by Erin Johnson
One of Will’s bushy brows arched. “And how many potions has he tried on you since our little mission started, sister?”
I rolled my eyes. “Two, but they haven’t had any effect, good or bad.”
“Mm-hmm.” He pursed his lips and nodded. “Oh good, just two. And how long do you think this can go on before something terrible happens? A few more tests? Less?” He batted his lashes at me.
I shot him a flat look. “And what do you suggest I do instead?”
He huffed but dropped his gaze. “I already told you I’d give you money—I have old friends in the Earth Kingdom you could stay with.” He hugged his hairy arms tighter around himself.
I shook my head. “I’m tired of hiding.” I shot him a sassy look. “Besides, you agreed to help me look into the sea slug, which makes you as much of a target as I am. Why aren’t you going into hiding with these friends?”
He rolled his eyes. “For one, he’s not testing deadly—”
I held up a finger. “Possibly.”
He glared. “—possibly deadly potions on me, Jolene. Second, you’re not the only one who wants to get out from under Ludolf’s control, okay?”
He grew quieter as he studied the speckled linoleum floor. “And third, those friends are actually two elderly aunts, and I might have accidentally shifted in their presence when I was like sixteen, and might have, again accidentally, eaten one of their precious cats and may, as a result, not be welcome back there. Though they’d love you, so it’d be fine.”
Heidi spun on her stool and gaped at him. “You ate a cat?”
I curled my lip. “Ew.”
Will huffed, indignant. “I was sixteen!”
I gawked. “Is that supposed to make it better?”
“I didn’t know how to control shifting back then, okay, Jolene? My powers had just started kicking in.” He leaned forward and flashed his eyes at me.
Heidi frowned. “Did your aunts tell your parents?”
He rolled his eyes. “My aunts didn’t realize I was the bear. Apparently they walked in, found me in bear form… you know… and then chased me out of the house, and I bounded off into the forest.” He shrugged. “I came back later and pretended I’d been hiding under the bed. When they asked me how the bear got in, I panicked and told them it’d knocked on the door and I let it in without checking who it was first.”
A long moment of silence stretched out.
I pressed my eyes shut and held up a hand. “Hold on… and they believed you?”
“Yes.” Will nodded, emphatically. “And they still haven’t forgiven me to this day for letting a bear into the house.”
“Wow,” Heidi breathed. “Your family’s—”
“What?!” Will shot her a challenging look.
She glanced down at her lap. “Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought.” Will turned back to me. “Anyway, back to your slipping powers and the diabolical maniac who’s using you as a lab rat.”
I sighed and slumped lower in my seat. “Right. Back to those cheery subjects….”
Heidi nodded. “I think you need to get back into that zoo—”
I held up a finger. “Sanctuary—they were very clear about that.”
She waved it away. “Whatever. You need to get in there and grill those animals.”
I cocked my head and narrowed one eye.
She giggled. “Not like that. I meant—ask them the tough questions.”
I nodded. “I agree. I just hope they’ll understand me.” I turned to Will and cut him off. “And as to your concerns, Madeline L’Orange left me a note that she’s found something, okay? Hopefully we’ll be able to arrest Ludolf soon.”
“Not soon enough,” Will grumbled, though he unfolded his arms and looked slightly appeased.
We caught up for a little longer, then I rose and put the chair back in its place against the waiting room wall. “Well, I’m off to meet up with Peter.”
Will shot me a saucy look. “Surprise, surprise. Do you even sleep at your own place anymore?”
I grinned. In truth, I’d barely been home more than a few nights in the last month.
“Oh, have your fun.” Will sighed. “While you still can.”
I shook my head at him as I headed back into the drizzly night, my backpack slung over one shoulder. I knew Will teased and poked at me, but it was just because he was worried about me. “Always the optimist.”
He pointed at me. “I’m a realist, Jolene!”
I winked at him before letting the door swing shut behind me. “Love you, too.”
