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

by Erin Johnson

  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

  Q uincy 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 way I entered.”

  Peter nodded. “And it was fully engaged before you entered?”

  “Yes.” Quincy tapped a long finger to his lips. “Malorie and the other woman must’ve come in the back door that connects to the rest of the sanctuary. It’s camouflaged like it’s part of the rock wall.” He frowned. “There’s also the viewing platform on the second story.”

  Peter shifted on his feet. “Who would have had access to the back door or the viewing platform?”

  Quincy’s gaze grew far away, deep in thought. “You need a key to those. Let’s see… there’s me, and Malorie of course. Then our veterinarian, Mark West, too. Libbie would have turned in her keys, but she left recently enough, and we were so busy with preparations for the party, that we haven’t had a chance to change the locks yet.”

  I glanced at Peter. “So she could have made copies and still gotten in.”

  He nodded.

  Quincy went on. “We keep a spare set of keys in the office.” His throat bobbed and he glanced up, wide-eyed. “Which is where the blow dart gun was kept along with the poison darts.”

  Peter nodded. “Why do you have those?”

  Quincy tipped his head side to side. “Mostly for decoration—we kept the blow gun on the wall. But also in case any of the animals became dangerous and we had to sedate them or, unfortunately, put them down.”

  Peter cleared his throat. “You keep the office locked, I presume?”

  He winced. “Yes, well, except…” He scratched his ear. “I have a habit of forgetting to lock up. Malorie’s told me time and time again we could get burgled.” He shrugged. “With so many people in and out of the house today to get ready for the evening’s festivities, plus if anyone wandered back there during the party… there’s no telling who might have entered the office and got ahold of the spare keys.”

  Peter eyed Quincy, his brow creased. “When you found the blow gun on the wooden walkway, did you touch it or move the weapon at all?”

  Quincy’s throat bobbed, and he snuck a glance at Daisy, whose tongue hung half out of her mouth. He spoke slowly, as though choosing his words carefully. “After I spotted the blow gun on the ground, I didn’t touch it or move it. I just—I just stood there, staring at it, and then the officers found me.”

  Daisy’s tail swished back and forth over the ground, scattering a few fallen leaves. True.

  Peter nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry for your loss. If you think of anything else that could help us, even if you’re not sure how, please reach out.” He fished a card out of the inside pocket of his uniform jacket and handed it to the bereaved husband, who took it and nodded.

  We stepped aside, and Peter leaned around the curve in the walkway. A round mirror hovered slightly above Peter’s head, allowing us to see around the bend. He looked up into it and waved Jones back to stand guard over Quincy.

  I pulled my lips to the side. “I think we should go back and talk to the veterinarian again. He came in that back door and was the second person on the scene. Plus, maybe he has more of an inside scoop to this drama with the former head zookeeper and that Zane guy who infiltrated the sanctuary from that animal rights group.”

  Peter shot me a gri
n. “Sounds good.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “What?”

  His smile broadened. “Nothing, just—you sound like a cop.”

  I gave an exaggerated gasp and looked around, then spoke in a stage whisper. “Keep your voice down. I don’t want you ruining my street cred.”

  9

  PHOENIX NEST

  When we reentered the phoenix enclosure, it appeared to be empty aside from the rushing waterfall and the small jungle of lush plants. I glanced up toward the railing on the second story, then pushed an enormous fern aside, frowning. Daisy bounded off and disappeared among the foliage.

  “Where is everybody?”

  Peter’s shoes clicked along the hard volcanic rock as he walked over to where Malorie and the mystery woman’s bodies had been. “The team must’ve gotten the victims’ bodies to the station already.”

  I followed him, glancing out the transparent force field to the ballroom full of hundreds of guests clad in animal print. They stood in small groups, being questioned by cops. As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on someone staring back at me.

  Ice flooded my stomach as I recognized Ludolf Caterwaul, mob boss of the shifter underground. The skeletal man was flanked by several beefy dudes, no doubt his shifter bodyguards. I wondered with a shudder if the lion shifter was among them—the one who’d almost eaten me.

