The Enchanted cop on the other side of the park suddenly flinched, straightening away from the playground structure where he’d been leaning, and starting forward. “Hey! What are you doing there?”
The sprite shot straight into the air, the magic glow dissipating in a swirling wisp of energy that blew away on a soft breeze. She disappeared into the dense branches of a large tree, her light extinguished.
I pictured her sitting on a branch like a tiny bird, obscured by the dense tangle of branches and leaves, and smiled. I’d give anything to have wings like that. To be able to just fly away when trouble threatened.
“Come on.” Alice grabbed my arm and jerked me sideways, ripping me from my daydreams.
I stumbled after her as the cop yelled something in our direction, my gaze sliding back to him. He was on his cell, and his expression was mutinous. He’d clearly connected the disruption of his crime scene with us, though I had no idea how.
“What’s going on?” I asked Alice.
She shook her head, risking a quick look at the cop. “Just hurry, will you?”
Behind us, Fenwald loped heavily along the sidewalk, occasionally going vertical to smack at a passing bug and yowl his displeasure when he missed. Every third time he jumped, he smacked into my calves, his weight throwing me off enough to make me stumble. I turned to glare at him. “Stop that, you silly cat.”
He narrowed his silvery-green gaze on me and yowled unrepentantly, his tattered tail snapping the air with insolence.
When we’d gone two full blocks down the street, Alice finally slowed and turned to look back the way we’d come. Some of the tension left her face and she relaxed. “We can wait here.”
“For what?” I asked, and then swiped at a large bug that buzzed past my ear. The bug hovered on the air a few feet away, hands on hips and tiny face filled with irritation.
“Oh,” I said.
Sebille popped back to full size and rolled her eyes. “Watch where you’re swinging that hand.”
“Sorry.”
“What did you discover?” Alice asked.
“The magic signature has been expunged.”
I had no idea what that meant, but whatever it was had Alice’s eyes going round. “Magically?”
Sebille shrugged. “It appears so, yes.”
Alice wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the cracked concrete under her feet. She seemed really upset by the news.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Sebille’s lids twitched as if she were fighting off an eye-roll at my ignorance. But she must have decided to take pity on me and offer information instead of disdain. “It means a supernormal messed with it to hide the identity of the killer.”
“What kind of supernormal could do that?” I asked.
“A witch. A wizard.” Alice slid her gaze thoughtfully toward me. “A sorcerer.”
“Does Gnomish have a mage on staff?” Sebille asked.
Alice’s gaze shot in her direction. “You think Gnomish killed him?”
“I think we need to consider it. Whoever killed that gnome, it was professionally done.” She slid her glance along the street. “I doubt he was murdered by a baker, a shoe salesman...” She swung the hand toward a slim, dark-haired man leaving one of the storefronts. “Or a travel agent.”
I didn’t know about those businesses, but I was pretty sure I knew a pair of flip flops that could have gotten the job done. I shook off that thought and the feelings of inadequacy it engendered. “Maybe Gnomish was mad at him for causing a scene in front of Croakies,” I said. “It sounds like they wanted to keep a low profile. Duking it out with Alice on the street wasn’t exactly conducive to impressing potential customers.”
“Especially since I kicked his butt,” Alice agreed with a saucy grin.
Sebille shrugged her shoulders. “There’s one more thing.”
Alice and I fixed her with matching expectant stares.
“The grass was long in that park, and it rained last night, so the weight of the body made a pretty good impression.”
We waited for her to explain what that had to do with anything. She frowned, seeming uncomfortable with what she was about to tell us.
“Yes, and…?” Alice nudged.
“And that impression was nearly a perfect rectangle. No human-like rounded parts or bumps. There were some indentations in the middle, but the edges were almost completely straight.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Sebille shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. But I’m going to take a wild guess here and say…” She took a deep breath. “Your dead guy was smashed into something rectangular, about thirty-three by twenty-something inches. And he stayed inside whatever it was long enough for his body to take its shape.”
I looked at Alice and she looked back, speculation running deep behind her oversized glasses.
I was pretty sure I knew exactly what rectangular thing poor Gido had been pressed into.
And, from Alice’s sudden chalky pallor, I was pretty sure she did too.
11
Bad Day?
Alice finally bought me those tacos she’d promised. Mostly because when she offered to pay the sprite back for her help, the cheeky red-haired woman all but demanded to be repaid in tacos.
She and I formed a permanent bond at that moment.
Alice seemed more annoyed by the request than pleased about getting off lightly. Which made me think she’d never intended to get me those tacos in the first place.
She’d probably thought she could buy me off with a bowl of gruel, a.k.a. pale, tasteless beans, or another dental disaster from the pastry-ish family.
Sebille and I were happily snarfing down our fourth taco each when the front door of Croakies opened and Grym the Grump walked inside, his handsome face set into a seemingly permanent scowl.
The detective’s dark brows arched in surprise when he spotted the sprite. But he quickly recovered, turning to Alice. “I understand you tried to debauch my crime scene today.”
Alice snorted out a laugh, spitting taco contents at Sebille and me. I took a
