EPISODE ONE

'tiny little dead'

"HER NAME WAS Frances Glessner Lee and she was from the United States. She got inspired by a classmate of her brother, George Burgers Macron whatever - can't remember his name - and he was studying medicine at Harvard and was particularly interested in death investigation. Anyway, she created it, the lady, not the man - 20 true crime scene dioramas recreated in minute detail at dollhouse scale. They still use 18 of them for teaching purposes by the Maryland Office of the Chief Medical Examiner and the dioramas are also considered works of art. She also became the first female police captain in the US and is known as the Mother of Forensic Science."

"... Honestly, she sounds incredibly fascinating." I inhaled deeply, brows furrowed, fingers numb and aching from holding a tweezer so rigidly to ensure a stability after four hours of working. "But I'm still not done with this one and you're taking all my concentration away."

What made it worse, of course, was that Leon Song - credentials: Charmer, Sleuth, Man who can Bend the Knees of Mortals with just One Smile - was lying down on the table I was working on, his arms and elbows over the top, chin on the middle of his knuckles, eyes up. An innocent smile plastered all across his face.

Good god.

"I believe in you," he whispered.

"Thanks," I said, pretending that didn't hit as much as it did. My dominant hand was shaking, holding on the tweezer, and I gritted my teeth and used my other hand to steady my other wrist. My last Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death box - an art piece that Leon had ready when I went to his house, well, his castle, Château L'étoile du Matin as part of my study to become a little more adept in investigations. Sleuthing.

It's been an odd month or so.

Never would've expected a simple day-to-day at an ice cream shop, barely making conversation, would lead me in all the ways, at the only piece of historics in my little town - a French castle built upon ruins, recently remade for its newest occupation, a downtrodden investigator, picking apart crime scenes to figure out the situation and taking out murder weapons barely the size of my pinky.

Honestly.

"Alright, so this - " Tongue out, I was barely breathing as it is. " - is the murder weapon. Stained with blood, hardened, perfect. Oh, well. Not perfect." Setting the candelabra out of the small four cornered diorama of a dining room with an almost perfect picture, save for the few cultries on the floor, the glove over the door, and the dead man - an artfully done doll - with his head on his soup, the back of him whammed with something, now figured as the only candelabra missing.

"... Of course to done it up to a perfect murder, they took out all the other candles and had to stuff it quickly - ah, bottom drawer of the cabinet. Makes a mess over the blood spilling, so the killer is an amateur. And most likely did it over the heat of the moment. A crime of passion." I checked the small notecard. "Wife done it... or son."

"Son," Leon answered and pointed to the rug. "Shoes are not heels behind him. Patterns of oxfords I'd assume. The mother helped clean the crime scene though. Her shoes are only obvious on everywhere but behind the body, where one pair is most distinct."

I finally put down my tweezers and stretched. "Thoughtful of her."

Leon grinned. "That's family for you. Also this was set in the 1950s by the obvious style of the wallpaper, the man's suit, and that awful cabinet. So not really a particular time when it came to cleaning up crime scenes."

A knock came, followed by the appearance of Mr. Lancaster. As ever, the house butler and the one generally in charge of everything to do with the manor, Mr. Lancaster was pristine and perfect. Though he wasn't as old as Mr. Connolly, the one in charge of the security, or Ms. Oakley, who was one of the former maids of the former owners - there was a certain air to him that made it hard for me to approach him without feeling awkward and out of depth.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lancaster," I did say. We were on polite waters after all.

"Good afternoon, young miss." He didn't smile and he was already turning to Leon, but in the few weeks I've dropped by the manor, his tone had become friendlier and warmer. I suppose, after helping your boss against a murder charge does help familial connections. "A parcel has been received for you. A great matter of urgency was requested when it arrived."

"A matter of great urgency?" Leon leaned back on his seat. "Contents?"

"A USB file and a small letter. We ensured it wasn't a threat of any kind, but the carrier - not the usual lad, a stern fellow with an Essex accent, tall and a little ruddy and rude - insisted it must be seen today. Dashed as soon as it was signed and delivered. Confirmed from London, however."

"Thrilling," But Leon's tone was halfway to mocking. This and that has been arriving in his house ever since he was found not guilty against the dead body months back. Random letters and calls, asking his help, Leon turned them all away with just a shake of his head.

"Do I have a sender's name?"

"A Mr. Dominic Prince, sir."

"Dominic?" Leon sat up so abruptly, the chair swayed and with one foot sort of tangled with the chair's leg, he fell in a great mass of tangled limbs.

Mr. Lancaster and I stood up to help almost immediately, but Leon raised a hand and untangled himself, his expression one of someone who didn't really understood what happened to him physically, but was instead musing the thoughts in his head, shocked and amused at the same time.

However I was more enamoured with the name unraveled.

"You know Dominic Prince?" I asked, surprised.

"You know him too, Wendy?"

There was something in his tone that made me blush, offended. "Who in England doesn't know Dominic Prince?" He was a common name among the London elites and paps. Plastered blonde hair and sharp, sort of royalty rugged features without the blue blood - Dominic Prince was a billionaire philanthropist slash playboy slash someone famous who is always somehow in a scandal of some sort.

Just because I was from a small town, I do understand some bits of London gossip. After all, Quinn Fong regularly checked news about celebrities to poke fun at them. She had notifications favouring particular media sites that really focus up on the 'new' nobility, that is to say, the English and American celebrities.

"Oh." Leon stood up, brushing his silk pants. "I didn't mean it that way, my apologies. I meant that you know know him."

"And you know know him?"

"Afraid so." Leon frowned. "What on earth could he want with me? I haven't talked to him in nearly a year, even before my incarceration."

"Friendly chat?"

Leon's expression darkened. "Dominic Prince poses friendly chats as a faux pass against something far more sinister."

"Oh." I felt awkward again. "So you're not friends?" Though I was sure I heard his voice brighten slightly at the mention of the name.

"Oh we are. Sort of."

I made a face at him. His returning smile was cheeky.

Mr. Lancaster coughed. "So what shall I do, young master?"

"Eh." Leon turned to me.

I smiled and waved it away. "Don't mind me, I better go anyway. It'll be dinner soon and if I'm late again, my dad will be bound to ask what I'm really doing in my free time."

Leon smirked. "You could tell him you're training to be a detective."

"If only I had guts." I rolled my eyes. "Go and answer that parcel. I'm sure it's something brilliant."

"Dangerous more likely."

"And you sound absolutely thrilled by the idea."

"Heh." Leon smiled. "Maybe I am. Oh no, my sense of jumping into danger has been restarted. Will you jump with me if I ask?"

I know he was joking, though recently his particular jokes of joining forces came in far more frequently and less and less of the joking tone and more of that honest glint in his eyes.

I was starting to lose answers that didn't say yes, of course.

Because you couldn't separate Leon Song from the extraordinary. And I wasn't sure if I was more seduced because it was him or the extraordinary that clung onto him.

So I didn't answer him this time, only smiled, because I felt something was different once again. A quiet, almost soundless hum of anticipation.

And I was getting excited.

But I didn't want him to know it yet.

After all, a lady must keep her options open.

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NEXT

EPISODE 02

PRINCE'S PARCEL

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