The Squawking Dead: A Cozy Witch Mystery (Magic Market Mysteries Book 7)

by Erin Johnson

  I let out a breath. “Given the number of animal witnesses, I’m guessing I’ll be working this one.” I gave her a brief grin. “I’ll come find you when I can.”

  She nodded, then we parted ways, Heidi heading toward the kitchen while I dashed toward the phoenix enclosure in little spurts, dodging stampeding guests. The palms and tropical plants with leaves larger than my head loomed closer, the soft rush of the waterfall barely audible over the cacophony of the guests jostling to get out. I shouldered my way through the lineup of gawkers to get a look.

  Both women lay mere feet away on the pad of black volcanic rock near the front of the raised enclosure, at about my chest height. I scanned the cage—from the lush vegetation, to the waterfall and the small pool behind the women, to the railing on the second story that overlooked everything.

  The thin man continued to hold the blond, wailing and rocking. With his back to me, I couldn’t see much, but made out some dark blood pooled on the ground near her head. Her sequined orange-and-red dress, glittering with flames, bunched around her knees.

  The other woman looked to be about fifty years old judging by her long, dark gray hair and the lines around her eyes. She was dressed in bell bottoms, a fringed leather vest, and a shirt with wide lapels. She looked like she was straight out of the 70’s. Had she thought this was a costume party, or just gotten the theme wrong?

  The thin man turned and looked over his shoulder in my direction, toward the rest of the guests. “Is there a doctor?!”

  A door in the back of the enclosure that had been camouflaged as part of the rock wall burst open. A dark-skinned man in a white lab coat dashed inside, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “What the— Let me see her.”

  Malorie’s husband shook his head. “A human doctor! You’re a veterinarian, Mark!”

  The vet rushed forward and dropped to his knees. “Better than nothing. Let me see her.”

  Malorie’s husband moved to the side as the vet took the blond’s face in his hands. I glanced toward the other woman. Was no one going to help her?

  Mark, the vet, gently felt around the blond’s throat, then rolled her onto her side and jerked back. He shook his head and slumped back. His chest heaved as he stared at the blond. “By the waves.”

  I gasped as I spotted what he’d found. A feathered dart stuck out of the back of her neck.

  Mark’s dark eyes shifted to Malorie’s husband. “She’s dead, Quincy.”

  Quincy whimpered and covered his mouth, his eyes glued to his wife’s body.

  The vet shook himself, then crawled over to the other woman and checked for her pulse at her neck and the inside of her wrist. He shook his head. “Dead, too.” He looked at the pale Quincy. “Where’s the phoenix?”

  Quincy let out a gasping sob, scrambled to his feet, and then dashed out the back door of the enclosure that Mark had entered through. The vet stayed slumped on the ground beside the two dead women, and all the guests around me continued to stampede toward the exits. I let out a shaky sigh.

  We had two dead women, a missing phoenix, hundreds of panicked potential witnesses and suspects, and a sanctuary full of animals I’d probably need to speak with. This was going to be a long night.

  4

  BLOWING SMOKE

  Hundreds of shaken guests trickled back into the ballroom after fleeing, clutching their pearls (some literally), and I had no doubt my cop beau had corralled them.

  I sucked in a grateful breath when I spotted Peter enter at the top of the steps, flanked by his German shepherd partner, Daisy, and his boss, Inspector Bon. I waved, trying to catch Peter’s eye. Bon, scanning the room, spotted me.

  His scowl deepened, his heavy brows burying his eyes in shadow. I rolled my own eyes back at him. It’s how we played. He elbowed Peter, jerked his chin in my direction, and then went back to glowering at everyone.

  Unlike his surly boss, Peter’s boyishly handsome face lit up when he spotted me, and I couldn’t help but flash him a bright smile. Despite the two dead ladies in the enclosure directly behind me, happy tingles danced up and down my spine, and my head felt a little light. That could’ve been from the champagne flutes I’d been sneaking off trays all night, but I knew, at least in part, that it was for my handsome cop boyfriend.

