Picture-Perfect Poison (Pet Potions Mystery, 4) by Ami Diane

Author:Ami Diane [Diane, Ami]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Volvo’s tires screeched as Marge slammed on the brakes, sending Libby choking against her seatbelt restraint. The bumper kissed the “P” on the sign for Pacific Northwest Storage.

Marty was first out of the vehicle, diving for the relative safety of the parking lot.

“Where did you learn to drive, woman?”

Marge smirked as she climbed out. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Libby prodded her skin where the harness had dug in, then massaged the cramps out of her hands after their prolonged death grip on her seat. “Really? Because the citation that cop wrote suggests otherwise.”

That wiped the smirk right off the apothecary’s face.

As they walked up to the office, bent to shield themselves against a gust of wet wind, Marge muttered, “A two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar fine.” As Marty opened the door for them, she added under her breath, “I wasn’t going that fast.”

A woman sat behind a desk burdened with fake plants and small shabby chic signs with motivational sayings, such as Dream big and Live, Love, Laugh. She looked up and smiled at the trio.

A ginger cat snoozed on the filing cabinet behind her, nearly lost in a jungle of more fake plants. Marty’s allergies immediately went haywire.

“Want a tissue?” Libby asked, earning a glare from him and a snort from Marge.

“Are you the gal who called earlier?”

“I am.” Libby showed the woman her driver’s license and the receipt for the storage unit.

The employee lifted a key from a wall of hooks and keys, then told them to follow her. Outside, the wind buffeted them, and cold drops pelted Libby’s face. For the first time, she was slightly jealous of Marty’s hat and the little protection the brim provided.

As they walked, the woman remarked on the color of Libby’s hair and how very daring it was of her to dye it such a bright green, almost the color of Mountain Dew.

The buildings were painted bright orange, with white bay doors. Her mother’s unit was in the last building at the end of the circular loop. With a smile, the employee handed over the key and told her to take her time.

They huddled around the lock, shivering, while Libby fumbled in her quest to unlock the door, her fingers stiff from the cold and nerves.

“Allow me?” Marty offered, holding out his hand.

She gave him a grateful smile and relinquished the small brass object.

The lock clicked as he turned, and her heart nearly gave out. Her imagination ran amok with what might be inside, anything from superfluous furniture her mom hadn’t wanted to clutter the house, to stolen art paintings or jewelry—not that her mother had ever shown the slightest inclination for thievery. But those were the only theories that made sense in a world where her mother had secretly rented out a storage unit for a whole year.

“Well?” Marty’s eyes held the anticipation she was feeling.

A single, encouraging nod from Marge was all the push Libby needed. She gripped one ice-cold handle of the door near the ground while Marge grabbed the other.

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