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

more shrieks. This time I caught sight of her long, rat-like front teeth. Oh, good. So she was basically an enormous rodent.

Oh, yeah! She's my girl! I love this lady. She raised me by hand.

Okay. That was a good sign for Libbie, but it didn't necessarily mean Cassie wanted to go with her. I took a deep breath and let out a few more grunts and clicks. Cassie, Libbie is leaving the sanctuary for good. She wants to take you with her. Do you want to go with Libbie, or would you rather stay behind at the sanctuary?

Cassie bounced on her back legs and let out some low grunts. I want to go with Libbie! I want to go with Libbie!

I raised my brows. Well, that was pretty definitive. But I tried again, grunting and growling. You sure? You don't want to stay behind with your other wombat friends?

Cassie’s eyes narrowed, and she let out a low growl. No way. There's only one other wombat, anyway. That guy is—she cocked her head, thinking—that guy is weird.

I frowned. Weird, how?

She grunted. Hard to talk to. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. She threw her head back and jumped again. I want to go with Libbie! Libbie, Libbie, Libbie!

All right, that settled it for me, at least. I dusted off the black slacks I'd borrowed and stood, dragging the pack back to the little group.

Libbie watched intently, her hands clasped together. "Well?"

I looked at Peter and shrugged. "Cassie said she wanted to go with Libbie.”

The former zookeeper let out a happy shriek and dashed over to the pack, scooping the wombat and the bag up together and holding them tight to her. She squeezed her eyes shut, still squealing and rocked back and forth.

While I knew we weren't technically following the letter of the law, I couldn't help but smile up at Peter. He’d done a good thing, reuniting a wombat with her adopted mother. I squeezed his arm. "Nice work Officer Flint. You’ve made that lady and that wombat very happy.”

Peter nodded, his lips pressed tight together. I suspected he wasn't entirely comfortable with this decision, but I felt it was the right one, morally. Most of the time, people had to guess at animals’ wishes and make the best decisions they could. But in this case, Cassie had let us know exactly what she wanted for herself, and I thought it right to honor that. Plus, the two of them were pretty cute together.

Peter cleared his throat. "Miss Brown?"

Libbie and the wombat, still embracing each other, looked our way.

Peter’s tone grew serious. "Don't leave the island—you’re still a suspect in an active investigation."

Libbie nodded and went back to squealing and hugging Cassie. Peter glanced down at me, his expression soft, and winked.

15

Rebecca

Peter, Daisy, and I left Libbie to celebrate with her wombat and headed back toward the big stone mansion.

"I think we need to go speak to this Rebecca Rutherford person, Malorie’s stepdaughter." Peter's warm hand wrapped around mine.

"Agreed." I ticked the facts off on my free hand. "We have multiple witnesses who all say Rebecca hated Malorie, she crashed the party tonight, and Libbie saw the two of them arguing in the sanctuary. Quincy probably left the office unlocked, giving Rebecca access to the poisoned dart. She's got means, motive, and opportunity."

Peter grinned down at me.

"What?" I pursed my lips and opened my eyes wide.

He shook his head, smiling. "Nothing, just… you sound like a cop again."

I grinned, pleased. "Or a good lawyer."

After some asking around, we discovered that Rebecca was no longer at the party. I raised my brows at that. "Fleeing the scene of a crime? Sounds like something a murderer would do."

Peter called up to Edna at the station using his magical communication device and got Rebecca Rutherford's address.

Peter, his canine partner, and I trekked through the blustery fall night, my hands shoved in my pockets, until we reached the lower tier of the island, just a couple of levels above my own home in the dingy Darkmoon Nightmarket district.

A bell rang as we stepped into the building's lobby. Scratched brass mailboxes lined the left-hand wall, while a flickering chandelier cast the only light in the mildewed space. We made our way across a rug that looked like it was more dust than fabric and climbed the rickety, groaning staircase to the third floor.

I raised a brow. "This is where Rebecca lives? I thought the Rutherfords were well-off."

Peter glanced back at me. "Quincy told us that Malorie’s first husband left everything to her, remember?” He frowned as he took in the peeling wallpaper and the sparking enchanted oil lantern on the wall. "Guess he meant everything."

Something heavy thumped against the hallway wall to our right, and shouts sounded behind the next door. Peter hesitated, clearly wanting to intervene, but I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him forward.

"One case at a time, Officer Flint."

Peter rapped on the door with a brass number three nailed crookedly into it. Light footsteps sounded, followed by the click of several locks, and then the door opened a crack. A pale eye peered out at us.

"What do you want?"

Hospitality at its finest.

Peter cleared his throat. "I'm Officer Flint, and this is my partner, Daisy." He turned to look at me, and his lips twitched toward a smile. "And this is police consultant Jolene Hartgrave. We're looking for Rebecca Rutherford?"

The woman’s eye, barely visible through the dark crack in the door, grew wider, then her lid fluttered and she stumbled back. "I— Now is not a good time. Come back later."

I pressed my lips together and raised my brows at Peter. That was exactly what a guilty party would do.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but this can't wait. Are you Rebecca Rutherford?"

The woman let out a choked sob, then dragged herself to the door. She slid the chain off then opened it wider. She stood to the side, her head hanging, and gestured for us to enter. "Yes, I'm Rebecca