She’d said she was still doing research but had gotten word that he’d be attending the Night of the Phoenix fundraising event at the Magical Animal Sanctuary. When a list went around the station, Peter signed himself and Daisy up to work the event as an off-duty officer helping with security. And Heidi had begged a favor from a friend so that we could go undercover for the catering company.
I frowned as I looked at all the glittering zebra and leopard prints. Seemed like both an oddly wholesome and tacky event for a man as devious and particular as Ludolf, but hey. Maybe even evil villains enjoyed a good crab puff sometimes.
Plus, the place was brimming with Bijou Mer’s elite, all gathered at this opulent mansion on one of the top tiers of our magical island. Maybe Ludolf was here to rub elbows with the rich and powerful. I sighed. If he was even attending. Maybe Madeline had gotten it wrong.
“Come on.” Heidi turned, the trays magically hovering beside us. “Let’s keep looking for him.” She glanced back over her shoulder and grinned. “It’s kind of exciting, isn’t it? Will’s going to be so mad he had to keep the clinic running tonight and couldn’t come.”
I grinned back. This part was kind of fun, though I doubted Will would be all that jealous. Before an angry outburst outed him as a bear shifter years ago, he’d been one of Bijou Mer’s top surgeons and had attended swanky parties like this one all the time. I doubted he’d want to show his face here as the help.
I thought over the last month. Being summoned to Ludolf’s secret underground lair in the sewers to have possibly deadly potions tested on me had been less than pleasant. I wanted to figure out how to prosecute Ludolf for one of his crimes—not one of his underlings, who he always managed to shift the blame to—and put him away for good. I’d nearly done so years ago when I’d been a successful lawyer—until I got too close and Ludolf cursed me to silence me.
I still didn’t quite understand why he hadn’t just killed me back then. He could have. And yet, he kept me around to test potions on. Why?
He’d already summoned me down there several times. Each new potion threatened to take the last bit of magical ability I had left—being able to speak to animals—or worse, even my life. Every time I thought about it, it sent shivers down my spine, so I fished some salami and cheese out of the pocket of the black slacks I’d borrowed from Heidi and popped them into my mouth. Stress eating—always worked for me.
I followed my friend as we laced through the partygoers, past laughing groups of glittering elite and clouds of overly sweet perfume. The whole time I scanned for Ludolf.
“—think she’ll kill the new hubby off tonight?”
“Oh Harold, you’re terrible!”
The group of middle-aged men and women to my left tittered. Heidi caught my confused look and leaned close, her voice low.
“Have you heard about Malorie Rutherford?”
UP IN FLAMES
“Malorie Rutherford…” I shook my head. “The hostess? What about her?”
Heidi’s dark eyes lit up and she edged closer. “Okay, my friend Jilly, the one who owns the catering company? She filled me in. Apparently, Malorie Rutherford has a reputation as a black widow. Everyone thinks she killed her first husband, Richard Rutherford. No one’s ever found the body, but get this—he disappeared exactly fifty years ago, at the last Night of the Phoenix party.”
I tipped my head to the side. That’s right—the phoenix apparently burst into flames, burned to a crisp, then was reborn from its own ashes every fifty years like clockwork. I arched a brow. “So everyone’s wondering if watching a bird spontaneously combust is going to put our hostess in a murdery mood again?”
My friend giggled. “Something like that.”
I nodded. “Alright. Well, give me all the goss. What do people think happened to him?”
Her gaze shifted over the heads of party guests. “I’ve heard it a few ways. Some people think she fed him to their three-headed wolf. Others think she threw the body into the phoenix’s cage and all the remains burned up.”
I nodded. “And why did she kill her beloved?”
“Get this.” Heidi splayed her hands. “Malorie was twenty at the time, and Richard was fifty.”
I raised my brows. “Quite the age gap.”
My friend nodded. “Richard Rutherford left his wife and daughter, who was barely younger than Malorie, to be with her. Everyone thought she was a treasure digger. People think she killed him so she could inherit his estate. Within months of his disappearance, she remarried to their gardener.”
I chuckled and pressed my eyes closed. “Of course she did. Story as old as time. Murder your older husband using a firebird so you can marry the gardener.”
“Ahem. Er—good—good evening?”
I opened my eyes and looked past Heidi toward the raised stage. The crowd quieted down as all eyes turned toward the tall, thin man with enormous ears who stood atop the stage, narrow shoulders slumped.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. I, uh—” He scratched the back of his neck and looked behind him at the curtained-off cage, then scanned the crowd. “I apologize. My wife, Malorie, usually does the—the hosting.” He chuckled nervously, and polite laughter floated up from a few pockets among the hundreds of guests.
Heidi spun back around to face me and mouthed, “It’s him! The gardener!”
I grinned and nodded, then we both turned our attention back to the clearly nervous man. He wrung his hands, playing with an empty skewer.
“But as she’s, um—not available, I suppose….” He scanned the crowd again as if searching for his wife.
