“They used to visit the grandmother. I’ll find her address and get it to you. Keep track of your expenses and I’ll take care of them when you’re back.”
Peter’s girlfriend Lori worked at a restaurant called Pixieland. The restaurant was light fae themed, boasting a small pond and waterfall inside, surrounded by plants and flowers. It smelled like a tropical forest, but the real draw was the pixies who made their homes amongst the greenery.
There were more pixies here than the last time I’d visited, although I’d only eaten here once when Evie and I were kids. Mom had decided she didn’t like the place.
The pixies were notorious for playing tricks on diners, but it was part of the attraction for humans. They watched wide-eyed as the pixies fluttered by their heads, splashed their feet in their drinks, and tied their shoelaces together.
I breathed in the mossy, floral scent as I headed toward the hostess. “I’m looking for Lori,” I said.
The hostess took one look at the mark on my arm and her eyes widened. “I hope she’s not in trouble.”
“She’s not. I just need to talk to her.”
“She’s due for a break soon. Um,” she glanced around. “Do you mind waiting at the bar?”
“Nope.”
I took a seat on one of the wooden stools and shook my head at the bartender as he raised an eyebrow. A pixie sauntered across the bar in front of me, placing his hands on his hips.
“I know you,” he said. I wracked my brain and then it hit me.
“You were at Mariam’s office, right?”
He nodded, his wings fluttering behind him as he rose a few inches into the air. “When you finished your investigation, the humans who were mean to us no longer came to clean. The one with the sucking machine disappeared. The new humans are nice.”
The woman had been threatening the pixies with her vacuum. “I’m glad they’re not being mean to you anymore.”
Pixies saw and heard all. May as well give it a shot. “Have you heard anything about the fire at the coven?”
He shook his tiny head. “They say it was an inside job though. Not many people could get through the ward on that coven.”
“Yeah.”
“You wanted to speak with me?”
I turned on the stool. Lori had long, braided hair and dark eyes. Her smile was incredibly sweet, and a pixie hung to one of her hoop earrings. He narrowed his eyes at me curiously.
“Do you enjoy working at this place?”
Lori flashed her sweet smile. “I like it here. If you’re nice to the pixies, they’re nice to you.”
We both turned at a shriek from the tables near the pond. A pixie zipped between a waitress’s feet, tripping her, and the tray she was carrying went flying as she hit the ground. The pixies surrounding her laughed, the sound like bells.
“I’m guessing she’s not nice to the pixies.”
“Hates them,” Lori said, her hand sliding up to cover her mouth. “She’s on parole. Couldn’t find a job anywhere else.”
People were rushing over to the waitress to help her to her feet. I turned back to Lori.
“I’m investigating a hit and run. I just have a couple of questions to ask you if you don’t mind.”
A tiny line appeared between her brows, but she sat down next to me. “Wow, it’s good to be off my feet. I don’t have a car.”
“We’re investigating Peter Hanson.”
Lori stared at me. The pixie hanging from her earring gave me a vicious scowl.
“Peter wouldn’t do anything like that. He hates violence.”
