“No murderer is this good the first time, or did you get a new flavor of killer while I was away in faerie?”

“Nope. Most murders are pretty standard. Violence level and victim differs but you’re about eighty to ninety percent more likely to be killed by your nearest and dearest than by a stranger, and most killing is depressingly ordinary.”

“This one’s depressing,” I said, “but it’s not ordinary.”

“No, it’s not ordinary. I’m hoping this one perfect scene kind of got it out of the killer’s system.”

“You think it will?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “No, I don’t.”

“Can I alert the local demi-fey to be careful, or are you trying to withhold the victim profile from the media?”

“Warn them, because if we don’t and it happens again, we’ll get accused of being racists, or is that speciesist?” She shook her head, walking back toward the police line. I followed her, glad to be leaving the bodies behind.

“Humans can interbreed with the demi-fey, so I don’t think speciesist applies.”

“I couldn’t breed with something the size of a doll. That’s just wrong.”

“Some of them have two forms, one small and one not much shorter than me.”

“Five feet? Really, from eight inches tall to five feet?”

“Yes, really. It’s a rare ability, but it happens, and the babies are fertile, so I don’t think it’s quite a different species.”

“I didn’t mean any offense,” she said.

“None taken, I’m just explaining.”

We were almost to the police line and my visibly anxious boyfriends. “Enjoy your Saturday,” she said.

“I’d say you too, but I know you’ll be here for hours.”

“Yeah, I think your Saturday will be a lot more fun than mine.” She looked at Doyle and Frost as the police finally let them move forward. Lucy was giving them an admiring look behind her sunglasses. I didn’t blame her.

I slipped the gloves off even though I hadn’t touched a thing. I dropped them onto the mass of other discarded gloves that was on this side of the tape. Lucy held the tape up for me and I didn’t even have to stoop. Sometimes short is good.