Another night on the makeshift bed. Dene wondered how much longer she could do this before she gave in, got a real one and faced the stairs.<\/p>\n
There was a knock at her door.<\/p>\n
Grabbing some clothes, she stumbled to the door, calling: “Just a minute!”<\/p>\n
When she opened it, she saw nothing. Then she looked down. There was a boy who couldn’t have been more than fourteen standing there, and he wasn’t very big for his age. He had her card.<\/p>\n
“Are you Dene Surma? Tax said you are.”<\/p>\n
“Yes, and who?”<\/p>\n
“He works here. I have a job for you,” said the kid.<\/p>\n
Dene didn’t feel like her ‘bed’ was worth blowing the kid off to get more sleep in, so she decided to humour him. “Sure. Kids at school bugging you?”<\/p>\n
“No,” said the kid. “There’s been a murder. I need you to solve it.”<\/p>\n
Dene blinked. “Isn’t that for the police?”<\/p>\n
“The police don’t even know it happened.”<\/p>\n
Dene leaned against the doorframe. “What murder, then?”<\/p>\n
The kid took Dene’s hand and held it to his neck, which was cold with no pulse. “Mine.”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
NEXT: April 23rd<\/a><\/p>\n