The great detective pointed at a building beside them. “And yes, we have a string of murders that you can assist with since you’ve been assigned to solve a case. The deaths have been happening here on the set of a popular soap opera show known as Sunset Cove. The director, cast and crew all believe that the set is cursed by a strong magic.”

“Why do they think that?” Gen asked, watching as Rudolf withdrew a silver flask from his pocket and unscrewed the lid.

The fae took a swig from the container and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Because the old director, when he quit, stormed off the set and yelled, ‘I curse this place.’”

Sherlock nodded. “Since then, anyone who plays the love interest opposite the main character, dies tragically. There’s been three fatalities. Now no one will take the part and the actress, Alexus who plays the lead is threatening to quit. The show is about to be terminated and the stage here condemned if we don’t solve the case.”

“So you don’t think that the director actually cursed the show?” Gen asked.

“We do not,” Rudolf replied, offering her the flask of liquid.

Gen shook her head.

“People kill people, not curses, usually,” Sherlock explained. “Someone is behind this and we need data in order to make a deduction.”

“Well, it sounds like it is the previous director,” Gen offered.

“He’s dead, having killed himself after leaving,” Rudolf stated. “So it’s probably not him, but maybe…”

“It’s not him,” Sherlock said, studying the building in front of them. “Also, ghosts usually don’t kill people. People kill people. Someone is behind the string of murders and possibly the person who killed the director is our murderer.”

“So you don’t think it was a suicide?” Gen questioned.

“It’s a theory,” Sherlock replied. “But a theory is only as good as the evidence supporting it, which is what we must collect now.”

Rudolf turned to Gen, offering his arm, like a chivalrous gentleman. “Are you ready to solve the case of the cursed soap opera?”

Gen found herself smiling, grateful that her assignment had paired her up with these two men. She believed she would learn a lot from them and have a good time in the process. Slipping her arm around the fae’s, she nodded. “Yes, teach me your ways of detecting and let’s find the murderer.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

UNSCRIPTED CRIMES

Stage Twenty-Six, Canoodle Lot, Fairyland Studios, Los Angeles, California, United States

“Where are your wings?” Gen asked the fae when they entered the tall metal building.

Rudolf glanced sideways at her. “I glamour them away because they are a nuisance and don’t really work. They are for show.”

“Oh, back in the day, they were a sign of beauty and prestige,” Gen remarked, remembering the strange interactions between the different races.

“Things have shifted and we go for more practical over esteem,” Rudolf related, a look of disgust on his face. “For instance, in this day and age, people wear these awful things called cargo pants so they can carry things on their person.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for that,” Gen said, looking around at the television studio. There were tons of strange equipment and stacks of supplies. But the weirdest part was that there was half of a living area with furniture, a partial kitchen and then a workspace.

“Observe, not just see,” Sherlock advised, looking around at the large open space.

“Why does it look like someone lives here?” Gen asked, pointing to the living spaces.

“It’s a set where they film the television shows,” Sherlock explained.

“But someone obviously lives here too,” Rudolf stated.

“How do you gather that?” Sherlock questioned his assistant.

“Because I feel the room and emotions guide the undercurrent of truth,” the king answered.

Sherlock shook his head. “That’s an awful way to confuse the facts.”