19
COFFEE
It was tough to get out of Peter’s comfy bed the next evening, but we had sleuthin’ to do. I dragged a brush through my hair, threw on some jeans, an old band tee, and a worn bomber jacket, then shuffled out the door yawning.
Daisy lifted her snout skyward, her wet black nose twitching. Her eyes narrowed at me, and she whined. You go down the stairs first. Your breath smells like death, and you’re moving like a zombie. I don’t want you to fall and take me and my Peter down with you.
I rolled my eyes and whined back at her. Har har. I just need coffee. We were headed, per the usual, to the cafe at the bottom of Peter’s building. One of the many reasons I loved staying over with him.
Peter locked the apartment door behind him and then grinned at me, color flushing into his cheeks. I grinned back—and there was the main reason.
We headed down a few flights of stairs, my head pounding. Peter waved hello to an elderly couple on their way up, and I grunted something close to a greeting. I really needed some caffeine to be functional—it was healthy.
The enchanted bells of the island tolled, signaling that the last ferry was leaving for the mainland, taking all the human tourists back with it. Which meant it was time for the magical folk to come out in droves and all the magical shops to open.
We briefly headed out of the brightly lit, clean lobby into the drizzly cobblestone street, and headed next door to the cafe. A bell tinkled on the door as we stepped inside—the earthy aroma of coffee and the warmth of the shop already easing my case of just woke up grumpiness.
Jacques, an older man in a white apron, waved from behind the glass pastry case. “Ah, Peter, Jolene, hello!” He held up a finger and dipped behind the glass, emerging a moment later with a pretzel.
Daisy’s pointy ears pricked, and she licked her lips.
I let out a quiet whine. You’re drooling.
She barely spared me a glare before refocusing on Jacques and the treat in his hands. She growled. So are you.
Oops. I quickly wiped the corner of my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket. Maybe my dependency on coffee had gone too far. I took another whiff of the bitter, comforting drink and grinned. Oh, well.
Jacques came around the side of the elaborately carved wooden counter topped with marble and bent over in front of Daisy.
“Well, hello, Miss Daisy, how are you today? Care for a pretzel?” His dark eyes darted up to Peter’s face. “It’s completely canine safe.”
Peter grinned. “Of course. Thanks, Jacques.”
The old man cooed over Daisy, who tapped her front paws in excitement. He offered her the pretzel with an open palm, and she lunged and gobbled it up so quickly, I startled.
I curled my lip. Geez. Didn’t know she could move that fast. We left the pup cracking into the pretzel, spitting bits and crumbs everywhere on the black-and-white honeycomb tile floor. The owner of the cafe watched her a moment longer, wiping his hands on a towel that hung out of his apron pocket, then walked, chuckling, back behind the counter.
“The usual?”
“Yes, please.” Peter dipped his chin, but I shook my head and held up a few fingers.
“I’m going for a triple today.”
His eyes widened. “Oh, my. The lady needs her evening boost.”
I nodded. “The lady does.”
Peter slid an arm around my shoulders, and I hugged close to his side. All the little round
tables were empty—it was still early—but I was sure the place would be bustling soon. Jacques made a very good—and more importantly, very strong—cup of joe.
As the older man bustled about, steaming milk for Peter’s mocha and grinding fresh beans, my cop boyfriend’s pocket buzzed. I jumped back, and he grinned, then fished the gumball-sized communication device out and popped it in his ear.
“I’ll be right back.” He held up a finger, then stepped out into the wet street, the bell tinkling behind him.
I slid over to stand closer to Daisy, who was dragging her tongue across the floor in an attempt to lick up every last morsel of that pretzel.
I glanced at Jacques, who stood with his back to us, his huge brass coffee equipment loud with its hisses and grinding noises. I didn’t bother to lower my voice too much when I let out a bark. Do you want me to give you and the floor a moment or…?
The dog jerked her head up and blinked at me as if she’d forgotten where she was. Then she glared at me, and her lips twitched back, revealing white, pointy teeth. You’re one to talk. I’ve seen you clean out a corpse’s fridge.
