It was seven AM when Diana biked out of the city limits, the case files she had been given clutched under her jacket to protect them from the light rain that had begun to come down. By nine AM, she had arrived at the Chambers mansion, a modern building atop a grassy hill, in the center of a large plot of land.

     Dismounting her bike, she chained it near the gate and two officers waved her through, handing her a cheap umbrella as she went. Marching along the paved path leading up to the mansion, Diana appreciated the heated runes engraved on the path. The mansion itself was a modern-style building, four stories tall by the window count and constructed mostly of concrete, painted white.

     “Diana! I was told you’d be comin’.” A man with red clay skin met her at the entrance, his long brown coat providing him more protection from the elements than Diana’s jacket.

     This man was a golem, a clay construct brought to life through magic. He wore a white shirt and black pants under his coat, as well as a nice black tie, complimented by a handsome brown hat.

     “Argil, I assume the chief wants you keeping an eye on me?” Diana smiled, resting the umbrella on her shoulder.

     “Course he does, doesn’t want you causin’ any trouble.”

     “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, I’m a model of good behavior. Now give me the rundown before this rain gets any worse.”

     “Sure.” Argil raised an eyebrow skeptically, opening his notepad, “Cameras were disabled at eight-thirty-four PM, and weren’t turned back on ‘til my guys got to them this mornin’. No witnesses, no fingerprints, no DNA and no murder weapon.”

     “Who reported the body?”

     “The maid, she found the victim when she arrived for work on the fourth.”

     “What does the autopsy say?”

     “Seventeen-inch blade at least, double-sided. Bruisin’ ‘round the wound denotes excessive force. Time of death was nine PM.”

     “Signs of forced entry?”

     “None. And nothin’ was taken.”

     “Not a robbery then, and whoever this was likely had a history with the victim…” Diana scratched her chin, entering the crime scene for the first time.

     Immediately, her OI activated, marking two key points of interest across the crime scene as she pulled on her gloves.

     She approached the first thing that drew her eye, the smear of blood across the bar and the chalk outline marking the body.

     Taking a knee, Diana examined the bloody bar, as well as how the body had landed. Something wet dampened her knee, and she quickly stood back up, finding shattered glass and a liquid on the floor. Dabbing her fingers in it, she brought it to her nose and took a whiff.

     “Whiskey…” Diana dried her fingers on her jacket, “Did the victim have alcohol in his system?”

     “Lab boys say not a drop.”

     “Then he was pouring a drink, but for himself or for his guest?” Diana’s OI made a note of it as she moved to the other point of interest, a lone black guitar pick with a red skull hand-painted onto it.

     “An item like this seems out of place in a mansion…”

     “That’s the only physical evidence we have pointin’ to a suspect, bandmates confirmed the pick belongs to Diode.” Argil explains, “We brought him in, but he can’t explain how the pick got here.”

     “I’ll read the transcript before I interview him.” Diana waved her hand dismissively, “Do you have a suspect list?”

     “It’ll be in your files, along with their addresses. We’ve already interviewed them, but I’m sure you want to make your own conclusions.”

     “Naturally. Is there anything else?”

     “This way, we found a set of tracks headin’ away from the mansion.” Argil lead her out of the back door and around the mansion, showing her the prints they had found, leading eastward away from the building and into the woods, “My boys followed ‘em, but the tracks were lost somewhere in the forest.”

     Diana knelt next to the tracks, examining them. Her OI measured the depth and size of the prints, identifying a size eleven and a half shoe. A bit of ash was ground into print, she picked it up and sniffed it. Tobacco.

     “See somethin’?”

     “I believe I’m beginning to get an idea of what our killer looks like.” Diana stood back up, wiping the mud from her pants, “And perhaps a few of his habits, as well. I’ll be on my way now, busy day.”

     “Best o’ luck.”

     Leaving the crime scene, Diana biked back into the city, arriving at about noon. Feeling hungry, she headed downtown to a coffee shop near her apartment, the False Note.

     A charming little shop, with glass doors and green curtains. It was always slow at noon, lo-fi jazz drifting through the air as Diana entered, the sounds of record static and saxophones filling the space with a relaxed atmosphere.

     “Bluebird! You missed breakfast!” The employee, a portly little man in a green apron, with short brown hair and vivid green eyes called out as the detective walked through his front door, “I was beginning to worry!” He laughed, “The usual?”

     “Naturally, Archie.” Diana took a seat at the counter, “Sorry to miss breakfast, had to leave town for a little bit.”

     “Working a case, eh?” Archie set two slices of bread on heating runes to toast, “I get it, too busy to stop for some food, huh? You’ll shut down without your fuel, Bluebird.”

     “I know, Archie. Brew me some coffee, will you?” Diana set seven dollars on the counter, opening the case file to read over the transcript of Diode’s interview, “Black.”

     “Of course.” Archie laughed.