  Peter spoke with a few other officers before jogging down the marble steps, Daisy trotting at his side. He made his way through the murmuring crowd over to me.

  He clicked his tongue as he neared. “I leave you alone for a couple hours, and now we’ve got a double homicide?”

  I narrowed my eyes and shot him a saucy look that was ruined by my grin. Since we’d started dating several weeks ago, we’d basically spent 24/7 together, and my cheeks had started hurting on the regular from smiling so much. This guy was turning me soft.

  “Careful how you speak to me.” I tapped his chest. His hard, muscled chest. Focus, Jolene. I shook myself and went back to being sassy. “This is an animal sanctuary—who knows how many animal witnesses we have, and I’m the only pet psychic in town.”

  Well, I could speak with animals, but pet psychic was my cover so people wouldn’t know I was a shifter and shun me. Thankfully, I’d already confessed all this to Peter, and we’d gotten over his initial trust issues.

  His misgivings had more to do with me having lied to him for months, than with me being a shifter. But Peter was one of the good ones. Plenty of magical folk on Bijou Mer discriminated, hard, against you if they caught even a whiff of being able to shift.

  Peter’s deep blue eyes twinkled. “Only pet psychic in town, you say?” He let out a low whistle. “Guess I’d better hire you on as a consultant right away then.”

  I raised my brows and nodded. “I warn you though, I charge a steep rate.”

  He blinked, surprised. “Oh?”

  I stepped closer and grabbed the lapels of his uniform jacket. “Mm-hmm. We might be able to work out a special discount.” I gave him an exaggerated wink.

  A deep pink flush spread up his neck and into his cheeks.

  I rose on my toes, and he leaned down to meet me. I put my lips close to his ear, and his breath quickened.

  I whispered, “I accept bonus payment in the form of ramen, stir-fry, and cups of coffee.”

  I sank back down onto my heels, and he grinned, then shot me a flat look. “Fine, but this is going to be coming out of your petty cash allowance, and let me tell you, the precinct is not generous.”

  I chuckled and slugged his arm. “Alright, enough flirting.” I jerked my head toward the enclosure behind me. “Dead bodies to deal with and all that.”

  He shook his head, still grinning, but gave my hand a squeeze and walked with me over to the entrance to the phoenix’s enclosure. Daisy, his magically lie-detecting canine partner, fell into step beside us.

  “So, you were able to keep the guests from fleeing?”

  Peter looked down at me and flashed his eyes. “Yeah—not that it was easy. I can’t tell you how many times I heard ‘Do you know who I am?’”

  “Typical.” I shook my head. “Now if they’d all just wear name tags, we’d know.”

  Peter grinned. “We did catch someone trying to climb over the fence on the eastern side of the property with a stolen wombat.”

  I choked and snapped my gaze to his face. “A wombat?”

  He nodded gravely. “We’ve had a rash of wombat robberies lately.”

  I frowned as he got me for a second, then rolled my eyes and nudged him with my shoulder. “Har har.” I frowned deeper. “So you found a wombat, but we’re still missing the phoenix?”

  “Seems that way.” Peter let out a sigh, and I had a feeling he was sharing my earlier sentiment—this was going to be a long night.

  A few more officers walked over and ushered all the guests who stood gawking at the dead women away, toward the center of the ballroom. With the space near us clear, I let out a quiet “woof.”

  Hey, Days.

  She shot me a heavy look, her pointy ears slig
htly flattened, and groaned. You two done with all the heavy petting? She huffed. And they say it’s dogs who like the petting.

  I let out a slow whine. Oh, Daisy. The first line was good. The second was overkill. I shook my head. And Germans are so known for their humor and lightheartedness. Not sure what went wrong with you.

  She glared at me as we followed Peter through the magical force field, which Quincy had apparently disabled earlier. I frowned as I remembered the way he’d taken off after Mark asked about the phoenix. The thin, older man had apparently dashed off to search for the missing bird, but where was he now?

  Peter’s canine partner squeezed her eyes shut and yawned wide, baring all her pointy teeth. She licked her chops a few times and blinked bleary eyes at me while groaning. It’d be easier to make light if I was actually able to sleep at night.