I tipped my head side to side and woofed. Not my finest moment, I’ll give you that. Then again, I was basically starving, so you do what you have to, you know? I cocked a brow. You act like Peter doesn’t feed you.
I was saved whatever witty comeback the dog would have hurled at me by Peter stepping back inside. He sidled up close to me and lowered his voice. “That was Gabriel—they have the results of the autopsies back.”
I perked up. “And?”
“Malorie Rutherford suffered a blow to her head, but it wasn’t fatal. The poisoned dart, which hit her after the fall, is what killed her.”
I cocked a brow. “So she was still alive after her stepdaughter pushed her into the phoenix’s enclosure?”
Peter nodded. “And the blow gun was wiped clean of fingerprints, so nothing there.” He heaved a sigh.
I frowned. “So that means Rebecca Rutherford isn’t guilty of murdering her stepmother?”
Peter shook his head. “She’ll still be charged for assaulting her, but someone else killed Malorie Rutherford after Rebecca pushed her into the phoenix’s cage.”
I bit my lip and eyed the brewing pot of coffee hungrily, willing my brain to function without its fuel. “Could there have been a fight between Malorie and that mystery woman in the cage?”
Peter nodded, his gaze far away. “We’re really not sure yet, but it’s one possibility. As expected, the mystery woman died of the talon slash to the chest.” He frowned. “Gabriel’s not completely sure, but he said based on the angle, it appears it might have been self-inflicted.”
I shook my head, none of it making sense. “The talon that Malorie was wearing that night as a necklace? The other woman might have used it to kill herself.”
Peter nodded. “It makes no sense.” He sighed. “I’d like to visit WWAAC headquarters and see if this Zane Perez fellow or anyone there might recognize her. It’d sort of make sense if she was a member of the animal rights group and had snuck into the cage to try and free the phoenix. Besides, we can question Zane about what he learned when he infiltrated the sanctuary undercover.” He bit his lip. “Maybe Rebecca Rutherford pushed Malorie into the cage and fled before she realized there was already someone else there, the mystery woman, who was trying to rescue the bird based on Zane Perez’s intel. Maybe Malorie was injured, but not too badly, and tried to stop her from stealing the phoenix. The two got into a fight and it ended with both of them dead. Unless the woman killed herself, in which case, I have nothing.
I shrugged. “If the mystery woman and WWAAC were trying to liberate the phoenix, it looks like they were successful. We still have no idea where the phoenix is, right? And shouldn’t someone have seen a giant fireball when it combusted?”
Peter pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Unless they had a special enclosure to contain it, like the one at the sanctuary.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Speaking of which, I talked with Will and Heidi last night. I’d like to go back to the sanctuary and try speaking to those lemurs again… and any other animals that might have witnessed something.”
Peter slid his arm around my shoulders. “Good idea. Oh—also, Russo discovered that that appointment in Malorie’s calendar for today was with a lawyer. The gal says Malorie wanted to draw up divorce papers and change her will.”
I leaned away from Peter and raised my brows at him. “Hmm… seems like their marriage was in more trouble than Quincy made it sound like.” This case was a mess, but at least we had some good leads.
Jacques turned around and slowly slid two white to-go cups across the marble counter to us. Thank the sea goddess for coffee—I needed my brain working for this one.
20
MONKEY
Q uincy, eyes rimmed in red behind his thick glasses, met us himself and let us back into the glass-enclosed part of the sanctuary. It’d been bright and loud and filled with hundreds of guests the other night, but now it just seemed dark, quiet, and eerie. Especially as we passed the collection of enormous carnivorous plants near the entrance. I guessed this was Quincy’s contribution to the sanctuary, as he’d once been the gardener.
I noticed the round mirrors suspended high up that allowed one to see around the corners of the path were now covered in black mourning cloths—just like the mirrors at Rebecca’s place had been in honor of her deceased mother. I hugged close to Peter, glad for his company.
Daisy wandered to the edge of the wooden rope bridge that meandered through the enclosures, suspended about six feet about the ground. She leaned forward, paws at the edge, and sniffed the humid air. Lush tropical trees and ferns crowded around us, while odd animal hoots sounded from somewhere in the dense foliage.
