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waitress took our orders—coffees for me and Peter, plus a chocolate shake for me, fish and chips for Peter, and a bowl of water and a hot dog, no bun, for Daisy—then moved on to her other tables.

I slid Letty’s leather-bound diary across the dented and worn (though clean) tabletop. Peter flipped through till he found her last entries, then set it open between us, turned sideways so we could both read. Daisy looked down at it, head cocked.

I tapped the top of the page where she’d dated it. “This is from the night before the wedding.”

That crease appeared between Peter’s brows as he read. “She wrote that Joe Santos came to visit her in her room—he climbed up the vine outside the castle window.”

We stared at each other, wide-eyed. “The caterer?” I pursed my lips. “Guy doesn’t give up easily, I’ll give him that.”

Peter looked back down at the tight, messy handwriting, splotches of ink splattering the lines, as if she’d written in a hurry. “She says she didn’t want to let him in, but what could she do. What if they got caught and people got the wrong idea?”

I frowned. “So the feelings weren’t mutual?”

Peter shook his head. “Doesn’t look that way. She let him in, and he made a move on her—told her she was marrying into a family of monsters and confessed that he still wasn’t over her.”

He pointed to the page, and I read out loud. “I know the Harringtons haven’t accepted me yet, but I love Chaz… or will learn to. He’s so good to me. He makes me feel so special and taken care of. I can’t deny some feelings for Joe linger, but I had to tell him it was over between us.”

I looked up at Peter. “Wow. So the night before the wedding, Letty rejects the guy preparing her food.”

Peter’s mouth flattened to a grim line. “And the next day she dies of a food allergy.”

I raised my brows. “Do we know for sure?”

“Oh, snakes, I forgot to tell you.” Peter grimaced. “Sorry, but yeah, Gabriel finished his report, and the official cause of death is an allergic reaction to strawberries.”

I nodded. “We figured as much.”

He looked around the half-empty diner, then leaned close across the table and lowered his voice. “Here’s the weird part though—he didn’t find any trace of strawberries in her stomach or digestive tract.”

I frowned. “So she didn’t actually eat any?”

He leaned back and shrugged. “Either that, or she ate such a tiny amount that it triggered her allergy without showing up in her stomach.”

I nodded. “Mrs. Harrington said she had a strong reaction from eating just a tiny amount at their dinner party. It sounds like she was pretty sensitive.”

Peter nodded, and Daisy, ears flat, let out a heavy sigh. Can you please tell me what’s going on?

I grinned at her and whined. Oh, now you want me around.

Her dark eyes narrowed, and she bared her teeth. That might be taking it too far. I just want to know what you’re talking about.

I winked at her and let out a quiet woof. I’ll fill you in later, in a less public space, Days, but I’m going to need something in return.

She huffed. What?

I whined and woofed quietly so that the diners who sat on stools at the bar beside us wouldn’t hear. Next time you see the Harringtons, I’m going to need you to drool in Mrs. Harrington’s coffee or cough something up on her shoe.

Daisy blinked, then her mouth split into a toothy grin, tongue hanging out sideways. I can do that.

I looked up and found Peter watching the two of us, a confused grin on his face. “What’s all this about?”

I shrugged. “Girl talk.” I pointed at the diary. “What happened next?”

“Oh.” Peter scanned the page. “Apparently, Joe didn’t take it well, and stormed off.” He froze, then looked up at me, expression grim. “On his way out the window, Joe told Letty to watch her back—that she couldn’t be too careful.”

Goose bumps prickled my arms, and I grimaced. “Letty was afraid—that’s why she locked everyone out of her bridal suite while she was getting ready.” I tipped my head to the side. “Well, everyone except for Bart, the bat.”

Peter nodded.

I sighed. “Was Joe warning her about the Harringtons… or threatening her?”

Our waitress sauntered up beside us, arms laden with plates of food. Cups of coffee and Daisy’s water hovered magically beside her.

Peter scooped up the diary to make room on the table for the waitress to dole out our dishes. “I’ll keep reading later—see if we find anything else.”

I nodded and took a sip from the striped straw of my milkshake. Yum. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the icy-cold rich chocolate. Just the pick-me-up I’d needed, especially combined with the earthy, hot coffee.

Peter grinned a little, watching me. I’d missed that grin.

I swallowed. “I think we need to go have a word with Joe after this though.”

His grin fell, and he nodded grimly. “Definitely.”

15

Strawberries

After we finished at the diner, I led Daisy and Peter to my neighborhood in the Darkmoon Night Market district. I knew Joe’s parents’ restaurant and had eaten there a handful of times.

A bell tinkled as I pushed the door open to the tiny space. A few dark-haired men and women, who looked like they were probably family members, sat at a few of the tables, ledgers in front of them. One woman rocked a crying baby. I nodded my hellos, but they all just stared as Peter and Daisy entered behind me.

Though the place was tiny and dingy, the rich, meaty aromas smelled delicious. Despite having just eaten, my mouth watered, and I itched to get a few servings of that pork adobo behind the glass of the front counter. Probably best not to eat from a place that might have poisoned our victim. I swallowed and eyed the stew, oil bubbles coating the surface. It looked so good, though.

Joe’s parents stood behind the

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