Pretty Little Fliers by Erin Johnson

Author:Erin Johnson [Johnson, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

22

Liar Liar

Amelie blinked at the intimidating dog and edged back toward the twisted driftwood chair behind her.

“My partner here says you’re lying.” Peter lifted a brow. “Care to try again?”

I tapped my fingers on my knees. What kind of seedy photos? “Were you there for a little boudoir photography, hm?”

Amelie pressed her lips tight together, her nostrils flaring with each quick breath.

I lifted a shoulder. “Something to spice up the ol’ marriage, perhaps?”

“Leave.” She pointed a long, thin arm toward the front door behind us.

Peter spun to face me, his voice low. “You’re on the right track, but—we’re missing something.”

“Out!” She stomped her foot.

“What’s that, dear?” Her elderly husband’s voice drifted in from down the hall.

Peter and I rose, his eyes still locked on my face. “Why would she go all the way to Darkmoon for boudoir photography?”

A pink blush colored his cheeks, and I bit back a grin. What a good boy.

He scratched his neck, voice still quiet. “I mean, it’s not that racy to give your husband pictures of yourself, right?”

I snapped my fingers, a huge grin on my face. “Peter, that’s it!” I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Leave now!” Amelie’s blazing eyes bored holes through the two of us. “I’ll be speaking with your inspector.”

Peter turned his wide eyes to me, but I just winked back. It was going to be fine—I had this now.

“The pictures weren’t for your husband, were they?” I arched a brow.

The lady’s face slackened.

“That’s why you went to Bim. There are plenty of well-known photographers who could have taken sexy, but tasteful pictures of you, especially with your connections to the art world.” I grimaced. “But people talk. And you didn’t want it getting back to your husband that you were taking pinup pics for your secret lover.”

“Preposterous!” Lady Amelie glanced over her shoulder toward the hallway… and her husband in the back of the house. She turned back to me, teeth bared. “Keep your voice down!”

She lowered herself back into the seat and arched a thin brow. Peter and I did the same, and Daisy plunked her haunches down onto the ground.

“Will you answer our questions truthfully now?” Peter stared her down.

She sneered. “What I’ll do is consider not insisting your inspector fire you immediately based—”

I raised my voice. “A well-to-do socialite spotted in the Darkmoon at night outside a murder scene?” My words echoed through the enormous space. “I’m sure the tabloids would go wild for a story like—”

“Shh!” Her knuckles grew red and splotchy where she gripped the arms of her crazy driftwood chair. “Shush!” Her wild, pale eyes darted between Peter and me. “Fine! Yes, alright. You’re correct.” She gave a jerky shrug. “What do I have to do to get you to leave?”

Peter and I exchanged looks. His eyes danced. He turned back to Lady Amelie. “Give us Bim’s studio address.”

With her fiery eyes glued to Peter, Lady Amelie snapped her fingers. “Manson!” Footsteps sounded from the next room, and then the black-clad butler hurried up beside her chair.

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