The subject is this guy Charming. Calls himself a prince. According to the missus—nice lady named Ella—he’s anything but. She thinks he’s a two-timing sack of soot. Hired me to follow him, find out where he goes.

Name’s Miles Maltese. I’m a private eye. In Fairy.

I was in my office finishing up the Gruff case when she walked in. First thing I noticed were her shoes. Well, okay, the second thing I noticed were her shoes. Made of glass. Very unusual. Made little tinking noises as she walked across the floor.

“Those look uncomfortable,” I said.

“Mr. Maltese?” she said, and I could tell she was about to bolt.

“Have a seat, ma’am,” I said, and I got up and helped her sit in the only other chair in my office. I sank into my chair behind my desk. “How can I help you, Miz . . . ?”

“My—My name’s Ella. Ella Charming.” She took a handkerchief out of her purse and used it to dab at her eyes. “I—I understand that you help people with, um . . . sensitive problems.”