“No clue how the bird got out or where it is now.”
10
MARK
Peter’s notes magicked into his hands. While he bent his head and reviewed them, I toed the springy sticks that made up the nest. A few downy red feathers floated loose. We didn’t know who this other woman was, but it was likely she and Malorie had killed each other. Mark might not know who she was by sight, but maybe his boss had talked about her enemies with him. He’d worked with her long enough that they might have gotten close.
“Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Malorie?”
Mark snorted, smoke gushing from his nose. “She’s made plenty of enemies. There’s her stepdaughter, Rebecca, for one.”
Peter and I exchanged knowing looks. Quincy had mentioned her as well and that she’d crashed the party tonight.
Mark crossed one arm over his chest and leaned further into the straight trunk of the palm. “Rebecca’s her stepdaughter from her first marriage to Richard Rutherford. Neither Rebecca nor her mother were friendly to Malorie—saw her as a home-wrecker.” He raised the cigarette hand to the side of his mouth. “Which she was.”
Huh. Had this Rebecca gal sought revenge on Malorie for breaking up her parents’ marriage? If so, though, why wait all these years and do it now? And how had the other woman ended up dead? Had she been some sort of ’70s-themed assassin Rebecca hired?
Mark went on after blowing out another puff of smoke. “I saw Rebecca here tonight. It surprised me—I didn’t think they were in contact.”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “How did she seem?”
Mark shrugged. “Agitated, I guess. Twitchy. She and Malorie left the party together and headed to the back.”
I frowned. “The back?”
He nodded. “Yeah, the sanctuary.” He gestured around us.
Hmm. Had Rebecca lured Malorie back here and then she and the mystery woman had gotten into a fight to the death?
Peter nodded as his quill scratched away at the parchment. “We’ll be looking into that, thank you.” He lifted his broad palm. “Did she have any other enemies that you know of?”
The vet curled his full lip. “Well, our head zookeeper Libbie just left after working here for six years. Malorie claimed it was on amicable terms, but I heard raised voices coming from the office a week ago—it was them two arguing over something.”
Now this was interesting. Quincy had been under the impression that it’d been an amicable split—just more evidence of how much his wife kept him out of the business. Why? Did she not trust him?
From what little I’d seen, he certainly seemed nervous and timid, maybe not someone she could lean on. Or was she protecting him by keeping him out of some less-than-aboveboard business dealings?
I leaned into one hip. “Do you know what their argument was about?”
Mark shrugged. “Not sure, but if I had to guess, it’d be that fellow Zane Perez from WWAAC—Witches and Wizards Against Animal Cruelty.”
Peter and I looked at each other again. Quincy had also mentioned this dude.
Mark rolled his dark eyes. “Pains in our tails. Those people are net cases. A few weeks ago, before Libbie left, I overheard her and Malorie talking about Zane. He’d only worked here a couple months, but Libbie seemed to think he was a plant from WWAAC.”
“And he no longer works at the sanctuary?” Peter’s quill magically scribbled away.
Mark snorted. “Shell, no.”
I drummed my fingers on my arm. “Is that common? For animal activists to pose as employees?”
Mark tilted his head side to side, as if debating. “I don’t know of it happening here before, but I’ve heard of it happening at private zoos. They’re always looking to jump down someone’s throats about this perceived mistreatment or that—but it’s all detritus. They just don’t like animals being behind bars, period.”
I frowned. I could sympathize with the activists. The curse Ludolf Caterwaul had placed on me took away my magical powers, as well as my ability to shift into an owl. Every night I missed taking flight and soaring over the island, the night breeze blowing under my wings.
My stomach tightened as I thought of the phoenix and the other animals in here. At least I still had freedom in human form to move about and do as I wished—these animals couldn’t fly, swim, or roam free at all. Still, it had to be odd that these activists would target a sanctuary. I felt again that they should’ve been on the same side.
Peter’s firm but kind voice jolted me out of my misgivings. “Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else, please let us know.”
Peter, Daisy, and I wound our way back out of the enclosure with Mark leading the way. Peter sent the vet home, then found a couple of cops and asked them to cordon off the phoenix enclosure. We moved off a little ways away from the other cops and stood among a dense grouping of palms that overhung the wooden rope bridge walkway.
I turned to Peter and rattled off the theory I’d been working on. “Okay, so we have a missing phoenix and a woman who looks like she hugs a lot of trees.”
Peter grinned.
“Maybe while Zane Perez worked here, he made mystery woman a copy of the key to the phoenix’s cage. Maybe she’s one of his buddies at the activist group WWAAC.” I splayed my hands. “She gets in, lets the phoenix out, but is interrupted by Malorie when she walks back here with Rebecca, her stepdaughter. A struggle ensues, and maybe Malorie kills the hippie woman with the talon necklace she was wearing, and the woman hits her with a dart that maybe she had on hand to drug the phoenix? Then Rebecca flees?” I scrunched up my face, waiting for Peter’s take.
He nodded. “I could see that.” That
