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.
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.
