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

“And our new consultant, Jolene.”
I nodded in greeting. I felt so official. Look at me—consultant.
The woman edged slightly behind the man, her eyes glued to Daisy’s intense face and pricked ears.
“I’m Turk Molino; this is my wife, Millie. I’m the owner here at Darkmoon Outlet, Incorporated.” His dark, bushy brows drew together as he glanced toward the windows. “What’s all this fuss about? What are you doing on my property?”
He gulped when Peter shot him a hard look. “Er… I mean, what’s going on… Officer?”
“What is this?” A husky voice came from behind the couple. A younger woman with long brown hair and plentiful curves strode through the doorway. She narrowed her eyes at Turk and crossed her arms over her ample bosom.
The wife, Millie, spotted her and paled.
Peter arched a brow. “I’m sorry, miss, but this is a crime scene, so unless you have a reason to be—”
“I work here.” She lifted her delicate chin.
Peter’s eyes slid to Turk, who nodded. “Yeah, this is Zo. Uh, Zozanna, our receptionist.”
She gave Peter a tight-lipped smile, her eyes blazing.
Millie looked faint. The color had drained from her face, and her breaths came in heaving pants. “Who—?” She blinked and shook herself. “Who is that under the tarp out there?”
Peter softened his tone. “She was identified as Bim Pavani.”
Millie let out a little whimper and gripped her husband’s arm.
“What?!” Zo’s dark eyes grew round, and her full lips parted.
“That’s—that’s impossible.” Turk’s brow furrowed. “No, it can’t be.”
Peter lifted a brow.
“She’s our photographer and graphic designer.” Turk dragged a hand down his face and cupped his chin. “Poor Bim.”
Millie let out a gasp, and her eyes rolled back.
Was she about to—?
Peter and Turk lunged forward and caught her as she collapsed. Zo turned her back to the whole thing. Wow. Their employee’s death had really hit Millie hard.
Daisy cocked her head, ears pricked, and whimpered. They’re all genuinely distraught.
Peter glanced at his dog and gave her a slight nod as he helped lay Millie on the shabby carpet. Her eyes fluttered.
I frowned. From what I’d seen, that Bim woman had flown backwards out the window. Someone had to have pushed or spelled her out—this was no accident. But Daisy at least seemed to think these three were off the hook.
Then again, how much faith could we put in a dog?

11


TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE
Turk sat beside his wife and held her shoulders as she fanned herself. He and Peter had managed to revive her and help her into a desk chair. Though, as Turk blinked and swayed slightly in his seat, I wondered if he was about to faint, too. Zo, the secretary, paced back and forth in front of the windows, occasionally shooting daggers in our general direction.
I lifted a brow and adjusted my perch on the edge of a desk. I couldn’t quite tell if she was aiming at Turk or his wife, Millie.
“You’re sure you’re alright to continue with the questioning, Mrs. Molino?” Peter rolled over another chair and sat in front of her, brows pinched in concern. “We’re treating this as a murder investigation, and while it’s difficult, I’ll need to ask you some things. Either now, or you can come up to the station tomorrow.”
She sniffled and gave a weak nod. “Let’s—let’s just get it over with.”
Peter addressed Turk. “What is it exactly that you do here?”
“We, uh—” The hairy man shifted in his seat. “We help local merchants find buyers for unique goods.”
I snorted. “Unique? As in, stolen?”
“Unique!” The business owner blanched. “They’re legal!” He waved a beefy hand, his wide, bloodshot eyes darting between me and Peter.
Daisy let out a low growl. Partial lie.
I smirked, feeling smug my hunch had been right. “Uh-huh.”
Turk gulped.
Peter glanced at Daisy, then leaned closer to the couple. “How many employees do you have?”
“Just me, Millie—I mean, she doesn’t work here, and isn’t involved in the day-to-day, but she’s part owner, being my wife and all.” He licked his lips and his mustache twitched.
Millie kept her eyes down on her fidgety hands.
A quill magically floated beside Peter and jotted it all down.
“Then there’s Zo, of course, our receptionist.” Turk tilted his head in her direction, and she huffed, still pacing.
I frowned. What had gotten Zo’s panties in a twist? Not like she was the one who flew out the window to her death.
“And—” Turk’s throat bobbed. “And Bim.” He shook his head, shoulders slumped. “Poor Bim.”
“No one else?” Peter prompted.
Turk shook his head, then stopped himself and held up a finger. “Oh, well, there’s the courier, Ronnie Johnston. We just hire him to pick up and drop off packages—he’s not a full-time employee.” He blinked, swaying slightly. “Though sometimes it feels like he is.”
Peter lifted a brow. “How so?”
“Oh.” Turk grinned but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing, he just uh—he flirts shamelessly with Zozanna.”
Millie darted a glance at her husband.
Turk rolled his eyes. “Wastes a lot of time, you know. Probably should hire someone new, but eh—life gets busy, huh?”
“Yeah, he does. He flirts and he asks me out every week.”
We all turned. Zo stood with her legs planted wide, a scowl on her face. “And you know what? Next time he asks, I think I’ll say yes!”
Turk pressed his lips tight together, and a muscle jumped in his scruffy jaw. He spun around, putting his back to the secretary.
Wow. Definitely some office drama going on.
Turk yawned, and didn’t bother to cover his mouth. I cringed as his hot, pungent breath hit me. Huh. I sniffed. Kind of an herbal scent, a little like anise, but sweeter. Whatever he’d been drinking—it was strong.
Peter leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “And where were you two tonight?”
“At home.” Millie patted her husband’s hairy forearm. “I was reading, and Turkie fell asleep on the couch.”
Turk’s brows drew together and he gave himself a little shake, though his eyes stayed glassy. “That’s weird, I was supposed to, uh—” He blinked and looked up. “Supposed to stay