Page 26 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Fine.” Griffin waved his hand, and Eamon untied the bow and lifted the top. He sniffed the contents, much to the curiosity of the watching techs, and then returned it to Bel.

“It’s safe,” he said. “It’s just paper.”

“Paper?” Bel withdrew a folded note and flattened the sheet. “I don’t get it. It’s a jumble of letters.” She tilted it so her boss could see. “Why leave a gift box on a body with only nonsense typed on it?”

“Why kill this poor woman and leave her naked with only a red hood?” Lina asked.

“To mimic the show,” Griffin answered. “I hope we don’t have a crazed fan on our hands. The last thing we need is someone targeting the cast and crew while they’re in our town.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Lina said. “We just closed a case with multiple victims. Let’s not start racking up imaginary ones.”

“Thum,are you good toget the body to the morgue?” Griffin asked.

“I am.”

“Great. Emerson, can you finish up here? I don’t want to pull Gold in yet. One homicide detective missing from patrol isn’t suspicious, but two? I want to meet with the producers before word gets out and we have chaoson our hands.”

“I’ll be fine,” Bel said.

“Meet me at the station when you’re done. Hopefully, the producers will have answers for us…” He glanced at Eamon with an expression that told everyone he didn’t believe that for a second. “Too bad you aren’t a cop.”

“You scented something,” Bel said when Griffin was finally out of earshot. “Are we dealing with a killer like Ewan?”

“I don’t know,” Eamon said. “The falling snow covered their tracks so scents are muddled. They killed outdoors where the elements degrade evidence. Hundreds of strangers have flooded Bajka, many of whom are supernatural to some extent, so I can’t confirm if the killer is a shifter of sorts or if the victim merely came in contact with power before she died. Shifters in their human form are harder for me to?—”

“Hold on, rewind a bit.” Bel pressed a gloved palm against his chest. “Many are supernatural to some extent? What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry.” Eamon rubbed her hand, cementing it against his body despite their dwindling audience. “Conventions and fandoms always attract the less powerful. It’s a way for them to expresswho they arewithout hiding.”

“Because everyone assumes it’s just a costume or sleight of hand.”

“Exactly. Alpha predators avoid attention. We stick to the shadows, but lesser witches and shifters flock toevents like this. Our town is teeming with them. It’s another reason I’m not a fan of these conventions. If I can sense them, they candefinitelysense me. Should help keep them in order, though.”

“So this murder might be human, even if her wounds look claw-inflicted,” Bel said. “A supernatural would be foolish to risk your wrath.”

“No lesser power would kill in a town ruled by someone like me without acquiring my approval first,” Eamon agreed. “It would be their death sentence.”

“Ewan did.”

“That was a desperate act of self-defense. He had no choice if he wanted to survive.”

“So, the writer wasn’t killed with claws?”

“She might have been. There are those like Ewan who act out of desperation and others who are crazed enough to disregard theirownsurvival. But given the situation, I’m inclined to suspect another murder weapon.”

“Why’s that?”

“It was suggested that a fan is killing crew members in ways that mimic Aesop’s Files,” he said. “A show with props, special effects, custom weapons, and entire sets that recreate the violence of werewolves, vampires, and witches.”

“And if you’re going to kill to mimic a show…” Bel gripped the tips of Eamon’s fingers with her gloved ones. “…you might as well mimic it in all its ways.”

“Canyou think of any reason Gwen Rossa would’ve been in the woods last night?” Griffin had requested the show’s producers—Alistair Rot and Evelyn Pierce—come down to the station and answer questions. The director Warren Rouge, who’d grown borderline aggressive when asked to halt shooting, had brought that same hostility into the conference room, which was why the producers were the only two participating in the conversation.

“Miss Rossa was a talented and dedicated writer,” Evelyn Pierce said. She was a no-nonsense businesswoman whose reaction to this interview told Bel she was a‘time is money’type, but of the three present, she at least appeared sympathetic to Gwen Rossa’s fate. Her fellow producer and the director were disappointingly far less accommodating with their responses, though. Bel realized these three probably weren’t friends with the victim, but head writers had close working relationships with their directors. It was odd that Warren Rouge was more concerned about losing the afternoon light than the episode’s author. She’d also expected the producers to display outrage as they blamed Bajka for the death of their own, but thetrio sitting on the opposite end of the conference table seemed solely interested in solving this issue with as little inconvenience to their lives as possible.

“She produced quality work,” Pierce continued. “She was one reason Aesop’s Files has such high ratings, but our knowledge of Miss Rossa ended at her writing. Her personal life was none of our business. We cannot say why she ventured into the woods last night, nor can we guesswho she was with.”

A conveniently diplomatic answer. They weren’t getting anywhere with this trio.

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