You Can't Judge a Crime by Its Aura (Piper Ashwell Psychic P.I. #3.5) by Kelly Hashway

Author:Kelly Hashway
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Kelly Hashway
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

So many things are swirling around in my head, and I don’t like any of them. “Please tell me you didn’t call Marcia in to the station, Mitchell.”

“Piper, you know I have to.”

“Ugh,” I scream into the phone. “This is crazy. We both know Marcia didn’t do anything. She was preoccupied during the time of the murder.”

“We don’t know that for sure. Neither of us was there at the time of the murder.”

I look at the house and then back at Trevor’s car before starting for the car again. Trevor and Maddie follow without asking questions. “We both know Marcia, and you are going to owe her one hell of an apology after this. I’m on my way. Don’t you dare question her until I get there. And in the meantime, get a search warrant for this house. We have to get the dog out of there. The poor thing must be hungry and need to use the bathroom.” I hang up, too furious to talk to him anymore.

“Where to?” Trevor asks.

“The station,” I say, squeezing my phone in my lap.

“Mitchell doesn’t really think Marcia had anything to do with this, does he?” Maddie asks. “I mean, you saw the killer in your vision.”

“I did, and he knows that. But he has to follow police procedure no matter how insane or how big of a waste of time it is.” I let out a huff and twist the ring on my pinky finger.

“Hey,” Maddie says. “We have similar pinky rings.” She holds up her hand to show me.

“Something about spinning it helps me center myself in moments like this.”

“Mine was a gift from my parents before they died. When I grew out of it, I moved it to my pinky.” Her tone is full of sadness, and Trevor reaches over to take her hand in his.

Okay, maybe it would be nice to have someone console me like that. I shake the thought from my head, realizing that form of contact would put me in tune with the other person’s emotions. Emotional overload isn’t comforting in the least.

The station is buzzing, and multiple officers are trying to run the sketch, research the dead grandparents who live on Cedar Terrace, and obtain a search warrant. I spot Marcia at Mitchell’s desk, drinking water from one of those tiny paper cups. I walk right over to her and sit beside her.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Do you need anything?”

“The store is ‘closed for lunch,’” she says, making air quotes with one hand. “I didn’t want anyone to think…”

“No one ever could. We all know this is ludicrous.” I glare at Mitchell. “I already know who our killer is.”

“Still, I have to ask you some questions, Marcia. I hope you understand,” Mitchell says.

Maddie and Trevor are standing off to the side by the water cooler, giving us some privacy.

“Go ahead, Detective. I have nothing to hide.” Marcia sips her water.

“Where did you last see the letter opener?” Mitchell begins.

“It was in my office where it always is.

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