  My stomach clenched and I looked quickly at Peter. Help! But with his back to me and Mark the veterinarian already speaking with him, I’d have to field this awkward situation. Peter cast a magical barrier around his bedroom each night (and morning) so that Daisy, who slept in her bed out in the living room, wouldn’t see, hear, or smell anything traumatizing for all of us.

  I cleared my throat, then laced my fingers together and let out a quiet woof. Now, Daisy, when a man and woman love each other and want to express that love in a physical—

  “Bark!” Stop!

  I glanced down and found Daisy staring up at me, the whites showing all around her dark eyes. She barked again, drawing glances from Peter and the vet, as well as a few officers outside.

  What are you thinking? I was talking about the neighbors next door having parties until the wee hours.

  I winced and waved at Peter, then crouched down next to the German shepherd, feeling absurdly relieved. I mean—if that spell didn’t work, who knew what those giant pointy ears would pick up.

  I let out a low whine. You know, forget what I said.

  She huffed. Gladly.

  I scratched the back of my neck and quietly woofed. I’ll ask Peter to put a muffling spell around the living room so it’s quieter for you, okay? And let’s never speak of this again.

  She sniffed and gave me a look, her ears slightly flattened, then stalked forward across the black volcanic rock to join Peter and the vet near Malorie Rutherford’s body beside the pool. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my black slacks and followed, fighting a grin. I’d successfully made a dog feel awkward, so if nothing else, it was a good night for me.

  5

  THE MURDER WEAPON

  A few more cops entered behind me and gathered around Malorie’s body. Daisy circled around her, her black nose twitching as she tested the air. Peter’s quill and scroll for note taking magically appeared and hovered just over his shoulder. The quill scratched at the parchment as the vet spoke.

  “—and then I rushed in and found them like this.”

  Peter nodded. “Did you touch or move the bodies at all?”

  Mark rolled his eyes, a cigarette still hanging from his lips just below his mustache. I frowned—was smoking permitted in here? Much of the sanctuary appeared to be enclosed in the huge atrium-like building. Judging by the warm, humid air inside the cage, it seemed carefully climate controlled. While I was no expert, I’d guess the exotic animals and foliage were pretty sensitive.

  “Course I touched them! I wasn’t sure they were dead till I took their pulses—and didn’t find any.” The vet held up his hands and waggled his fingers—the tips were tinged red with what I guessed was the victims’ blood.

  I crinkled my nose and looked away. When I’d worked as a lawyer, I’d dealt with death but hadn’t gotten up close and personal with bodies until I’d started the consulting gig with Peter and the police. And I still wasn’t used to it. I crossed my arms and watched Daisy sniff the bodies with a mix of awe and disgust—guess eating all that grass and rocks gave her an iron stomach.

  One of the cops crouched beside Malorie’s body removed the feathered dart from the back of her neck and held it up to Peter. “Vic appears to have been killed with this.”

  Peter eyed it, then turned to Mark. “Does that look familiar to you?”

  The vet shrugged, his white lab coat bunching around his neck. “Sure. We keep some darts in the office just in case any of the animals get out of hand. Most contain tranquilizing potions, but I’m guessing that one’s of a little more deadly variety.” He took a drag of his cigarette.

  That little thinking line appeared between Peter’s brows, and he turned back to his colleague. “Bag it up. We’ll send it to the lab.”

  The cop nodded, then pointed a gloved hand at Malorie’s blond hair, matted to her head. “She also has a head wound.”

  I looked away, my stomach turning.

  “It’s bloody, but it’s not always easy at first glance to see how serious a head injury is.”

  I pressed a hand to my unsettled stomach. I was half tempted to look, but didn’t want all those shrimp cocktails I’d nabbed to come back up again.

  Peter blew out a breath. “We’ll have Gabriel take a look.”

  The cops beside Malorie’s body nodded and rose, then withdrew their wands. I snuck glances until they’d spelled her body into a bag and I felt like it was safe to turn around. They’d take her to the station, and Gabriel, the coroner, would weigh in on how she’d been killed.

