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
