More interviews. Ebony felt like the world had been caught in a hurricane, spinning around her until all she could hear was glitches of conversation, and all she could see was faint blurs of browns and grays and bright ginger pelts.

It was Rowan's steady breaths that anchored her back to reality; it was Rowan's tail lying flat across her back. It was how he turned to her in the moments they were alone, whispering a quiet comfort, like they weren't on the edge of death at practically every second. 

Ebony's vision was beginning to spin again, but Rowan touched his nose to her ear before preceding to the next table, where a duo of she-cats were sitting.

"Hi there," Rowan meowed, giving a short, awkward wave of his tail. He slid into the seat across from them and motioned for Ebony to do the same. "I'm Rowan, with the PPD, as you could probably gu- you know what, let's just start this interview." He pulled out a pad of notepaper and slid it toward Ebony. 

She stared at the blue lines, stark against the light yellow paper. 

"Okay, well, what were you doing at 6:42. The time of the first murder," began Rowan. 

The first she-cat opened her mouth, then closed it. "Aren't you going to ask for our names?" the second one asked.

Rowan flicked his tail toward the first she-cat. "Finch," he meowed, "a young she-cat who goes to Pusa City High School, eleventh grade, if I remember correctly. You're the quieter one of your litter, and you have a strong interest in trying to ask my officers questions whenever you can find one of them." He turned toward the second one. "You're not on our interest list, but your name is Bat, and I'm pretty sure you don't like your sister's... interests."

"How do you know that?" Finch asked sharply.

Rowan gave a half-heartened shrug. "We like to keep an eye on all the... potential criminals. And the potential new hires."

Ebony hadn't heard a word about an interest list, but she decided to keep quiet and pretend to be transcribing the conversation. 

"So, I'll repeat my question. What were you doing at 6:42?" 

"We were ordering our food," Finch meowed, staring at her paws. "I asked for... mouse stew with extra sea salt. The mouse stew here is the best, right Nut?" Nut nodded. "A-and Nut ordered her favorite meal, thrush wings with a side of catmint-spiced salad. It's a bit expensive, but we know the owner of this place, so we get stuff cheaper."

"So you would say you two come here a lot?" Rowan asked, giving Ebony a quick nudge. She realized she had forgotten to keep writing. Cheeks burning, she went back to scribbling on the notepad. 

"Every Wednesday, but we decided to come get some food today," Nut mewed with a shrug.

"Do you have access to the back of the kitchen, or the food supplies, or anything like that?" asked Rowan.

Finch looked skeptical, but after a brief pause, she nodded. "Yeah, Grass lets us in the back - "

A small gray tom interrupted her. "Another dead," he meowed, eyes stretched wider than what seemed possible. "F-follow me." It was 9:42.

Ebony shot up and pushed the notepad toward Rowan. "You finish this," she meowed, ears now flat against her skull. "I'll check out the new death." The black she-cat didn't know why, but she felt as if she needed to prove herself to the two she-cats - especially Finch.

Her heart was already pounding as she followed the gray tom toward the other side of the restaurant. The small crowd parted to make way for the detective. Her eyes locked with those of the body on the floor. A black tomkit, green eyes wide and muzzle stretched halfway through a yowl. He died in pain.

Next to her, the mother. Sobbing. Head in her paws.

Ebony nearly couldn't bear the sight as her heart impossibly sped up. "I'm so, so sorry for your loss," she meowed quietly, stepping toward the she-cat. 

Now Ebony found her gaze locked with the mother. The she-cat's fur was ruffled as if she had been through moons of grief, even though it must've only been a few minutes. "You're one of those detectives." Her tone was cold, didn't waver. Ebony found herself wondering if the she-cat was the murderer, killing her son to dissuade blame.

Ebony swallowed her accusation. She couldn't afford to scare the victim. 

"Yes, would you like to come with me into another room? It's sadly a law that 
I'm required to ask you a few questions," she meowed, touching her muzzle to the she-cat's shoulder.

"I'm fine... this won't be the first kit I lost. And ask me right here." Less cold, more hollow. Ebony shivered. 

"Okay, what were you doing at the time of the murder?" Ebony wished she had her notepad, but she had abandoned it with Rowan. She felt much less professional without a pen in her paw. 

"I was sitting against the wall," the she-cat paused, flicking her tail toward a spot on the wall, right next to the kit's body. "And he just let out a scream. Before I turned, he was dead." His green eyes were still frozen, empty. It was unsettling. Ebony was unsettled.

"Had he been out of your sight since the first murder?" 

"Yes, he went to the bathroom earlier, and during the first murder, he was crying and kept running away from me."

"From you? Why?" Ebony's ears peaked as her interest piqued. 

The she-cat shrugged. "He was scared and had a lot of pent-up energy. I don't blame him."

Ebony didn't know who to blame anymore. The faces of the cats around her were morphing into those of her enemies, of villains, of murderers. The case needed to be solved.

Ebony needed to solve it.

X X X

Three more murders.

Dozens of interviews.

One bathroom break.

Ebony didn't know how much longer she could take it.

by rio