  Peter turned to the vet, who blew out a puff of smoke. “What happened after you checked for vital signs?”

  The guy shrugged. “I told Quincy that his wife and that other lady were dead. He said something about looking for the missing phoenix and took off.” Mark gestured with his cigarette toward the back door to the enclosure, which still stood ajar.

  “Quincy?”

  Mark raised his brows. “Quincy Rutherford.” He jerked his chin at the body bag being escorted through the back door by the two cops. “Malorie’s husband, and my boss, technically.”

  Technically? Was there trouble in sanctuary?

  Peter licked his lips. “And where’s Quincy now?”

  Mark scoffed. “Shell if I know.”

  Peter’s frown deepened and he turned toward the officers gathered around the other woman’s body. I caught a glimpse of a long red gash running from her shoulder across her chest, right over her heart. Ick. One of the cops used a gloved hand to lift a black horn, or claw, attached to a long, delicate gold chain. Blood stained the razor-sharp tip.

  “What is that?” Peter’s voice held a note of disbelief.

  “Uh… a claw?” The cop sounded confused.

  “It’s a talon.” Mark tossed his cigarette butt onto the volcanic rock and ground it out with his foot. “A phoenix talon, to be precise.”

  Peter let out a heavy sigh. “Why is it on a gold chain?”

  Mark let out a humorless laugh. “Because Malorie had it strung up that way. We had to remove it some years ago because of an injury the bird sustained. She was wearing it as a necklace this evening.”

  I frowned. “Did she wear all the animals’ toenails as jewelry?”

  The vet smirked. “Nah. A phoenix talon is rare. It’s rumored to be the only thing that’ll actually kill a phoenix.” He glanced toward the dead woman. “Though it’s clearly sharp enough to kill just about anything.”

  I risked a glance at the body again and caught sight of gray hair, leather fringe, and reddish-brown blood and looked hastily away. So Malorie Rutherford had suffered a head wound and what was likely a poison dart attack, while this other woman, who looked like she was headed to a ’70s-themed party, had been killed with Malorie’s necklace? What in the shell had happened in here behind that red velvet curtain?

  Peter pointed at the other dead woman. “Do you know her?”

  Mark scoffed. “Never seen that lady in my life.”

  Daisy looked up from sniffing a palm with leaves the size of my torso and wagged her tail. True.

  “Officer Flint!”

  We all turned toward the breathless offi
cer who hung on the doorframe and peeked his head in through the back entrance. I recognized Russo, a rookie cop I’d worked with before. He gulped and pushed his square glasses up his nose. “You—you’re gonna want to see this. I think we, uh, I think we found the murder weapon.”

  6

  LEMURS!

  Peter, Daisy, and I left the other officers to bag up the hippie lady’s body and followed Russo out the back of the enclosure. Russo hunched his shoulders and tried to shrink his enormous frame as he loped ahead of us. I gawked as I took in the sanctuary. Dark, lush foliage made me almost forget we were indoors as we stepped along the suspended wooden walkway.

  The planks creaked and slightly swayed, like a rope bridge that led us through various enclosures. Since the animals were only caged by magic, it was easy to feel totally immersed, as though we’d suddenly stepped into a dense jungle. Plaques here and there announced various animal enclosures and exotic plants. I brushed some tendrils of hair back that had matted to my forehead. The air hung heavy and humid around us, filled with strange animal hoots and howls and insect chirps.

  “Is this place open to the public?”

  Russo glanced back over his shoulder and pushed his square glasses up his nose. “They do tours a few times a night, from what I understand.” He stopped and turned around to face us, gesturing at the ground. “Take a gander.”

  Peter, Daisy, and I gathered around the wooden pipe on the ground. Peter crouched down beside it and poked at it with the tip of his wand. I bent forward, then winced. “Ooh. Blow dart gun?”

  Peter glanced up, and Russo nodded. His own scroll magically appeared in front of him and he scanned his scribbled notes.

  “Quincy Rutherford says they kept it in the sanctuary’s office.”

  I raised my brows. “You found Quincy?”