Nothing unsettled Freida’s sensibilities quite like the sight of a firesprite corpse. Alive they were chubby cheerful bulbs of fire, but deceased their little remains resemble a pile of burnt matches.

“Tragic.” Conway sighed and shook his head.

Freida and Conway have been partners for nearly a decade in the Autumn Court’s homicide department.

“Any ID on it?” Freida asked.

“No, but I did find a small purse with a handful of acorn tops and mushrooms, so I don’t believe theft to be a motive.”

“Has Willoughby determined a cause of death yet?” Freida noted the puddle of liquid surrounding the corpse and suspected a good drenching to be the cause of extinguishing, but she’d been a detective long enough to know things were not always as they seemed.

“Not officially, but we did find a small pail nearby.”

“Likely the murder weapon.”

Conway nodded.

“Water fairies and sprites prefer to stay in Spring Court,” Freida stated.

“And they certainly wouldn’t need a pail to carry water about,” Conway added.

“Indeed,” Freida murmured as she bent to examine the pail. It was lying on its side on the cobblestone a few feet from the victim. She didn’t touch it directly but used her light magic to better see the drops of liquid that remained inside. Clear. No smell.

“Make sure Willoughby runs a tox scan, but I’m fairly certain it was full of plain water.”

Conway made a note on his parchment pad.

Scrutinizing the bottom of the pail, Freida noticed something scratched into the metal.

“R. G.”

Conway made another note. “Initials? Quite the folly to leave a personalized item behind at the crime scene.”

“And who do we know who is both foolish and believes himself above the law?”

Conway closed his eyes and said with a grimace, “Puck.”

The Goodfellows were royalty. To accuse one of any crime, let alone murder, would have to go through the proper channels.

“I’ll have Willoughby run the reports twice. We need airtight evidence before we question a member of the royal family,” Freida straightened and took one last glance up and down the alley, “It’s going to be a long night.”

Conway snapped his parchment pad shut. “Shall we pop by the tavern for a bowl of stew on the way back to the station?”

“That sounds nice.”