Murder On The Dance Floor

I sat by the pond between rain showers. I was still fascinated by the now empty nymph shells floating on the surface. They were so intricate and delicate and so empty. All nymphs appear to have flown.

The pond skaters were busy chasing the tiny flies that were unfortunate enough to have fallen onto the surface. I caught this one red-handed. No need to search for the murder weapon, it was right there before me, piercing the heart of the hapless soul.