Ethan looked around grimly, as his favorite bakery became a crime scene.

The fiend running the bakery sat down, and Ethan saw giant teardrops roll down his cheeks.

“M-my bakery…” he mumbled to himself.

An employee, a young girl with large horns and a high ponytail made for the front door with a large key.

“Nobody leave until the Guard gets here!” she yelled. People grumbled in protest.

Ethan reached for his pocket, and took out a small, flat stone. It buzzed gently to his touch. He pressed on the center one, two, three times, then put it back, hoping to God it worked.

He crouched down next to the body, trying to remember as much from his roommate’s true crime shows as he could. When that failed, he tried to simply observe the body, see what he could find.

Up close, the foam falling out of her mouth had a bluish sheen to it. He touched the victim’s body - while she was still warm, her body was already rigid.

“Are you familiar with the victim?” he asked the other two women who were sitting next to the victim - Maerith - before she died.

They nodded. One of them was a dwarf in a sharp, black pantsuit, intricate braids and golden beads in her hair. There were two large beads over her left ear, which Ethan recognized from a children’s book about the cultures of different races of the realm - the double beads identified her as a married woman, one bead for the clan she was born into, one for the clan she married into.

“We haven’t seen each other since we graduated from the Academy five years ago,” she explained in between sobs. “This was our first time catching up.”

Ethan turned towards the other woman, and raised an eyebrow. “And does the same hold true for you, ma’am?”

This woman was human, with short, red hair and bloodshot eyes. She looked to be a bit older than the other two, but Ethan assumed that was because of human genetics.

“I just spoke to poor Maerith earlier this week,” she said, her soft voice barely audible over the ruckus of the bakery’s other patrons. She wasn’t crying, but her gaze was unfocused, as if she was looking somewhere far, far away.

“I see. And, ladies, your names are…?”

“I’m Khorian Shatteraxe, and this is Emilie Greaves,” volunteered the dwarf.

“Thank you, ladies. I’m detective Shadowveil from the Shadowveil Detective Agency. Would you mind telling me more about the victim?”

“She can’t really be dead, can she?” Khorian blew her nose as Maerith’s body got covered with a tablecloth, for lack of anything better for the time being.

“I’m afraid she is,” said Ethan, trying to sound at least vaguely comforting. “Your reunion today - was there anything special happening?”

“Maerith was the one who wanted us to meet today,” explained Emilie, her eyes still unfocused. “She just got promoted at her job and wanted to celebrate, and catch up.”

“Where did Maerith work?”

“At the Foxtrot… no, Foxglove Publishing House, I think. She was an editor.”

“Thank you. Miss Greaves, did you and Miss Maerith keep in touch frequently, since you spoke earlier this week?”

Emilie shifted in her seat, and reached for the coffee cup, only to remember it got knocked over during the commotion. She sighed softly.

“We wrote letters, mostly. I just came back to Arcalis after traveling abroad for a better part of the past few years. I’m a writer,” she added.

“Are you being published by Foxglove?”

“No, I’m writing for Meeko.”

Ethan nodded. He figured out one thing from purchasing a record amount of books recently: only bigshots got published by Meeko.

Come to think of it, he struggled to remember a single Foxglove title…

There was knocking at the now locked front door, and when the door swung open, three people came in: two of them were members of the Guard, accompanied by Lysandra. Ethan sighed in relief; the little flat stone was meant to work as a pager of sorts, and luckily it worked.

“Vacation ended early, I see,” she said as a greeting to Ethan. “What happened here?”

He explained the situation, both to her and the two members of the Guard. He hadn’t seen them at the Museum nor at Bril’s house; one of them was a half-orc with small tusks and golden eyes, the other a resolute looking elf with long, black hair.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

The half orc extended a hand to him. “First Lieutenant Willowmere and Senior Constable Mistvale. It’ll be our honor to have the two of you aid in our investigation.”

Lysandra was crouching next to the dead body, pale light emanating from her fingertips.

“Interesting,” she mumbled. “Blightbloom Draught, very heavily concentrated.”

“I’ve never seen Blightbloom in action,” said Constable Mistvale, his dark eyes watching the dead body with increased curiosity. “The plant needs very specific conditions to grow, so it’s only grown in the Flying Desert, and expensive to import.”

Lieutenant Willowmere walked up to Ethan.

“As the two of them are investigating the body and the poison, shall we have a private chat with the victim’s friends?” he asked quietly.

Ethan nodded. He knew what the Lieutenant was thinking, and he agreed: one of these two ladies had to be the killer, and they had to find out who and why.

----------------------------------------

The owner of the establishment - who Ethan now found out was called Khmêřdj-Txvmböðcz, but was fine with being called Kevin - allowed them to use the back room to speak to the two ladies individually. The first one to accompany them was Emilie Greaves, who stumbled slightly as she walked.

