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crossed my arms and drummed my fingers on my elbow. “Any idea where Rebecca is now?”

He shook his head. “I spotted her earlier this evening across the room. Haven’t seen her since.”

As Peter perused his notes, the lull in questions was filled with odd animal hoots and chilling wails. I curled my lip as I looked around the thick foliage. Aside from Daisy, I couldn’t spot any animals, but the hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I had no doubt we were being watched.

Peter looked up from the scroll. “So you don’t have any idea who our other victim is? Maybe Malorie mentioned her?”

Quincy turned his palms up. “I honestly have no idea who that is.”

Daisy wagged her tail. All true.

He looked down and to the side, brows pinched together. “Though, she’s dressed like a hippie.” He jerked his head up, eyes wide. “Maybe she works with that Zane Perez bottom feeder at WWAAC.” It was the first hint of anger out of Quincy.

I frowned. “Who? And what is WWAAC?”

Quincy narrowed his small eyes. “Witches and Wizards Against Animal Cruelty.” He scoffed. “Maybe she’s one of those wackos, too.” He threw his hands up. “Oh, we can’t cage animals, but we have no problem murdering an innocent woman!” The color rose to his face.

Wow. I blinked. This guy really hated those animal advocates. I’d have thought an animal sanctuary would be pretty buddy-buddy with people who wanted to help animals.

Peter glanced at his notes, then shook his head. “Who is Zane Perez?”

Quincy glared, his cheeks red. “He infiltrated our sanctuary pretending to work as a zookeeper for months.” He pressed his thin lips together. “That is, until our head zookeeper—well, former head zookeeper, Libbie Brown, outed him.”

Peter jerked his head up and leveled him with a sharp look.

“Libbie said Zane approached her, trying to get her to tell him horror stories about all the cruelties that happen here.” Quincy rolled his eyes.

I raised a brow, and Peter stilled.

Quincy spluttered. “And—and of course we’re not cruel to the animals, so there’s nothing to tell.”

I turned to our canine lie detector, who cocked her head and growled. I’m getting mixed signals.

Peter gave Quincy a hard look. “Libbie Brown, you said?”

I glanced at him. “Do you know who that is?”

He raised a thick brow, then turned back to Quincy. “We just apprehended her trying to climb over your estate’s eastern wall with a wombat in her bag.”

I chuckled. “Oh! She’s our wombat thief?” I nodded to myself. “Wow. This just keeps getting juicier.” And here I’d been doubting Quincy would have anything of interest to say.

8

The Plot Thickens

Quincy Rutherford gasped, eyes round in shock, then his flush returned, and he set his jaw. “Well. I expected more of Libbie.”

Interesting. I rested my chin on a fist. “You said Libbie Brown was your former head zookeeper, right? So what’s she doing here tonight?”

Quincy shrugged. “She wasn’t invited.” His expression darkened. “Though she clearly had plans of her own.”

Hm. Was our wombat stealer also a murderer?

Peter jumped in. “How long did Libbie work for you and why doesn’t she anymore?”

Quincy scratched one of his large ears. “Well, er, years, I’d say… not sure how many exactly. But Malorie let her go about a week ago.”

And now Malorie was dead? Peter and I exchanged looks. Seemed to me like being fired after years of employment might be a good motive for murder. Maybe there was more to this wombat prison break than initially washed up on shore.

Quincy answered the question I’d been about to ask. “I, uh—I’m not sure why Malorie let her go. There was a lot of the sanctuary business my wife didn’t discuss with me. But I was under the impression it was a fairly amicable parting of ways—my wife paid her a handsome severance.”

Daisy wagged her tail. True.

Huh. I frowned down at her bushy tail. If Libbie hadn’t left on bad terms, why had she snuck onto the premises and stolen a wombat, of all things? If it were me, I’d have gone after a way cooler creature. I frowned—there was still the matter of the missing phoenix. Was the former head zookeeper involved?

Peter dragged a hand through his hair and roughly scratched the back of his neck. He looked as perplexed by all this information as I was. “Okay. What happened to that Zane Perez fellow from WWAAC that Libbie reported?”

“We fired him, of course.” Quincy glared. “Told him never to come back.” His eyes widened. “Maybe he sent one of his cronies after Malorie.”

Peter nodded. “So to recap, you have no idea how your wife or this mystery woman ended up in the phoenix’s cage or where the phoenix is?”

Quincy blinked. “None.”

Daisy tilted her nose up to look at Peter and whined. True.

Peter’s shoulders slumped, and I made a mental note to rub them for him later. He’d already pulled a double shift the night before so he could get his beat covered for tonight, in order to be able to work security at this fundraiser—all to help me get intel about Ludolf. And now we’d stumbled into a double murder that was getting more tangled by the minute. I bit my lip—and we hadn’t even spotted Ludolf.

“When was the last time you saw your wife? Before finding her in the phoenix enclosure, that is.” Peter watched our suspect closely.

Quincy looked at the shiny black dress shoes on his feet. “Oh, sands, maybe an hour or so earlier? She was busy working the room and chatting with some of our bigger donors. I spotted her across the room.”

Daisy wagged her tail. True.

Peter nodded. “I’m told there were no signs of a break-in to the phoenix enclosure. Who had keys to it?”

Quincy blew out a gust of air. “Well, there’s the way in through the magical forcefield. That was hidden by the curtains, but with the party, anyone would have seen someone entering that way, plus you’d have had to know the spell to lower it—that’s the

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