“Fine. He did this. Crow did this.” She leaned her back against the wall and peered out the slight opening at the edge of the curtain, spying on her yard.
“Where’s your penguin?”
She jerked her head toward the main part of her house. “I got him just in time. No one had arrived yet. Well, just that family across the street. Such nice, quiet people. Really keep to themselves.”
Except they really didn’t. They were a family of shapeshifters who wore more than one human face when they were out and about. She’d probably seen them and talked to them a lot more than she thought.
“Did you see Crow do this?”
She sucked the cigarette, then stamped it out. “You know it’s him. He’s been terrorizing me and my poor penguin for months.”
No, he’d borrowed her penguin once and taken it to the beach for a selfie.
Crow was a good-looking guy, and his Instagram post had gone viral. The picture of him and his lonely homie penguin had gotten over a million likes.
It didn’t hurt that Crow had been shirtless and knew how to pose.
Mrs. Yates hadn’t liked him much, but now that he’d stolen her limelight, she despised him.
“But you didn’t see him, did you?”
She pulled a lighter out of her pocket. “Everyone’s seenplentyof him,” she muttered.
“He apologized for taking the penguin. And you agreed, on camera for his Instagram viewers, that you were happy with the arrangement.”
“Hmmph. Arrangement,” she snarled.
“Arrangement. Any money he makes off those pictures goes toward the local food bank first, wildlife conservation second. To save the real penguins. The newspaper picked up the story and used your photo. Remember that? Remember how they said you were a local celebrity and philanthropist?”
She tipped up her nose. “Well, I got over it.”
Myra called out a new order, and a chuckle ran through the crowd.
I should have stayed out there and wrangled the unruly masses. I rolled my shoulders and exhaled one slow breath.
“All right. Let’s start from the top. When did you notice there were penguins in your yard?”
“This morning.”
“Did you see anyone at your house last night?”
“No.”
I didn’t think I needed to ask, but I did anyway. “Were you home?”
“Yes.” Here her eyes cut to one side.
Interesting.
“Talk me through the moment when you saw them.”
“There was a knock at the door. By the time I got here—I was bathing—and opened it, there was a note on the door.”
“Note.”
“Yes.”
“Can I see it?”
