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to give me a single coin and I—I got angry and shoved her—” Rebecca’s eyes opened wide, as though the scene were playing out in front of her again. “She fell backward into the phoenix’s cage. And she lay there—unmoving.”

I raised my brows. Well, that explained Malorie’s head wound.

She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth. “I killed her. After that I panicked. I figured the phoenix would burn away the evidence and maybe more of my father’s estate would revert to me. I ran.”

A heavy silence followed until Daisy, pointy ears pricked and hackles still raised, whined. All true.

“Welp.” I squeezed Peter’s shoulder and lowered my voice so that only he could hear. “The ramen carts are still going to be open after you process her. Want to grab some dinner and call it an early night, Officer Flint?”

He turned and gave me a quick grin before clearing his throat and turning back to Rebecca, who stood with her chest heaving and a crazed gleam in her eye.

Yep. Super guilty.

Peter’s scroll and quill magically appeared beside him, and he perused the scribbled writing for a moment before looking up at the madwoman. “Just a couple more things, ma’am?”

Her eyes shifted to his face, and Daisy, who still stood between them, tensed.

“After you pushed Malorie off the railing, what did you do with the phoenix, and why did you kill that other woman?”

I frowned. Oh, yeah. In all the excitement of solving Malorie’s murder, I’d nearly forgotten about our psychedelic Jane Doe.

Rebecca wrung her kerchief. “Phoenix? Other woman?” She shook herself. “I’m sorry—the firebird was in the cage when Malorie fell.” She shuddered. “Her body nearly crushed it. It had to scamper out of the way. Are you telling me it’s not there now?”

I sucked on my lips. “Afraid so. It’s how we figured out Malorie was dead.” I lifted a palm. “The whole unburned body thing?”

Rebecca frowned and shook her head. “And what other woman? I haven’t killed anyone else!”

Daisy, still on alert, let out a curt whine. All true.

Peter and I exchanged confused looks.

He cleared his throat. “Walk us through everything again. You say you pushed Malorie and she fell into the phoenix’s cage?”

“Yes—there’s a second-floor viewing platform. She toppled over the railing.”

Peter nodded. “That would explain the head wound—she probably sustained it when she landed. Did you then go get the blow gun from the office and shoot her with a poisoned dart, just to ensure she was truly gone?”

I nodded—good thinking. She must’ve used the blow gun since it was the only weapon nearby that would allow her to hit Malorie from a distance. She couldn’t risk getting close to the phoenix, after all, not when it was about to burst into flames. I frowned—then again, why hadn’t she just used her wand? And come to think of it, she’d said Malorie fell and landed on her back—but the dart was sticking out of the back of her neck.

Rebecca spluttered. “W-wait—what?! I didn’t do any of that. I have no idea what you’re talking about! Someone shot Malorie’s body with a poisoned dart?” She gaped at us.

Daisy glanced back and whined. All true.

I groaned and thunked my head against Peter’s arm. I knew this had been too good to be true.

Peter tensed. “So we have a second killer?”

I raised a finger. “And let’s not forget a second body, plus a missing bird.”

Peter looked down, lips quirked to the side. “No ramen tonight, I’m afraid.”

“Boo.” I understood but was still disappointed.

Peter aimed his wand at Rebecca, and a pair of glowing magical handcuffs appeared in his other hand. “Rebecca Rutherford, we’re taking you into custody—you’re under arrest for the murder of Malorie Rutherford.” He faltered a moment. “And we’ll figure out the other details later.”

17

The Boys

The station at the top of Bijou Mer bustled and buzzed with energy. Perps sat with their heads in their magically handcuffed hands, cops shouted at each other from across the jumble of metal desks, and stacks of papers, arrest warrants, and case files whizzed through the air overhead.

Edna, the precinct’s manager, waved wildly, half raised from her stool behind the tall front counter. She sank back into her seat, looking relieved, when I pointed her out to Peter. We headed her way, Rebecca Rutherford sandwiched between Peter and Daisy.

“Oh, doll face, I’ve been tryin’ to reach ya!” She let out an exasperated sigh and flashed her eyes at Peter from behind her purple cat glasses.

“Oh. Snakes.” Peter dug around in his pocket and withdrew the gumball-sized communication device. “Sorry, Edna.”

She winked. “No worries, kid. Hey, girlie and toots.”

I grinned and said hello as she reached over the edge of the desk. Daisy pressed her side up against the wood paneling, and Edna scratched the pup’s head. Daisy closed her eyes and groaned with bliss.

Oh—that’s the spot.

Edna’s bright pink lips pressed tightly together as her gaze landed on Rebecca. “And who’s this?” She looked up at Peter. “We booking her?”

He nodded. “Rebecca Rutherford, for the murder of Malorie Rutherford.”

Edna’s thin brows twitched up. “You may want to pass her off to Russo for all the processing.”

Rebecca, whose shoulders sagged, whimpered. “Processing?” She swayed on her feet, the color gone from her already pale face. No doubt the night and all the murdering she’d done had really taken it out of her.

Edna pointed a long, candy-pink nail to our left. “That one better sit down. Leave her to me. Bon wants to see you about something.” She rolled her eyes. “Insists it’s urgent, but you know him. Everything’s urgent.”

Peter sighed. “Thanks, Edna.”

She winked again. “No sweat.” She winked at me. “He being a good boy to you?”

I nodded. “Definitely.”

She let out a deep, raspy laugh. “Hopefully not too good.” She winked again, then called out for Russo.

The rookie cop jolted up from behind one of the nearby desks and dashed over, taking Rebecca off our hands. Peter, Daisy, and I moved a little way off to the side.

He grinned down

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