As Basil finished speaking, most of the detectives dispersed in embarrassment—but Carwell lingered, curiosity gleaming in his eyes as he studied the man before him. He watched Basil grin with self-satisfaction, casting him a look that felt almost mocking. Grace, meanwhile, covered her face in dismay. Though she was both shocked and impressed by Basil's words, his arrogance had not only ruined his first impression but had managed to make her look bad by association.

  "Who even are you? How does Grace even know someone like you?" Carwell asked, giving Basil a disgusted look as though he were staring at a lunatic.

  "You're a detective, right? How about you use that brain of yours and make a deduction—" Basil retorted, before Grace pinched his arm sharply and dragged him away.

  She pulled him into the bathroom, slamming the white wooden door behind them before leaning against the sink, her voice rising in fury. As Grace scolded him, Basil could only watch her—her face flushed red with anger, her finger pointed accusingly at him as words flew like bullets. He was bewildered—not by her shouting, but by the fact that she seemed to be taking their side.

  "Why are you so mad? I stated the points..." Basil interrupted, his tone calm but defiant. "They are idiots—like background characters in a bad book. Boring, dumb, irrelevant."

  Grace looked at him with her mouth hanging open, "How could he say things like that to people!" she thought. But before she could say more, Basil walked out of the bathroom and went back to the body. She stared at him, regretting having brought him... but she had to admit that what Basil said back there was beyond impressive. She could have never caught even one thing he said, let alone all.

  While Grace was standing there, Basil was back at the body, examining it, studying it. He stood there almost motionless, but his eyes darted at insane speeds. He bent down and peeled open Emily's eye, revealing eyes with hints of red. Then he looked at her face, which had slight wrinkles around her nose and forehead, but it was covered with makeup. Basil stood and took note of her clothes, "tight dress, high heels... her skin is also pretty exposed," he thought, but something was off. Basil looked back at Emily's laundry basket, "T-shirts, sweat pants," he said as he walked towards her closet, "I knew it."

  Inside were various long-sleeved clothes, modest dresses, and cozy clothing. Emily's clothes suggest that she dresses for comfort or modesty, rather than seductively. Basil then turned back and sniffed the body—a small hint of alcohol—then it clicked. Unhappy marriage, different dressing patterns, seductive clothing that catches male attention...

  "An affair I see..." he said as he turned to find Grace.

  Finding Grace in the living room, he sees Grace talking to a forensic investigator about a white not that they found tucked behind a cabinet located beside the TV. Curious, Basil snuck behind Grace to get a closer look, "hey~" he said quietly, making her jump a little.

  "OH MY!" Grace yelled with her face red as crimson, "CAN YOU PLEASE STOP THAT!?"

  Getting a better look, Basil saw that the note looked quite old, judging by the yellowish tone and the faded pen strokes. What was written on it was quite peculiar, "Rachee? Rach... huh?" Basil said as he took the note from Grace's hands.

  "Rache, German word for Revenge", said Grace.

  She watched Basil walk around with the note, as if he were admiring art in a museum. He turned it delicately between his fingers, lifting it toward the light as though it were a painting under inspection. His eyes narrowed, pupils reflecting the glow as he studied every fiber. The light bled cleanly through the sheet: thin stock, likely cheap. Faint blue guidelines surfaced beneath the ink, and along the top edge, a soft, uneven tear. "Notebook paper..", Basil concluded. "Torn out in a hurry."

  But just as Grace was about to say something, a detective, Detective Simons, walked into the house, leaning against the door frame, "Revenge, hm? It could be that the victim is trying to tell us-"

  "Yes, thank you for your input," Basil said before slamming the door in his face.

  "wha?!" Grace stuttered in shock, "WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!! That was a logical reason!"

  Basil gave Grace a look of dissatisfaction, as if questioning if Grace actually passed Police school, but Grace wasn't having it. In the span of 15 minutes, Basil had humiliated her colleagues and made her look bad so much that she lost count. How could he even dismiss a possible theory? She stared at him intensely, demanding an answer or explanation on why he had dismissed it so fast.

