Heehee…

I know, this story was really unexpected.

Okay, my 'why' for this story being posted is because I've never had a story Brittany based before and I don't feel that's right.

I also just played the game called ART OF MURDER: Hunt for the Puppeteer. I liked it soooooooo much! I thought it would be fun to make a story out of it 'cause the storyline was awesome.

So I hope you like it. I only take credit for putting the story in fanfiction mode and NOTHING ELSE!

Please Read and Review.

Oh! Quick note- (I HAVE DECIDED I WILL NOT START GW: GHOST WHISPERS UNTIL NEXT YEAR!)

Enjoy!

(Paris, 15 April 20:00 hrs.)

Twenty-four year old Brittany got out of the cab and sighed. She was not happy. True, she was in Paris, but not for the reasons she wanted to be.

Eleanor had gotten her into this. She was working undercover for some jobs for the FBI. Brittany had taken some training but not much. Not the kind people with a passion for it did.

Brittany hadn't wanted to take it at first but Eleanor had been so convincing. She had promised Brittany that she would make sure she did all the legwork and Brittany could' watch and learn.' Not only that, Brittany really wanted to come to Paris, but finding out she'd be working the whole time was a letdown.

Brittany picked up her bags and headed toward her room. She didn't see a clerk but didn't need to. She already had a key.

She went to her room on the third floor and started to unpack. Once she was done, she set up her laptop on the desk and took out the case file. She wanted to read over it one more time before heading to the crime scene. She also had to wait for Eleanor.

Looking over the file, she shivered from her head to her toes. The killer, or the Puppeteer, was a sick psychopathic serial killer. He had already killed four people in the States, and now here he was in Paris, killing again.

Why? No one knew. It was still a mystery.

Suddenly, her cell phone ring. She pulled it out of her bag. "Hello?"

"Brittany? Are you at the hotel?"

"Yes, El, where are you?"

"I'm uh, not to far…"

"Okay, well hurry here. We need to get to the crime scene."

"Can't, sorry."

Brittany was shocked. "What do you mean you can't come. You are on the case."

"I know, and so are you so you can go for me."

"Are you kidding me? No! I'm not doing this!"

"Don't worry I'm just a little late. All you have to do is go to the Ballet Rehearsal Room. Take a cab. Talk to Officer Pety about the murder, take some notes and collect the evidence they missed. You'll probably have to improvise with the stuff at hand."

"I'm confused," Brittany said.

"Trust me Britt, the French police are okay, but not great. Especially on the weekend since they're off in a couple of hours."

"But El, you're trained for this kind of thing-"

"So are you, Britt. I've seen you talk plenty of people into things." Eleanor paused for a moment. "I'll meet up with you afterward okay? We'll go over it together. But I've got to go and so do you. Neither of us have much time." Then she hung up.

Brittany sighed and picked up her bag with her camera and journal in it. I should've known she was going to pull something like this, she thought before she headed out the door. *

Brittany couldn't help but think about trying to catch the killer. She thought even Jeanette would be better at this than her, even though Jeanette was more into paranormal type now.

Brittany never thought Jen would want to be the one into that kind of thing. She was pretty easy to scare but Jeanette had started watching paranormal shows and then starting reading on it. Suddenly one day she announced she was going into the field herself.

But Brittany had to give Jeanette credit though. Even she looked at the facts before believing there was ever a ghost. But after helping Jeanette once with something she thought included 'shadow people', Brittany promised from then on to stay away from the paranormal.

"We are here, Mademoiselle," the cab driver said.

"Thanks." Brittany handed him the cash and left the cab. She stood there, outside of the Ballet Rehearsal Room. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the worst.

Inside, she walked down the hall and into the first room on the left. It was a big room. Empty, except for the piano, working desk, police officer, and the body hanging from the wall by strings.

Brittany was taken aback. Once again, the Puppeteer had struck; she knew it was the same guy form the pictures in the case file. The body was positioned as if the ballerina were simply sitting down, resting her head. But it was obvious she was dead.