“Please, take a seat,” said Willowmere, motioning at the simple wooden chair next to a cabinet full of jams and jellies.

“Detective Shadowveil says you write for the Meeko publishing house. What do you write, ma’am?”

“I write travel guides,” she said. “That’s why I’ve been mostly away from Arcalis for years, save for occasionally coming back here.”

“And where have you traveled most recently, ma’am?” asked Ethan.

"The Flying Desert," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "I've been there for the past three months, researching for my next book."

Ethan and Lieutenant Willowmere exchanged meaningful glances. The same place where Blightbloom was exclusively grown.

"That must have been fascinating," said Willowmere carefully. "Did you bring back any... souvenirs?"

"Just notes and photographs," Emilie said. "And some local spices. The customs are very strict about what can be brought back."

"Of course," nodded Ethan. "Miss Greaves, you mentioned exchanging letters with Maerith. What did you usually write about?"

Emilie's unfocused gaze finally settled on something - her own hands, fidgeting in her lap. "She... she hasn't been doing very well lately. The promotion was meant to be a fresh start."

"How so?" prompted Willowmere.

"She was struggling. With money, mostly. The publishing industry doesn't pay well unless you're at the very top. And..." she hesitated. "She was lonely. Very lonely."

“Did she have anyone? Family, spouse, partner?” asked Ethan. “A dog?”

“If she dated anyone, she didn’t tell us,” said Emilie. “And I don’t think she had much of a family either.”

“I see. Miss Greaves, did anything about your meeting today strike you as odd?”

“Well…” Emilie hesitated. “It’s… silly. But she ordered all kinds of things she never liked before.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She was never a coffee person, today she orders an extra large latte, and fruit tarts. Silly, but she always claimed fruit tarts ruin perfectly good fruit. I figured she was just being adventurous.”

“I see. Was there any bad blood between the three of you at any point?”

“W-what? N-no, not at all. We were always so close at the Academy. We may have drifted apart a little bit, but we were still close. We never argued, not even… not even when life got complicated,” she added quickly. Ethan furrowed his brow. It was clear as day that she was hiding something…

“I see. Thank you, Miss Greaves. We’ll speak to Mrs. Shatteraxe next,” said Ethan. Lieutenant Willowmere raised an eyebrow, but did not protest.

They brought in Khorian, who had composed herself somewhat but was still dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Miss Shatteraxe," began Ethan, “please, take a seat. Please tell me, did anything strike you as unusual during your meeting today about Maerith?”

“Oh, poor Maerith was being so good,” Khorian’s lower lip began to tremble. “She was finally doing so well for herself! New job, new apartment, she was even planning to ask out a colleague from work. She was so good and so wonderful. She seemed so happy.”

“And was there anything off about your friend, Miss Greaves?”

“Emily? No, Stars above, no. Emily is the most well put together of us all. Such a hardworking sweetheart.”

“I see. Was there ever any bad blood between any of you?”

Khorian played with the beads in her hair.

“No, not at all. I mean, there were some situations here and there over the years, like when Emilie almost got kicked out of her program because of a prank we did at the Academy, or when we had this strange love triangle… but we always talked it out. We were good friends.”

“I’m sorry, could you elaborate on that?” asked Ethan. “Love triangle?”

“Ah, well,” she looked down, avoiding her gaze. “It’s… a stupid thing. From years ago. Dain, my husband, and her dated back in the Academy. It was a pretty serious thing back then, or so we thought… but then Dain broke up with her and got with me. She was understandably upset, but she gave me her blessing immediately and we talked it out. That’s what we always did. Talk things out.”

“I see,” said Ethan. His mind was on fire. He felt like he was connecting the dots, but still unsure what the full picture would be.

A knock at the door shook him out of his trance.

“Gilbert? Lieutenant Willowmere? I think I found something,” Lysandra’s voice announced from over the door.

Ethan followed her out, as Lieutenant Willowmere was asking Khorian some extra questions.

“What did you find?”

“I found the poison in the sugar cubes. But that’s not all,” Lysandra’s expression was grim. “There was a trace amount of the poison present in the belongings for both other women present.”

Another dot joined the picture. He could almost make out the shape of it, but there was one more thing he was missing…

“Did you look through their belongings?” he asked.

“Yes. All three of them. Go ahead, have a look.”

They both joined Constable Mistvale, who was going through the belongings of all three women. Each one of them has brought a purse: a large one full of snacks that belonged to Khorian, a practical and elegant one belonging to Emilie, and a worn, old tote bag that belonged to the deceased.

Ethan looked over the contents of each bag. Snacks, handkerchiefs, money…

A small, shimmering vial caught his eye.

Click.

“I got it,” he said. “I know exactly who killed Maerith.”