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

"We may have asked you questions before, but you didn't give us many answers." Peter’s tone was serious but kind. "If you'd like this to be over, you're going to need to cooperate with us. So for starters, how did you break in?"

Libbie scoffed. "I didn't break in. I'm the head zookeeper, like I said, and this animal needs medical attention. I was just getting her to a vet—"

Daisy, still getting rubs from the tall officer, cut her off with a growl. Lies.

I shot Daisy a flat look as she plunked her haunches onto the grassy ground and her leg twitched as if wanting to scratch the same spot the cop was. I rolled my eyes. So intimidating.

Peter's tone grew harder. "As I mentioned when we caught you, my canine partner, Daisy, can smell lies."

I raised my eyebrows. "And she just called you out."

It was hard to tell in the dim light—the cop leaning against the wall had lit his wand for us to see by—but I thought some color rose to Libbie’s cheeks. She let out a sigh. "Fine. I don't work here anymore, but I did up until a week ago. I still have a key—so I didn’t technically break in.”

I nodded. “And this, technically, isn’t your wombat.”

The cop who’d be leaning against the wall stomped forward and held his palm out. Libbie rolled her eyes but dug around in her jeans pocket, then slapped her hand into the cop’s, leaving behind a small gold key.

I frowned. "Why did you break in and steal a wombat, of all things?”

Libby's expression darkened, and she stomped her foot. "I didn't steal her! She's mine!"

Daisy whined, her leg still twitching as the cop worked that spot behind her ear. True.

Libbie frowned at Daisy, then looked hopefully up at Peter. "What did that mean?"

I smirked. “That you're telling the truth."

Peter cocked a brow. "At least, that you believe it's true." He eyed her thoughtfully. "Why do you think the wombat is yours?"

Libby splayed her palms. "I used to have my own private zoo. Malorie and Quincy shut me down."

I scoffed; I couldn't help myself. "And then you went to work for them? That didn’t bother you?”

"No!" It was Libbie’s turn to scoff. “Malorie educated me on how what I was doing was hurting the animals—keeping them isolated and putting them on exhibit for the public."

I glanced behind me toward the enclosures and couldn't help but feel the sting of irony. It wasn’t a zoo, but the sanctuary still gave tours to the public. If that was hurting the animals, then Malorie’s place hadn't been any better than Libbie’s. At least in that regard.

"Once I realized what I was doing was bad for the animals, I didn't want to keep my zoo going anyway. By joining the sanctuary, I got to help animals and keep working with them."

Peter, both cops, and I dropped our gazes to Daisy, who whined. True.

Libbie raised her chin, as if to say, see. "Besides, I was grateful. I'm in the business to be close to the animals, but before, when I had the private zoo of my own, I was spending all my time behind a desk."

I crossed my arms and leveled Libbie with a “get real” look. "It wasn't weird working for the woman who put you out of business?"

Libby shook her head, her curls bouncing over her shoulders. "No way."

Daisy whined again. Truth.

I scoffed. "You’ve got to be kidding me." I looked up at Peter. "You think her sniffer is misfiring again?"

Peter shot his dog a doubtful look, then turned back to Libbie. "Okay. So if you were happy working for Malorie and Quincy at the sanctuary for the last…?”

Libbie rocked on her heels. "Five years."

Peter nodded. "Okay, five years. Then what happened for you to suddenly leave a week ago? And why didn't Malorie just allow you to take the wombat with you, if it rightfully belongs to you?"

I thumbed at Peter. "What he said. Because we have a couple of witnesses who seem to think you left on bad terms."

Libbie sucked on her full lips and darted a glance at Daisy. "Look, Malorie and I had our differences, yes, and at times it could get a little heated."

Daisy growled. Partial truth.

"So what got you two so heated last week that Malorie fired you?"

A hint of color flushed her cheeks. "Oh, well…." Libbie shifted on her feet. "I wanted a raise, and Malorie disagreed. I laid out my arguments and… eventually we agreed to part ways with a generous severance payment." She shot me a pointed look. "She did not fire me."

I pressed my lips tight together and returned the look. I’d bet there was a lot more to it than that.

Libbie stepped a little closer and held her palms up. "I know they're in the middle of their hoity-toity party, but just go get Malorie and ask her. I'm sure she'll say it's fine if I take Cassie.”

Right. So fine that Libbie decided to just go ahead and take the wombat in the middle of the night, dressed all in black, and leave by hopping the wall. I frowned as the other thing she’d said sunk in.

Peter frowned and asked the question on the tip of my tongue. "Wait. Go ask Malorie?” He glanced at the other officers, then back at Libbie. "Do you not know?"

Libbie grew still, brows pinched in doubt. "Know what?"

Peter licked his lips and softened his tone. “Malorie Rutherford is dead.”

14

Libbie

“You weren’t aware of that?”

"What?" Libbie gasped and searched Peter's face. "No!"

Daisy wagged her tail and whined. Truth.

Libbie yanked her hands out of her pockets and dragged them down her face. "What? How?"

Peter and I exchanged looks. She clearly didn't kill Malorie, unless she’d managed to do it without knowing she’d done it. And that didn't seem likely, given the one victim was hit over the head and shot with a poisoned dart,