“No.” He rubbed his chin, which glinted with stubble. I thought about his treasure trail, and put that thought out of my mind. “We’ll have to wait for the autopsy report to be sure, but I didn’t see any obvious signs of a fight on the body or on the witnesses. No bruised knuckles, no black eyes, no knots or lumps.” He fought to suppress another yawn. “Thing is, I think they were telling the truth about it being an accident. It’s what kind of accident it was that they’re lying about.”

“You think it could have been a water sprite that drowned him?” I asked slowly.

“I don’t know.” Cody met my eyes. “It’s the most obvious possibility. Sirens used to lure sailors to their deaths, didn’t they?”

“At sea, yeah, but we don’t have sirens here. Not in freshwater.” A memory from Mr. Leary’s myth and literature class struck me. “There is one drowning-by-naiad incident on record.”

“Check it out,” he said decisively. “Have you got an in with them?”

I made a face. “Not exactly. But I know how to summon them.” Rising and parting the blinds, I peered out the window. “It’s too late today already. Sun’s already rising. Those kids were on the right track; it has to be done at dawn.”

“What about sunset?”

“Not here,” I said. “Too many tourists on the river that time of evening. Cody, if it was a drowning-by-naiad, why lie about it?”

“Not a clue.”

“What about the number on the matchbook?” I asked.

His mouth quirked ruefully. “Illegible, all but the first five digits. Water damage. I was hoping to find a partial match in the call log on one of their phones.”

“No luck?”

“Nope.” He paused. “Do you have to report this to, ah, the powers that be?”

“Good question.” I shivered a little. I might be Hel’s liaison, but let’s face it, she’s scary. “I’d rather wait until we know more.”

Cody nodded. “Your call. Any chance that the chief’s magical watch made a mistake?”

“It never has before. But for all we know, it’s picking up on the fact that some bogle or puck stole the kid’s phone, and his friends are lying for totally unrelated reasons.”

An odd look crossed his face. “What would a bogle or puck want with a cell phone?”

“I don’t know,” I said. For a werewolf cop, he really was surprisingly naive. “They just like messing with mortals. Hell, for all I know, maybe they wanted to hack his Facebook profile.”

“Huh. Okay.” He pointed at the laptop. “Go ahead and file their statements, and get me those photos from the DMV. I’ll finish up the report. We’ll get a few hours of sleep and start canvassing as soon as the bars open.”

“We?” It surprised me.