Brittany walked over to the police officer standing near the body. He was a husky man with a five 'o clock shadow and kind of a messy suit along with messy grey hair. She guessed he was the Inspector.

"Hello," Brittany said. "I'm Brittany Miller, private investigator from the FBI agency in New York."

"Bonsoir, when did it happen?"

"Excuse me?" Brittany asked, confused.

"When did the 18th District become part of New York?" He clarified.

"My visit was arranged," Brittany explained. "Weren't you informed?"

"We've got a custom here; we try not to annoy each other before the weekend."

Brittany huffed. "I see that courtesy is no longer practiced here in Paris."

"Sorry mademoiselle, if you're just here to enjoy Paris, than I'm happy to serve."

I wish that was all I was here for, she thought. "I'm here because your higher ups called our FBI for help because they think this is the work of a serial killer we've nicknamed 'the Puppeteer' that we believe has moved to France."

He just stared at her for a moment. "I'm sorry to say you won't be able to take part in the investigation here."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to take any credit, it's all yours. Trust me, I'm just an observer."

"Well, in that case, don't touch anything."

Brittany nodded and looked closely at the body. It was a ballerina. She was sitting on the bench next to an overturned chair. The top half of her body was slouching but still held up with the strings.

"Can I ask a question," Brittany turned back to him, curious.

"Of course, the Yanks are allowed to learn too."

"How was she killed?"

"We'll know that after the autopsy," Officer Pety said.

"I don't see any wounds or blood on the body."

"There are numerous other ways to kill a human you know," he contradicted.

"Yes, but our Puppeteer cuts our victims arteries and lets them slowly bleed to death," she explained.

"Such a lack of haste shows great self-confidence."

Brittany started pacing, thinking about all this carefully. "If it really was the Puppeteer that killed her, he must have killed her earlier and then brought her here!"

"But why go to all the trouble?"

"That's the very essence of the case, Inspector. The effort put into killing this beautiful girl and then posing her like in a painting of Degas."

"You Americans really are really crazy about our artist, aren't you?"

"The killer doesn't have to be American," she went on. "But as far as we know the Puppeteer stopped killing in the States."

Inspector Pety nodded. "A Frenchman, perhaps. He is an artist, am I right?"

"All we know about the Puppeteer was sent over to your office. Haven't you looked over it yet?"

"Maybe on Monday," he said. "Right now it is time for a break. I would like to invite for margret de canard at a certain restraint."

Brittany stepped back a bit, remembering what Eleanor had told her. "Can I stay here for a little bit longer?

Inspector Pety looked skeptical. "Well, my colleges are waiting for me…"

"I'd like to look around a bit more," she said trying to be convincing more for herself than him.

He shrugged and started for the door. "I guess it's never too late to learn. But don't touch anything. That officer out there by the door will stay here and wait for the coroner to come pick up the body."

"I'll make it. It won't take long," she assured him.

"Great, and do you know why I picked this officer to wait here?"

Brittany smiled and caught on. "Because you don't like him?"

"Oui! Bravo, Brittany." Then he left.

Brittany stood there for a minute. It was strange standing there with a dead body and nothing but a camera. Well… I guess I should start taking pictures.

She pulled her camera out and her cellphone started to ring. She picked it up, hoping it was Eleanor. Tough luck.

"Brittany, you there yet," the gruff voice said.

"Yeah Boss, I'm here, without Eleanor."

"That doesn't matter," he said. "Do you know anything about the killer yet?"

"Well, we have another girl dead. But I'm not sure if we have the Puppeteer's handiwork here. I mean, it could be a copycat. The press did write a lot about the killer here."

"Find out as quickly as you can."

"Well the French police asked for our help but the Inspector is keeping things away from me. Can't you intervene or something."

"Not everything can be done through official channels. You'll have to convince him somehow."

"He doesn't want me here, though."

"Maybe he's threatened by you. You know, on a professional level. But it doesn't matter. Collect some photos and documents and send them to me today! I don't care what you have to do."

