A pink flush spread over his neck and cheeks. “I, uh—” He used the crumpled cocktail napkin to dab his sweaty forehead, leaving behind ink stains. “I believe Malorie felt I never quite measured up to her first husband.”
He hung his head, and Daisy’s eyes narrowed, the tip of her bushy tail twitching. True… mostly.
Peter and I exchanged suspicious looks.
Quincy groaned and dragged his hands through his thinning white hair. “Like I said, we weren’t perfect, but… I will miss Malorie.” He snuck at quick look at Daisy. “I never saw this coming.”
Daisy lowered her haunches to the wooden platform and glanced up at Peter and whined. True.
I quirked my lips to the side as I studied Quincy. He seemed so awkward and absentminded, and according to Daisy, he would truly miss his wife. If he had killed her, it certainly hadn’t been premeditated. I didn’t get the murderer vibe from him, but he did seem to be hiding something.
Peter’s quill and scroll magically appeared over his shoulder. He grabbed the scroll and looked over his notes. “Do you know why your wife was in the phoenix’s cage or who that other woman is?”
I lifted a finger. “And while we’re on that, any clue where the phoenix is?”
Quincy looked up at us and splayed his long hands. “I have absolutely no idea how my wife ended up in that cage.” He looked from me to Peter. “I’ve never seen that other woman before—though, that talon in her chest”—he shook a long finger—“that was my wife’s necklace. She was wearing it tonight.”
Peter and I exchanged looks. The veterinarian had said the same thing. Initially, I assumed the women had attacked each other. But how would Malorie, hit with a poisoned dart and suffering from a head injury, have killed the other woman?
I supposed the dart might have taken a few moments to take effect, and in that time, Malorie could have attacked using her talon necklace… and then fallen and hit her head? My own head was starting to hurt with all the unanswered questions… and maybe also that champagne I’d nabbed. Oops.
Peter frowned. “Could that other woman and your wife have had an altercation?”
I smirked. That was putting it mildly. If they’d killed each other, then head wounds, poison darts, and murder by necklace to the chest counted as an all-out brawl in my book.
Quincy’s brows pinched together. “No, I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “Malorie was a gentle person—I don’t think she’s capable of hurting someone else like that.”
I scoffed, and three sets of eyes swiveled my way. I raised a palm. “I’ve heard rumors that Malorie killed her first husband fifty years ago at the last phoenix rebirth party.”
Quincy’s frown deepened. “Richard? He disappeared, so we don’t even know that he’s dead.”
Daisy’s hackles rose, and she growled. Lie.
Quincy startled and blinked at the dog before shaking himself and turning to me. “Okay, fine. Personally, yes, I think he’s dead. But I’ve known Malorie a long time, and I truly believe she didn’t kill Richard.”
Peter and I glanced at the dog.
Daisy whined. True.
I shrugged and turned to Peter. I was getting bored—this guy didn’t seem to know that I only wanted the juiciest gossip and clues.
Quincy cleared his throat. “Though you know, now that I’m thinking of Richard, his daughter, Rebecca, from his first marriage, was in attendance tonight.”
Peter cocked his head. “Was that unusual?”
“Indeed.” Quincy raised his brows. “Rebecca couldn’t stand Malorie. When Richard disappeared, almost his entire estate went to Malorie. Rebecca and her mother, Richard’s first wife, were furious and bitter—never got over it.”
“Gee, I wonder why.” I licked my lips. “So why was she here tonight?”
Quincy shrugged. “Rebecca had stopped by the estate a few times—she’d been trying to get ahold of my wife for a week or two. She wanted to talk to Malorie, but Mal wouldn’t see her. Again, they didn’t have a friendly relationship, and Mal was busy preparing for the party tonight. It appears Rebecca crashed the event tonight.”
Daisy wagged her tail. All true.
I crossed my arms and drummed my fingers on my elbow. “Any idea where Rebecca is now?”
He shook his head. “I spotted her earlier this evening across the room. Haven’t seen her since.”
As Peter perused his notes, the lull in questions was filled with odd animal hoots and chilling wails. I curled my lip as I looked around the thick foliage. Aside from Daisy, I couldn’t spot any animals, but the hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I had no doubt we were being watched.
Peter looked up from the scroll. “So you don’t have any idea who our other victim is? Maybe Malorie mentioned her?”
Quincy turned his palms up. “I honestly have no idea who that is.”
Daisy wagged her tail. All true.
He looked down and to the side, brows pinched together. “Though, she’s dressed like a hippie.” He jerked his head up, eyes wide. “Maybe she works with that Zane Perez bottom feeder at WWAAC.” It was the first hint of anger out of Quincy.
I frowned. “Who? And what is WWAAC?”
Quincy narrowed his small eyes. “Witches and Wizards Against Animal Cruelty.” He scoffed. “Maybe she’s one of those wackos, too.” He threw his hands up. “Oh, we can’t cage animals, but we have no problem murdering an innocent woman!” The color rose to his face.
Wow. I blinked. This guy really hated those animal advocates. I’d have thought an animal sanctuary would be pretty buddy-buddy with people who wanted to help animals.
Peter glanced at his notes, then shook his head. “Who is Zane Perez?”
Quincy glared, his cheeks red. “He infiltrated our sanctuary pretending to work as a zookeeper for months.” He pressed his thin lips together. “That is, until our head zookeeper—well, former head zookeeper, Libbie Brown, outed him.”
Peter jerked his head up and leveled him with a sharp look.
“Libbie said Zane approached her, trying to get her to tell him horror stories about
