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

denied it at first, but confessed—that you’d done it for her, for the both of you together. She didn’t take it well, did she? Malorie didn’t like to ask questions—not about where her animals came from or about the death of her husband—but once she knew the truth, she couldn’t handle being with you, knowing you’d killed Richard—because she did have actual feelings for him, that hadn’t been a lie.”

Quincy bared his teeth. “She had feelings for me, too!” His eyes grew huge and wild behind his thick glasses.

I edged closer to Peter, grateful that he and Daisy were by my side. Quincy seemed unanchored and likely to snap at any moment.

I nodded as Peter, Daisy, and I slowly advanced on him. “She did. But still—she told you it was over, didn’t she?”

Tears welled in Quincy’s darting eyes. “We could’ve worked it out. She didn’t mean that.”

I shook my head. “For all her foibles, Malorie wasn’t guilty of the one crime everyone suspected her of. In fact, you killed Richard Rutherford, isn’t that true?”

“What—no!” Quincy’s face turned bright red.

Daisy, who stood beside Peter, barked. Lie!

Peter shook his head, expression grim. “We don’t even need Daisy to tell us you’re lying. We have photo proof—the sanctuary’s mirrors captured you spelling Richard to death, then feeding his body to the plant.” He held up the stack of photos that we’d found.

Quincy stumbled backward toward the wooden rope bridge path that led deeper into the enclosures.

“Don’t go anywhere yet.” I raised my brows. “That was your first murder. You and Malorie had been having an affair back then. You killed her husband, she inherited his entire estate, and when you and Malorie married, you became rich.” I shrugged. “Which meant, when you could see that she was going to leave you, you knew that she could leverage her proof against you and you’d either end up penniless, or worse, thrown in jail for murder.”

I clicked my tongue. “But you two still had to get through the Night of the Phoenix party. You probably fought in the office, which is where you palmed the poison dart—a habit of yours. Grabbing things and carrying them around with you.”

Quincy edged back, shaking his head, mouth agape.

“Rebecca pulled Malorie aside. They argued when Malorie wouldn’t give Rebecca money. She shoved Malorie, and she fell into the phoenix’s cage, hitting her head and knocking her unconscious. The phoenix, tired of her life in captivity, snatched up the talon Malorie wore as a necklace and slashed herself across the heart with it.”

It’d come to me, just then, as I was speaking. That poor woman, Maria Begin, feared that her rebirth would simply mean fifty more years of captivity. As a phoenix, she didn’t even have the respite of death to look forward to—the cycle would go on, endlessly. No wonder she’d made the choice she’d made.

“When Maria died, she shifted back to her human form. Which was when the curtains came up. You, Quincy, were the first person to rush in and drop to Malorie’s side. Which was when you saw your chance.”

He sobbed and pressed a trembling hand to his mouth. “No.”

I nodded. “You told everyone Malorie was dead—you hoped she was. You thought all your problems were solved—if she didn’t leave you, you’d inherit her fortune. She couldn’t turn you in for murdering Richard.” I shrugged. “That was, until she blinked or breathed—somehow you realized she wasn’t dead.”

“That’s not it,” he gasped.

But Daisy barked. Lie!

I smirked—I knew it. I was on the right track. “You panicked… you only had a few moments before Mark came rushing in from the door on the other side. You remembered the poison dart in your pocket, the one you’d pocketed out of habit earlier, and with your back to everyone, pulled it out and stabbed Malorie with it. It’s how you got around Daisy—technically, you didn’t shoot your wife with the dart. You just stuck it in her neck. It did kill her then, and by the time Mark and the others rushed in, she was dead for real.”

Peter set his jaw. “Quincy Rutherford, you killed your wife, Malorie.”

“No!” He shook his head wildly. “I did not!”

Daisy growled and stalked out in front of Peter and me, her hackles raised. Lie!

I smirked. “You didn’t rush out of there to look for the phoenix. You snuck back to the office to grab the blowgun. You planted it to throw us off, didn’t you?”

“No.”

Daisy growled again. Lie. He does nothing but lie.

She stalked him, her ears flat, pointy teeth bared. Man, was I glad to be on her good side—usually.

The thin man lifted his wobbly chin and tried for some false bravado. “And besides the word of a dog and a lot of speculation, what proof do you have, hm?” His pinched eyes darted between us.

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “We have photographic proof of you killing Richard Rutherford and feeding his body to a plant, plus enough circumstantial evidence in Malorie’s case to convict you.”

I held up a finger. “Especially when the judge factors in that you’ve been imprisoning trapped shifters.”

Quincy balled his hands into fists. “Malorie never told me that!”

I smirked. “Yeah, but Mark did. It’s why you hired him back, right? He knew that another vet would figure it out, which put you in a bind.”

Quincy snapped his mouth shut.

Peter pulled a pair of magically glowing gold handcuffs from his back pocket and started toward Quincy. “Quincy Rutherford, you’re under arrest for the murders of Richard and Malorie Rutherford.”

About that time, the backup Peter had called for on our way up the mountain showed up. Several other officers bustled in and took over booking Quincy and reading him his rights.

I pulled Peter aside, glancing around at the many enclosures. “How are we going to prove that these animals are trapped shifters?”

He squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll think of something.”

I bit my lip. “In the meantime, what’s going to happen to all of them?” Would the staff continue to make