  As much as I hated to admit it, Ludolf held a gravity larger than his physical size and didn’t need the muscle around him to seem intimidating. Still, I forced myself to hold my ground and meet his gaze without flinching. I wanted to reach out for Peter and point Ludolf out to Daisy and tell her to sic him, but I knew that would only be putting my boyfriend and his dog in more danger.

  Ludolf had already threatened Peter with bodily harm multiple times. I gritted my teeth and balled my hands into fists as the man’s pale eyes bored into me.

  Daisy barked, and I startled.

  “You found something?” Peter turned toward the rustling dark green palms.

  “Call your dog off!”

  I recognized Mark the veterinarian’s voice, and with one last chilling look at ol’ Ludolf, turned away. I followed Peter down a narrow path. He glanced back at me, then did a double take and slowed until I walked beside him. “You okay?”

  I nodded and gulped against the tight knot in my throat. “I spotted you-know-who. And he saw me right back. We had a fun little staring contest.”

  Peter’s warm hand pressed against my lower back, and I grinned gratefully up at him. His jaw was set. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded and waved it off as I turned sideways to slide past a sharp branch. “I mean, we came here to spy on him, right? It shouldn’t startle me to see him—”

  “But it does.” Peter nodded, his deep blue eyes thoughtful. A red flush spread up his neck and ears. “We’ll make this right, Jolene. I promise. He can’t just use you as a test subject for whatever he’s making those potions for.” He heaved an angry sigh through his nose, and I leaned against his side.

  “When we arrest him, can Daisy gnaw on him—just a little?”

  The grim set to Peter’s mouth softened. “Sure—but just a little.”

  I nodded. “Maybe she can bite off a few toes. I doubt he’d miss them.”

  Peter chuckled and slipped his hand around mine.

  I was only half joking. But first, we had to figure out a crime we could actually pin on the slippery snake. Ludolf had a way of lining up his lackeys to take the fall for his multitude of crimes, which I had a feeling we’d just seen the tip of. In any case, I was more than happy to put my personal problems aside and focus on the case in front of us. It made for a nice distraction from my predicament.

  Daisy barked again—over here—and Mark cried out, “Hey!”

  Peter banked hard to the right, and I trailed right behind him, still holding his hand. We came to a little clearing filled with a nest made of sticks and mud about the size of a large beanbag chair. Mark had his back against the rough trunk of a palm tree, palms up, while Daisy wagged her bushy tail and panted up at him. She glanced back over her shoulder at Peter and woofed.

  I found him!

  Mark’s wide eyes darted down to the dog, then back to Peter. “A little help here.”

  Peter bent forward and patted his thighs. “Daisy! Come!”

  The German shepherd bounded over, smiling widely, and Peter scratched behind her pointy ears. “Good girl.”

  “Good?” Mark scoffed as he tugged his white lab coat down. “She nearly bit my head off.” He shot the dog a scathing look, then dug around his pockets till he located his pack of cigarettes and his wand. He used his wand to light the cigarette before stuffing it back in his pocket, then took a drag and blew out a puff of smoke. His shoulders sagged, and his face relaxed.

  I frowned at him. What kind of veterinarian got so angry at a dog and smoked in the enclosure of a creature as rare as a phoenix?

  Peter straightened, and Daisy circled around until she stood with her side pressed against his leg. “Daisy was just looking for you. Where’d everyone go?” Peter’s eyes dropped to the large nest. “And what are you doing in here alone?”

  Mark took another drag of his cigarette, then leveled Peter with a flat look. “Your colleagues took off with the bodies and told me not to go anywhere—so I figured I’d make myself useful and see if I could locate our missing phoenix.” He gestured at the circle of sticks and mud. “This is her nest.” A few fiery red feathers clung to the inside of the nest.

