Pet Psychic Mysteries Boxset Books 5-8 (Magic Market Mysteries Book 2) Erin Johnson (good books for 8th graders .txt) 📖

We moved over to the tall desk, and Peter flashed his gold badge. “We’re here on police matters.”

The man’s nostrils flared as he looked Daisy and me up and down, a disdainful curl to his lip. “And these two are…?”

I crossed my arms and shot him a flat look. “She’s a canine officer”—I tipped my head toward Daisy who took that opportunity to cough, then gag—“and I’m a police consultant.”

“I see.” He scribbled something on a piece of parchment, then pointedly set down his quill and laced his fingers together on the countertop. “You, sir, may enter, but as for these two…” His gaze drifted back to Daisy and me. “We have a strict jacket policy.”

I smirked. “Yeah, okay.”

He simply blinked back at me, and I frowned up at Peter. “He can’t be serious.” I turned back to the concierge de snobbery and tugged at my quilted bomber jacket. “Looks like I’m wearing a jacket to me.”

He sniffed. “How droll. No, we require sports coats, madam.” He gestured at a wooden cupboard behind him and opened the door, revealing a rack of oversized blazers. “We have some for loan if you simply must enter; otherwise, you may wait outside.”

I raised my brows, anger flushing hot up my throat. Just who did this guy think he was? “Oh, I may wait outside, might I?” I scoffed, thinking of the thrashing winds and sideways rain. “How generous of you.”

He smirked.

Peter frowned. “Women have to wear sports coats too?”

The thin man arched a sharp brow. “Typically our female members opt for dresses and heels, but barring that, suit coats are also acceptable.’”

“Fine.” I made a grabby hand. “Give me the jacket. And one for the dog, too.”

He paled. “You’re not serious.”

Peter looked between the country club guy and me, his cheeks tight like he was fighting a grin.

I raised my brows. “Oh—deadly serious. If jackets are required, we’ll wear the shell out of them.”

Twin pink spots burned on the man’s cheeks, but he simply pressed his lips into a thin line. “Very well.”

I smirked. “Sure hope you’ve got a good dry cleaner.” I thumbed at Daisy, who watched me with eyes narrowed. “You’re gonna need it to get the dog smell out of that blazer.”

A minute later, Peter, Daisy, and I walked into the dining room of the country club. I shrugged and tried to adjust the ridiculously large sports coat that jellyfish at the front had picked out for me. The wool tweed made my neck itch, and I’d had to roll the sleeves four times before my fingers even poked out the openings.

“I look ridiculous.”

Daisy, whose front legs stuck through the sleeves of a black blazer, glared at me and growled. I bet you think this is funny?

I let out a couple of quiet woofs. Not at all. In fact, we both look so good, I thought we might have some portraits taken? Maybe make it into a calendar? We’ll call it “Pets and Their Psychics in Sports Coats.” Who wouldn’t buy that?

Her ears flattened, and at that moment, two young women decked out in pearls and heels sauntered up to Peter.

“Is this your dog?”

“Oh my waves, she is soo cute.”

They bent forward, hands on thighs, and cooed at Daisy.

“Aren’t you just the cutest?”

“Uh.” Peter shifted on his feet, his cheeks burning pink. “She’s actually working and—”

Daisy, apparently unable to take it any longer, threw her head back and howled. I hate it! I hate wearing clothes! The indignity of it!

The women jumped back, eyes wide, and hurried off, clutching each other. The diners at the tables nearest us grew quiet and shot us worried looks.

I raised my brows at the dog and whined. Nice one, Daisy.

She bared her teeth and growled. I’ll rip that stupid jacket right off of you and—

I held out my arms, the sleeves drooping over my hands. Be my guest. You think I’m enjoying this?

Peter loudly cleared his throat, and Daisy and I turned to look up at him. “We’re, uh, creating a bit of a scene.” He lifted his chin. “I see Rachel in the back….”

I swept an arm forward, my hand hidden inside the tweed jacket. “Lead the way.”

As we threaded between tables draped in fine linens toward the wall of windows that looked out over the grassy grounds of the club, Daisy and I shot each other dirty looks behind Peter’s back. We passed an enormous stone fireplace, crackling with warmth, and on a low stage at the far wall, a lute player strummed his instrument, the soft melody creating a tranquil mood. One that Daisy and I had inadvertently been doing our best to disrupt.

Peter led the way to a small table near the windows with a view of the terrace and all its swaying lanterns. Rachel flipped her strawberry blond locks over her shoulder and laughed along with two other young ladies seated at the table. Her friends spotted us first and sobered up. Rachel turned frowning toward us, then glowered when she recognized us.

“Oh, hello, Officer and… company.” She raised a brow and blinked her buggy eyes, impatient. “Can I help you, or…?”

Peter squared his shoulders. “We need to ask you a few more questions.”

“Well, then.” She turned to her friends. “Ladies, why don’t you hit the sauna, and I’ll come and join you in a few.”

The women shot us concerned looks but rose and moved off. Peter and I took seats around the square table and Daisy lowered to her haunches so she practically sat on Peter’s shiny black shoes.

Rachel lounged back in her chair, knees crossed. “So what’s this about, hm?”

Peter watched her for a moment. “Why did Chaz blame you when Letty ran from the altar?”

She smirked and looked away. “Oh, that?” She flipped a hand. “It might have been a couple of things.”

Soft lute music floated over the murmur of the crowd in the dining room.

I leaned forward. “Such as?”

“Well…” She raised her brows and played with