a little closer.
Daisy barked, and we jumped apart. She’s a shifter! She’s lying about her abilities!
“Daisy.” Peter frowned down at her. “What has gotten into you?”
She barked again, tail stiff behind her.
Two could play that game.
I bent forward, hands on my thighs, and cooed at the dog. “Aw, you’re so welcome, wittle girl. Yes, you’re so welcome.”
She snarled back at me, and I chuckled.
“I’m sorry.” Peter’s brows drew together in an apologetic smile. “She’s not usually like this.”
I touched my fingers to my temples. “It’s alright. Some animals get overly excited when they realize I can hear their thoughts.” I tilted my head to the side. “Oh, what’s that? Why thank you, Daisy.” I clicked my tongue and turned to Peter. “She says I’m the prettiest, kindest human woman she’s ever met.”
Daisy lunged at me, teeth bared, and I scrambled back a step as Peter gripped her harness with both hands. He leaned his weight back and dragged her away from me, his expression puzzled.
I cleared my throat once Daisy plunked her haunches down in the cobblestoned street and flattened her ears, defeated. Raindrops trickled down her face as she stared at me.
“So, uh—how’d you end up with a dog for a partner, anyway?”
Peter grinned. “It’s kind of a long story, but Daisy’s enchanted—she can tell if someone’s lying.” He tipped his head from side to side. “She can’t pinpoint exactly what the lie is, but she gets a sense of it, I think. It’s really helpful.”
I snorted. A truth-sniffing police dog? “I bet.”
“Flint!” An officer who crouched beside the tarp covered body waved a hand.
Peter turned.
“You need to see this.”
He spun back to face me. “Better get back to it. If you think of anything else….” He reached into the breast pocket of his navy-and-gold uniform, then handed me a white card with neat black printing.
Officer Peter Flint.
Below it read the address for the jail on the royal grounds, situated on the highest tier of Bijou Mer. I sniffed. And here I was, at the bottom of it.
“Will do.” I waved the card in goodbye as he turned and jogged back into the wet street to join his fellow officers, Daisy at his side.
I latched the locks and made it halfway back up the stairs when another knock at the door sounded. I grinned, a tingle of excitement in my stomach.
He’d probably just forgotten to ask me something. Part of me hoped he wanted to get my number. I mentally chewed that part of me out. What was I thinking?
I jogged back down, smoothing my hair as I went, and yanked the door open.
My tiny, terrifying landlady stood in the door frame. The Dragon!
The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
She glared up