  I crinkled my nose. The humid air smelled of sour cigarette smoke, charcoal, and a warm, musky bird smell. I’d noticed it on myself and other owls before when I could still shift. I sniffed again and found it weirdly comforting, though I guessed the burnt smell was unique to phoenixes.

  Peter nodded. “I appreciate you sticking around—we actually do have some more questions for you.” He glanced around at the vines, trees, and ferns that crowded close to us. “First up—have you found the phoenix or any clues as to where it might be?”

  Mark sniffed and rolled his dark eyes. “None. It’s like she just up and disappeared.”

  Peter frowned. “The bird couldn’t have gotten out the open door while you and Quincy were distracted with the victims?”

  Mark shook his head and blew out a puff of smoke. “If she was loose anywhere around here and burst into flames, you’d know it.”

  Yeesh. I made a face up at Peter. “Nobody’s called in any spontaneous hell fires?”

  His lips twitched like he was fighting a grin. “Not yet, at least.”

  Mark pointed his cigarette at me. “It’s no joke, from what I understand, when a phoenix combusts and then is born again from the flames.”

  I arched a brow. “From what you understand? You haven’t seen it in person?”

  The vet shook his head.

  Peter cocked his head, the large nest still on the ground between us and Mark. “So you weren’t the sanctuary’s veterinarian for the last phoenix rebirth party?”

  Mark scowled at Peter. “That was fifty years ago—how old do I look to you?”

  I bit back a smile as my boyfriend’s throat bobbed and his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. The vet looked like he was in his fifties to me, fairly trim, though his stomach stuck out from his lab coat a bit, and only a few lines showed around his eyes. That was probably a fair reaction on his part.

  I stepped forward and tried to distract Mark from taking offense. “So you never met Malorie’s first husband, Richard?”

  He sniffed. “Nope. She hired me on after he’d already ‘disappeared.’” He made air quotes around the last word. “Worked for her about fourteen years now.”

  Interesting how Mark mentioned working for Malorie—not Quincy. It seemed the new widower had been telling the truth when he said his wife didn’t share a lot of the business responsibilities with him.

  Peter lifted a thick brow. “You don’t believe Malorie’s husband went missing?”

  Mar
k snorted. “I think someone knows where he is.”

  Did he think that someone was his recently deceased boss? “Some people think Malorie dumped his body in the phoenix’s cage during the party fifty years ago. Could the flames from the phoenix’s rebirth have completely destroyed bone and all evidence?”

  Mark took a dramatic drag of his cigarette, then leveled me a serious look. “Anything in that cage—bone, cast iron, shell, probably even that volcanic rock—it would have all been completely obliterated by those flames.”

  Well, that answered that. Not a bad way to dispose of a body, if that was your goal.

  Peter cleared his throat. “When was the last time you saw the phoenix?”

  Mark leaned his shoulder against a vine covered tree trunk. “A couple hours ago, at the start of the party.”

  Daisy wagged her tail and whined. All true so far.

  Peter looked around. “Why did you enter through the sanctuary door and not the ballroom side, where Quincy came in?”

  Mark took a drag, then blew the smoke out. “I was already in the back, on hand in case anything went wrong when the phoenix did her thing.” He rolled the hand that held the cigarette. “Though, in reality, I have no idea what I would’ve been able to do. The flames engulf the entire enclosure and burn so hot we had to have special enchantments cast to contain them.”

  Peter raised a brow. “You were waiting in the back behind the enclosure all night?”

  “Nah.” The vet shook his head. “I was out there, partying, for most of the night. Just went to the back door a few minutes before I heard Quincy take the stage.”

  “And while you were there you didn’t see anyone enter or leave?”

  Smoke poured from Mark’s nostrils. “Nope.”

  Daisy wagged her tail. True.

  Peter shifted on his feet. “And was the door locked before you entered?”

  “Yep. I had to unlock it before I could rush inside.” Mark sighed. “I checked Malorie’s vitals first.” He shook his head. “Dead. As was the other chick.”