Libbie frowned at Daisy, then looked hopefully up at Peter. "What did that mean?"
I smirked. “That you're telling the truth."
Peter cocked a brow. "At least, that you believe it's true." He eyed her thoughtfully. "Why do you think the wombat is yours?"
Libby splayed her palms. "I used to have my own private zoo. Malorie and Quincy shut me down."
I scoffed; I couldn't help myself. "And then you went to work for them? That didn’t bother you?”
"No!" It was Libbie’s turn to scoff. “Malorie educated me on how what I was doing was hurting the animals—keeping them isolated and putting them on exhibit for the public."
I glanced behind me toward the enclosures and couldn't help but feel the sting of irony. It wasn’t a zoo, but the sanctuary still gave tours to the public. If that was hurting the animals, then Malorie’s place hadn't been any better than Libbie’s. At least in that regard.
"Once I realized what I was doing was bad for the animals, I didn't want to keep my zoo going anyway. By joining the sanctuary, I got to help animals and keep working with them."
Peter, both cops, and I dropped our gazes to Daisy, who whined. True.
Libbie raised her chin, as if to say, see. "Besides, I was grateful. I'm in the business to be close to the animals, but before, when I had the private zoo of my own, I was spending all my time behind a desk."
I crossed my arms and leveled Libbie with a “get real” look. "It wasn't weird working for the woman who put you out of business?"
Libby shook her head, her curls bouncing over her shoulders. "No way."
Daisy whined again. Truth.
I scoffed. "You’ve got to be kidding me." I looked up at Peter. "You think her sniffer is misfiring again?"
Peter shot his dog a doubtful look, then turned back to Libbie. "Okay. So if you were happy working for Malorie and Quincy at the sanctuary for the last…?”
Libbie rocked on her heels. "Five years."
Peter nodded. "Okay, five years. Then what happened for you to suddenly leave a week ago? And why didn't Malorie just allow you to take the wombat with you, if it rightfully belongs to you?"
I thumbed at Peter. "What he said. Because we have a couple of witnesses who seem to think you left on bad terms."
Libbie sucked on her full lips and darted a glance at Daisy. "Look, Malorie and I had our differences, yes, and at times it could get a little heated."
Daisy growled. Partial truth.
"So what got you two so heated last week that Malorie fired you?"
A hint of color flushed her cheeks. "Oh, well…." Libbie shifted on her feet. "I wanted a raise, and Malorie disagreed. I laid out my arguments and… eventually we agreed to part ways with a generous severance payment." She shot me a pointed look. "She did not fire me."
I pressed my lips tight together and returned the look. I’d bet there was a lot more to it than that.
Libbie stepped a little closer and held her palms up. "I know they're in the middle of their hoity-toity party, but just go get Malorie and ask her. I'm sure she'll say it's fine if I take Cassie.”
Right. So fine that Libbie decided to just go ahead and take the wombat in the middle of the night, dressed all in black, and leave by hopping the wall. I frowned as the other thing she’d said sunk in.
Peter frowned and asked the question on the tip of my tongue. "Wait. Go ask Malorie?” He glanced at the other officers, then back at Libbie. "Do you not know?"
Libbie grew still, brows pinched in doubt. "Know what?"
Peter licked his lips and softened his tone. “Malorie Rutherford is dead.”
14
LIBBIE
“You weren’t aware of that?”
"What?" Libbie gasped and searched Peter's face. "No!"
Daisy wagged her tail and whined. Truth.
Libbie yanked her hands out of her pockets and dragged them down her face. "What? How?"
Peter and I exchanged looks. She clearly didn't kill Malorie, unless she’d managed to do it without knowing she’d done it. And that didn't seem likely, given the one victim was hit over the head and shot with a poisoned dart, and the other had been stabbed in the chest with a snakin’ necklace.
Peter narrowed his eyes. "Did you see Malorie or anyone else when you snuck in to get the wombat?"
Libbie’s chest heaved, and it took her a few moments to gather herself. "I figured with the party going on, nobody would be in the back… but I saw Malorie talking with her stepdaughter, Rebecca. It was through several enclosures, so I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Rebecca seemed really upset—her face was all red and blotchy."
Peter and I exchanged significant looks.
“Did Rebecca look mad enough to kill?"
Libbie shrugged.
I lifted a palm. “Can you think of a reason Rebecca would've wanted to kill Malorie?”
Libbie let out a humorless laugh. "Aside from the fact that she hated her? The woman stole her dad away from her mom and broke up their family—she never got over it."
Peter nodded at me. That jived with what the others had told us. Rebecca Rutherford was seeming more and more like our prime suspect.
That thinking crease appeared between Peter’s brows. "Aside from Rebecca, can you think of anyone who would have wanted to harm Malorie?”
Libbie snickered. "Before tonight, I would've said most people should be afraid of Malorie harming them."
Peter shot her a perplexed look.
I leaned into one hip. "Are you referring to the rumors that she murdered her first husband?"
Libbie nodded. "Yep."
Peter glanced at Daisy, who indicated she was telling the truth. He turned back to Libbie. "You believe she did it?”
"Oh, yeah." Libbie rolled a wrist. "If you ask me, she got what was coming to her."
Wow. This gal wasn’t mincing words. Peter's eyes grew round, as I'm sure mine did.
Libbie startled and waved her hands. "Not that I did it! But to answer your question, you