  "ughhh..." Basil groaned, "You want an explanation, do you?" he said as if he could read her mind

  "Yes," Grace said firmly, like a parent scolding her child.

  "Well... if we use our brains..." Basil said, "Why... in the world, would a dying woman write 'revenge' on an old piece of paper, and what? Somehow crawl her way into the living room to hide it? I already deduced that this wasn't her original place of death and that she was moved here afterward."

  Grace opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Looking down, she knew he was right, but his attitude was still unacceptable. "Then what do you say?" Grace said with curiosity.

  "I thought about it, around 24 possible conclusions, but it's most likely an unfinished name. Rachel, to be exact."

  Grace was surprised, "24?!" she thought. To think of 24 different theories at once was undoubtedly impressive. "Wait, but why Rachel?" she asked once more.

  "Excellent question, my dear Grace... why Rachel?" Basil said as he put his hands together and began to think, "What makes Rachel so Important? A friend? No, nobody values a friend THAT much. A husband? It can't be, based on her wedding ring, the outside was dirty while the inside was clean, meaning she often takes it off, meaning she's married but not happy. Maybe another man? No, no man has the name Rachel. Perhaps a woman? No, based on how the victim dresses up, she's not a lesbian. So what could it be?" Basil thought.

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  "ugh..." Basil said under his breath before turning to Grace. "Alright, so here's the deal. You're going to use that pretty face of yours and try to find information on this Rachel person", he said, grinning.

  Wha... wai- HUH?!!" Grace said, her face red and her voice messy. She doesn't know if she should be mad that Basil just told her to seduce her way into getting information, or to be happy that... "no no no... I should be mad..." Garce told herself.

  But by the time Grace (somewhat) got her act together, she saw Basil preparing to leave, "Hey! Where are you going?" she said as she rushed forward. But then, Basil suddenly stopped in his tracks. In an instant, Grace crashed into Basil, stumbling back a few steps. As she regained balance, she looked at the motionless Basil, just standing there. She called out to him, asking what the matter was, but he was motionless like a mannequin. Stepping forward, she saw his eyes closed, as if thinking of something.

  But while Grace was yelling (or more accurately staring) at Basil, Basil's mind was still. He felt like there was a missing piece; every good crime has a clue, a clue that pushes them forward. The note couldn't be the only one. Basil thought back, walking through a still image of the crime scene, every officer, detective, and even the beet-red Grace was frozen in time. He walked into the bedroom and examined the body once more in his mind, from memory. "Scratches on the back of her high heels, tiny dirt splashes on the bottom back of her ankles..." Basil thought.

  "suitcase!" Basil yelled, walking past Grace and asking the Other officers and detectives, "Has anyone seen a suitcase??!" he cried out.

  But all looked at him weirdly, as if they didn't know what he was talking about. Grace watched him ignore her. She wanted ot help, but not knowing what he was trying to find and the importance, she couldn't. Finally, Grace pulled on Basil's arm and forced him to look at her.

  "What are you talking about?!" Graces said, "Tell me."

  "She should be a suitcase somewhere here, somewhat small, mini if you will."

  "Maybe she forgot it somewhere," Grace suggested

  "Oh, please, look at her clothes, she color codes her own underwear for crying out loud. She's highly organized; there's no way she would forget something that important."

  With no other solution, Basil left quickly, telling Grace to find out who Rachel was, and he would handle the suitcase. Grace watched Basil leave with question marks over her head... this was going to be a long one.

  .

  .

  .

  September 27

  As Fall started to approach, the days started to get increasingly chilly. Hopping out of a cab, Grace was once again standing in front of the humble bakery; the smell of bread was quite rich, giving off an easy and warm feeling. But in Grace's hands were nothing close to warm and cozy. She held a folder tight in her hands as she stepped into the alley and knocked on the same brown door. It didn't take long for the old lady to welcome her in with a smile. Grace stepped in, hung her coat on the coat stand beside the door, and made her way to Basil's room. However, upon reaching the top, she noticed that Basil's door was unlocked, slightly ajar, slightly open.

  She knocked out of respect, but knowing Basil, he most likely would care slightly.

