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

and eyes wide.
I waved it off. “Just a little girl time. She’s such a sweetie.”
Daisy snarled at me, and I edged away from her.
Peter’s throat bobbed and his mouth twitched toward a grin, though doubt still filled his eyes. “Oh. Okay.”
Turk lurched up to us and shook a finger at Peter. “Muddy footprints? You said muddy footprints, right?” He cast a wide-eyed look at Millie, then at Zo. Both women ignored him, so he turned back to Peter.
“Officer, I think I know who did this!”

13


THE FEUD
Peter squared his shoulders. “You know who did this?”
Turk nodded, the whites showing all around his eyes. “Yeah, our neighbor!” He thumbed over his hairy shoulder.
Millie snapped out of her stupor and turned to face her husband, a bewildered look on her pale face. “Our neighbor?”
Turk huffed. “That no good guppie, Martin Shaw!”
Millie only blinked rapidly, but Zo stopped pacing. She lifted a brow and crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “That weirdo across the street?” The neon sign outside lit up half her face in purple.
At least they weren’t talking about me. Though it would have been an accurate description. I chewed my lip and cast through my memory. Martin Shaw? If he was across the street, that would make him my neighbor too, but I couldn’t recall knowing a Martin.
The quill beside Peter’s head magically jotted down notes. “Why do you suspect this Martin Shaw fellow?”
“Our sign.” Turk led the way to the window, and Peter, Daisy, and I followed. Zo lifted her nose and marched away from the windows as soon as we neared them. Turk cast one anguished look after her, then shook himself and gestured through the dirty panes.
“See, down there, to the right? That’s where that spineless crustacean lives. Ooh!” He balled his hands into beefy fists. “If that bottom dweller did this to our Bim, I’ll wring his neck and—”
Peter cleared his throat.
Turk’s eyes widened as he caught himself, and he tugged on the tie of his robe. “Figuratively, of course.” He ran a hand over his balding head.
I found my own window, right across the way, black curtains drawn, then looked down and to the right. The looky-loos still gathered behind the police barrier outside, though the crowd had thinned.
Rain still pattered the dirty, cracked cobblestones below. I found the shop windows Turk had pointed out. A pale green light glowed from behind the crack in the curtains.
“Why do you believe your neighbor would kill over a sign?” Peter’s face remained impassive, his gaze fixed on Turk.
The man scoffed. “Guy claimed the sign was ruining some of his precious plants. Apparently they need absolute darkness to grow.” Turk rolled his eyes. “Put ’em in a closet or something.”
I lifted a brow. “Sounds like he’s really into his plants.” I had definitely never met this person before—I’d have remembered a neighbor like that.
“He’s a botanist.”
I jumped. I hadn’t noticed Millie come up and stand beside me.
“A botanist?”
She nodded at me, then at Peter, and sniffled, her eyes and nose red from crying. “The sign has become a major point of contention. If you check, there will be a record of an official complaint we filed against him. He kept breaking the sign by cursing it.”
Turk growled. “Been costing us a fortune to get it counter-spelled all the time!”
Peter lifted a brow. “You have proof of this?”
Turk’s cheeks flushed. “Well… not exactly. Charges were never leveled, but come on! We know it’s him, who else?” He threw a palm towards the guy’s shop.
I scoffed. “Uh! Any neighbor in the vicinity? The whole neighborhood hates that sign!”
Millie and Turk whirled on me, lips tight. Oops. That had just slipped right on out.
I shrugged. “Or… you know… so I imagine.” But it was true. I’d heard all my neighbors complaining about the flashing monstrosity.
“That would explain the mud—the man works with plants and dirt.” Peter shifted on his feet. “Do you have any reason to suspect he might have targeted Bim specifically?”
As Peter continued to question Turk and Millie, I kept my gaze out the windows. You got used to the familiar lineup of night market characters. The food vendors, the gamblers, the young kids wolfing down fried chicken after a night on the town. There were also the street urchins, the shady dealers, the pirates.
I leaned closer and squinted, trying to make out the figure down below. Someone tall and lean, in a black fur-trimmed cloak, tugged at the hood over their head. This person, though they were clearly trying to keep a low profile in that “disguise,” stood out like a sore thumb. If they really wanted to blend in, they just needed some ratty clothes and a shifty demeanor.
Well, the shifty demeanor they had down. The cloaked figure looked right and left, lingering in the shadows between two buildings across the street. When they lifted their face to the sky and caught sight of the police signal hovering above us, I saw her.
Bright white hair, a pretty face and square jaw. Mouth and eyes wide in surprise… or fear. I squinted through the dirty windows and the rain, trying to make out that familiar-seeming face down below. But she whirled, cloak whipping around her, and sped away down an alley.
I tapped a finger to my lips. Where did I know her from? I was certain I recognized that woman.
“Jolene?”
I jumped and turned.
Peter gave me a good-natured grin. “Sorry. Just… looks like we’re speaking to the botanist next. You ready to go?”
I nodded and fell in step with him as we, accompanied by Daisy, headed toward the stairs. “You know it’s animals I’m good with, not plants.” I raised my brows.
He grinned. “You never know when a ladybug or a gnat might be hanging around.”
I rolled my eyes but jogged down the steps behind him.


14


THE BOTANIST
“Martin Shaw?” Peter cleared his voice and tried again. “Mr. Shaw? I’m Officer Flint, I’d like to ask you some questions.”