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The lifeless body taunted me with its secrets. “Male. Three feet, two inches tall. Post-mortem weight ninety-six pounds. Ligature marks on the neck suggest strangulation.” I turned off the voice recorder and leaned on the exam table.
A dead leprechaun. That’s what I have to work with. A dead freakin’ leprechaun. At least with a dead vampire I could start with DNA testing and find the family members of his most recent victims, but how was I to find the killer of a leprechaun? Investigate The Gold Exchange?
Searching both of his pouches, I learned two things. One: whoever it was must have known that the single gold coin was nothing more than a decoy because it remained in the leprechaun’s pouch. Two: the silver shilling was gone. It was my first break in the case. Once the shilling returned, I could place a reverse trace on it to… to do what? No one uses shillings any more, not even the creatures I investigate in the Mythological Victims Unit.
The sound of the door swinging open interrupted my thoughts. “Alright, Cutter. Whatcha got?”
“Shit, Frank. That’s what I got. Shit.” I turned to face my supervisor. Normally, I didn’t mind Frank’s cocky swagger, but this time everything about him irritated me from his neatly combed hair to his shoes which seemed permanently shined.
He looked over my shoulder. “Good thing he’s dead. He might be offended to hear someone call him shit. Respect the dead. He’s a leprechaun.”
“I know, and that’s the problem. Leprechaun murders are nearly impossible to solve.” I turned back to the body to continue processing it.
“That’s why I put you on the case, Cutter. You’re the best coroner I have.”
“Yeah, yeah. I'm your only coroner.” I dismissed Frank and selected a small brush and a Petri dish from the metal table beside the victim. Carefully, I brushed a small amount of gold-colored dust off of his shirt and set the dish aside.
“What do you have there?” Frank stepped closer.
“Probably gold dust. Nothing unusual for his species,” I muttered while unbuttoning the victim’s shirt. His chest bore no marks, but I took a few pictures anyway. I asked Frank to roll him over. His back looked clean.
“That’s what we have. Ligature marks and gold dust.”
I removed his finely crafted shoes. The supple leather and exquisite hand stitching could have only been done by one of his kind. Frank picked them up and whistled. “I need a pair like these.”
“Next time I see a live leprechaun, I’ll ask him to make you a pair.” I tugged on the creature’s pants and pulled them off.
“Oh, God! Cutter!” Frank threw up.
I looked to see what had made Frank sick. “Men can be such pansies about certain things.”
Blood caked where his scrotum should have been. The red hairs on the inside of his thighs were matted with a scant amount of the sticky body fluid.