  "If you're not blind, you would know that the door is unlocked, my dear...." Basil said in a sleepy tone.

  Cursing under her breath, she opened the door, first with a loud creak, then the sound of stacks of books tumbling on the floor. As she peeked in, she was quite surprised by Basil's living conditions. The room was quite small, neither a bedroom nor a storage room. Just a living room that looks incomplete, the paint job seemed as if multiple people had done it, with some parts even, and some not. Some parts were white, some were blue, and some were green. Grace looked at the piles of books that had been knocked over. It was piles of Sherlock Holmes novels, some were rewrites, some were adaptations, and classics. Then she looked pasted the books to the side, a little kitchen with a fridge, a messy counter, and a normal-looking stove.

  Finally, she glanced at the living room, the "main" and only other room, besides the bathroom, that looked livable. The wooden floors were quite smooth, although some parts seemed a little on the rougher side. In the middle was a rectangular-shaped coffee table; the only reason she knew was that she could see a few corners poking out of the piles of paper, books, and other miscellaneous items that Basil had seemingly placed on it. Beside it was a dark green couch. The couch itself seemed old, most likely borrowed from the bakery owner. Then Grace glanced at the couch furthest from the door, also a dark green couch, but it was much bigger.

  However, unfortunately (or fortunately), Grace's attention swerved towards Basil himself, who was lying on the couch with his arm over his face and his trench on the floor. Only wearing black pants and a white loose collar shirt with his tie tied loosely around his neck, and as much as Grace hated it, she stared. Grace was quite shocked; she had expected Basil's figure to be skinnier, maybe even lanky. But what she saw proved her wrong. Basil had a nice figure, not too big, not too small. He was quite fit.

  "If you're going to stare, at least make it less obvious..."

  Basil's voice snapped Grace out of her thoughts. She turns away nervously, using the folder to cover her red face, "I-I wasn't staring!" Grace exclaimed.

  Ignoring Grace's embarrassment, Basil rose from the couch, bursting with excitement. "so.... about Rachel. Find anything interesting?"

  "No..." Grace sighed, "She was Emily's daughter."

  Basil stood up in excitement, "Nothing interesting?! That's extremely interesting! Her age? Birth? Location? Anything-"

  "She's dead."

  Basil stared at Grace, blinking slowly as if not hearing what she said.

  "Dead...." he muttered, "DEAD?!" he followed, "How can she be dead?!"

  "She was Emily's stillborn. died a few years back."

  Basil plopped back on the couch in disappointment, sulking at the dead end like a little kid. But then, his face lit up once more as he remembered the suitcase. He reached from behind the couch and lifted out a small, mini, gray suitcase, big enough to fit essentials that last a week or so, small enough to be used for short trips. Grace saw the suitcase appear from behind the couch and gasped.

  "You found it!?" she said.

  "Of course I did! It was quite easy, you see." Basil exclaimed as he started explaining, "We know that Emily was elsewhere 2 weeks before her death, seeing that she had a suitcase, she most likely went on the trip. Her wallet had American currency, meaning she was in America, and where do people often go on a trip to America? Las Vegas. This would explain her-"

  "Just get to the point," Grace interupped him as she saw the beginning of a long story plot.

  Basil covered his face with his hands in embarrassment as he continued, "I didn't find anything. I had to resort to boring tactics like asking around," he said, "I found it in a dumpster..."

  Grace chuckled. The brilliant and bratty Basil was sulking and embarrassed because he had to do dirty work, use normal ways to find clues. She watched him narrow his eyes and giving her a sharp stare, demanding she stop laughing. But she continued nonetheless. Finally, she stopped. Sitting on the dark green couch, she leaned closer to the suitcase.

  "Have you opened it yet? What's in it?" Grace asked in curiosity.

  Basil's mood changed in an instant as he leaned forward as well, putting his hands on the suitcase with a smirk, looking at Grace with a playful expression.

  "Not yet, my friend, but we will very soon." He said, his fingers gripping tight on the silver zipper, then, in a swift motion, he unzipped it and opened it.