Nessa's eyes widened as everyone stared at her. "What? I don't know how that got there!" At their skeptical look, she added, "I don't! I didn't even use those gloves." No one argued, but the silent looks that everyone exchanged were argument enough.

Boq stuck up for her, "Look, that red stain could be anything. And you don't even know for sure they're her gloves. They could have been planted." Nessa smiled at him adoringly, linking her wrinkled fingers with his dry ones. Apparently he had redeemed himself from her earlier irritation.

Galinda added, "Besides, she obviously didn't dump water on herself, so she can't be the killer."

Fiyero replied, "Unless she did it to avoid suspicion."

Elphaba looked at him appraisingly. "That's actually pretty good." He smiled diffidently, looking away at her praise. She didn't understand why anytime someone complimented his intelligence, he acted so surprised. It's not as if he were stupid, like Pfannee.

Nessa crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I didn't. Honestly. Why would I dump water all over myself? That's ridiculous."

Fiyero responded again, "Well, we don't know for certain whoever's responsible for the water is the killer." He shifted uncomfortably, and Elphaba turned to look at him carefully.

Pfannee whirled around, "So there are two killers?" Oh great. They did not need the idiot encouraged to shout out that each person was the killer. Elphaba would rather be the next victim than listen to that.

"I don't think that's likely," Galinda answered, and Pfannee's face visibly fell, obviously having been quite excited about an excuse for unlimited announcements. She felt horrible that for a moment, she really hoped the killer did strike again. The vapid redhead would make a nice set with Avaric and Shenshen. Then at least they could work this out in peace.

Nessa declared, "I still think it's Dr. Dillamond. Has anyone even seen him in hours?" The others shook their heads, and Elphaba couldn't help but think her sister might have a point. But why would Dr. Dillamond want her dead? Unless he was the figure they'd seen in the night. He might have thought she recognized him, and as one of her professors, he would be aware of her allergy. Naturally he would assume she was sleeping with her sister, not knowing the family dynamic well enough to deduce otherwise.

They continued arguing, and Elphaba lost interest in their petty bickering. No one knew who it might be any more than the others did, except of course the killer who wasn't exactly likely to volunteer the information. Fiyero had apparently lost interest, too, playing with the hair that she'd not bothered to braid, hanging loose around her like a long cape. He twirled a lock between his fingers, smiling when she rolled her eyes at him. He really was incorrigible. Untangling himself, he whispered softly enough the others couldn't hear, "So, do you always wear that to bed?"

She blushed about a hundred shades of embarrassment. "Fiyero!"

"What? That's just not exactly the sleepwear I'd have picked you for, that's all. I always imagined you as a long, flowing white gown kind of girl," he teased, grinning mischievously.

"Well I'll thank you not to imagine me at all." She scoffed, crossing her arms at his impertinence.

"Aw, you're no fun." He pretended to pout. "Besides, that was quite the sexy little number there. It'd be a shame not to imagine it now."

She huffed at him, pushing him away as he chuckled, and at her motion, the group noticed them again. She scoffed at them all. "What? Are we all assuming I tried to kill myself now? I can assure you I wouldn't choose death by water. Now, if you'll excuse me, as I am quite tired, and I'm fairly certain this is going to get us nowhere, I'm going back to bed." Fiyero wiggled his eyebrows subtly enough that only she would get it. Oz, he could be quite infuriating when he was in his playful mood. Particularly when she was sleep-deprived and facing her own mortality after an attempt on her life.

Nessa wailed, "But where am I going to sleep?" Boq took her hand to lead her in search of the butler for temporary accommodations for the night. With the little band of clueless friends dispersed, Elphaba yawned, eager to get some sleep.

Too exhausted to even undress, she crawled into the deliciously soft and inviting bed, very much looking forward to getting some sleep. Sleep came quickly, but it seemed no sooner than she shut her eyes that there was a loud knocking on the door. She ignored it, drifting away again, but the knocking just got louder. Grumbling, she opened the door to see the group assembled again, Fiyero with a disappointed look that she was dressed in nothing he could tease her about.

Yawning, she shuffled out, and Galinda took her arm. "We found the pail."

Sleep-numbed, her brain whirled uselessly with pictures of Galinda in that nursery rhyme with the girl who fell down the hill with a pail of water. "Huh?"

"The pail. That was used to try to kill you."

Alert now, she sighed. "Oh."

"Is she always this way in the morning?" Boq asked, and Elphaba shoved him.

Following the crowd, they progressed toward the pail, all of them looking at Elphaba as if she could read the name of the killer on it like a psychic. "What?"

Galinda asked, "Well, what does it tell you?"

"Nothing, it's a pail. It can't talk."

Nessa rolled her eyes. "You know what she means. Are there fingerprints? Can you tell who did it?"

"Nessa, I can't just pick the fingerprints out of thin air. I'm not a human magnifying glass for Oz's sake." They all stared at her, and she sighed. "Fine, let me see it." She knelt down, studying the weapon that could have wrought her demise. How odd, she thought, to be killed by a bucket.

It was a very ordinary bucket that could have been picked up just about anywhere, as was the rope that was still tied to it. She sighed, about to give up when she noticed the slight smear of paint on the handle. True, it could have been there from any of the number of paint jobs the bucket might have been used for, but it looked fresh. Perhaps it smeared on the culprit's hand. It was a long shot, but it was worth something.

"Everyone hold out your hands." They did as they were told, and she scanned them quickly. All except Fiyero flipped their hands with palms face up. "Ha, ha, Fiyero, very funny. Come on. Turn your hands over." He met her eyes with an oddly serious expression, but didn't turn his hands over. With another eye roll, she marched over, annoyed by how he kept flirting for attention. This was ridiculous. She took his hands in hers, and before she could turn them over, he laced their fingers together.

"Elphaba, you look tired. Let me walk you back."

She shook him off, scolding him in her best warning tone, "Fiyero!" He sighed, turning his hands over. His hand had a streak of white paint small enough that it was only noticeable now that she was looking for it. The group gasped collectively at the sight, but she just stared at him in confusion, "Did you bring the bucket over here or something?" The guilt on his face was enough of an answer, but he shook his head anyway. She stared at the pail, at his hands, then back at him. "So…you?"

"Fiyero! You're the killer?" Pfannee gushed, draping her fake nails on his shoulder and fluttering her eyelashes. "Ooh, a bad boy. Even better."