Quincy fingered a leaf. “I was about to have a meeting with a sanctuary employee, so I’m sorry, Officers, but I’ll be needing to leave shortly.” He raised his thin brows. “I understand Rebecca was arrested for—” He sniffled, and his weak chin quivered. “—for Malorie’s murder.” His voice cracked on the last word, and I looked to Daisy, who watched him with her head cocked.
Her verdict seemed to be out on how authentic this display of grief was.
Peter nodded. “It’s true that she’s been arrested, but her charges have been dropped to assault. We believe Malorie’s killer is still at large.”
Quincy’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “What are you saying?”
I rolled a shoulder, already itching to ditch my jacket in the warm, wet space. “It means you’re still a suspect.”
His breath hitched.
Peter’s brow creased. “We know about Malorie seeking a divorce.”
“What— I—” His hands fluttered as he patted at the pockets of his beige trousers. He pulled out a handful of pencils, a folded envelope, and even a few leaves. He frowned and shoved them back in his pockets, then fished a kerchief out of the pocket of his white button-up shirt.
He dabbed at his moist forehead, then glanced around and plunked down on the wooden bench that faced a plaque that announced this swath of jungle as the koala enclosure. He shook his head, eyes on his loafers. “It was a recent decision—I was hoping she wasn’t really going to go through with it, but I guess part of me knew she was serious.” Daisy, still watching him intently, wagged her tail. True.
He looked up at Peter. “Wait—how do you know about it?”
Peter cleared his voice, tone gentle. “Your wife was changing her will and already had an appointment with a lawyer to draw up divorce papers.”
Quincy stared at him for a moment, then his gaze grew far away. “Wow.” He let out a whimper. “She was moving fast.”
I frowned. “You didn’t know?”
“That she already had an appointment?” He blinked at me. “No.”
Daisy whined. Truth.
I shrugged my jacket off and hung it over one arm. My underarms were wet, and my shirt stuck
to my lower back, and annoyance got the best of what little tact I usually had. “I’m gonna ask you again—did you shoot Malorie with the blow gun and kill her to keep her from leaving you and taking all her wealth with her?”
Peter shot me a surprised look but turned quickly back to watch Quincy’s reaction.
His cheeks flushed bright pink and he opened and closed his mouth several times as if gasping for air. He looked, wide-eyed, at Daisy, then his throat bobbed and he looked at me. “I—I’ll have you know I’ve never fired that net-tangled blow gun.” He huffed. “Frankly—frankly, I wouldn’t even know how to use it.”
Daisy whined. True.
I frowned. Not what I’d been expecting. The man had a good motive—his wealthy wife was about to leave him penniless. Even if he hadn’t known she was definitely making moves to initiate divorce, he knew she was considering it.
Quincy lifted his face. “And besides, I have witnesses that place me out in public the whole night!” He shook a finger at Peter. “I—I didn’t even have time for a bathroom break, I’ll have you know.” He shook his head. “I never even went into the sanctuary all night until after we pulled back the curtains and found Malorie sprawled on the ground like that.” His voice broke again, and he covered his mouth with a trembling hand.
I raised a brow as Daisy whined. True.
I shook my head at Peter, and he moved away from Quincy to stand close to me.
I shrugged. “Dead end, I guess.” I fought a grin. “No pun intended.”
Peter’s lips twitched, and his eyes danced. “So inappropriate.”
I had to put a hand over my mouth to hide my smirk. Yeah, flirting at a crime scene was probably not the most professional… but it was fun.
A middle-aged man in servants’ livery approached, the wooden plank pathway swaying under his feet. He approached Quincy, bent down, and murmured something in his ear, then bowed. Quincy stood. “If you’ll please excuse me, I have that appointment I mentioned earlier.”
Peter and I exchanged glances, and I shrugged. I couldn’t think of any other questions for him at the moment. Peter nodded, then addressed Quincy. “We’re done with you for now, but I’d like a few words with your employee here?”