"I-I c-c-can't work behind his back! I'm not good at that stuff. Maybe we should just wait for Eleanor. She knows-"

"Listen," he interrupted. "You don't have much time. My accountant is asking me about these bills from Paris."

"I know sir but-"

He ignored her. "This can't drag on endlessly."

Brittany sighed. "I'm doing the best that I can."

"I want this trip of yours to be a success but if you fail, I won't be the one to go down."

"Are you threatened by me already, Boss?" She asked smugly.

"Enough of that. Get to work! I want those pictures!" Then he hung up.

Okay Brittany, you've gotta get this one right. Lets start with the body. She turned to the girl and felt a shiver go up her spine. Maybe I should talk to the officer first. Then I'll fell a little better.

Brittany walked out of the room and looked down the hall. He was sitting the next to the door, reading the newspaper.

Composing herself, she walked up to him and professionally introduced herself.

"Hello, mademoiselle. Is everything alright?"

"Yes. But I wanted to know how you were able to examine the room properly without the lights?"

"The light was much better then. The windows are really big."

"Right. But wasn't anybody interested that the wiring was broken," she asked, pointing to the fuse box next to her. The wires looked like they were cut. "In a rehearsal room?"

He shook his head. "Do you have any ideas?"

Brittany shrugged. "Maybe the killer did it."

"But why? Couldn't he simply just turn off the lights?"

"Perhaps he wanted to hide something from us in the darkness," she said. "Or maybe he wanted to draw our attention to something?"

The officer went back to his newspaper. "That's an original thought."

"Maybe we have an original killer," she said, walking back toward the rehearsal room. I hope not…

Back in the room, Brittany walked over to the body, camera in hand. She started taking pictures when she saw something on the floor. It was a doll.

She kneeled down and looked closely at it. She was sure it had to have been the Puppeteer. At all of his other crime scenes he had left a Victorian looking doll next to the bodies. It was handmade, just like all the other ones.

I need to put it in something, she thought. Then she remembered she didn't have anything to carry it in. She was there with practically nothing!

She looked around and saw the desk on the other side of the room. Walking over to it, she checked in the desk draw. There in the first drawer, were plastic baggies. Well, Eleanor did say to improvise.

She took out the baggies. Sitting next to them was a roll of clear tape and a small pack of cotton swabs and matches. She put the tape and matches in her small bag and walked back over to the girl.

She leaned down and took a picture of the doll before putting it in one of the baggies. Checking over the body, she saw something glittering near the girl's mouth. Could she have been drugged with something?

She used the cotton swab on the evidence then put it away. Inspector Pety isn't as good as he thinks.

Suddenly, a creeking noise was coming from her left. She walked over to the windows. One of the top ones was open. It was really annoying.

She saw a wooden pole lying on the floor. She picked it up and used it to close the window. While doing so, she saw that the bigger window below it had a smudge. It was a fingerprint. This is great, she thought.

After closing the window, she looked around for something to collect the fingerprint with. Quickly, she took a picture of it. I need fingerprint powder… Or something near it.

She walked back over to the desk. In the bottom right drawer, there was a sheet of paper under a giant stapler. The only thing she didn't see was a pencil. Just my luck.

She left the Reahearsal room and went down the hallway to the front door where the officer was still posted, waiting for the coroner.

"Do you have a pencil I could use?" She asked.

"Will a pen do?" he asked, looking around for one.

"No, I really need a pencil," she said.

"Oh wait, I have one." He handed her the pencil.

Brittany quickly went back to the room and to the desk. Using the stapler, she broke the black lead of the pencil into dust. Using it, she dusted it over the fingerprint carefully. Finished, she put the tape over the print to pick it up.

She was about to put it in the bag when she thought of something. Brittany tore a piece of paper from the desk and taped the print onto it. There, now it won't smudge. Putting it away, she looked around the room once more.

I guess I'm done. Brittany walked over to the girls once more. "I'm sorry that this had to happen to you," she said quietly. "I promise my sister will catch your killer and I'll do everything I can to help. Don't worry."

Suddenly, her arm moved. Brittany let out a cry and stepped back. Her foot went into a loose bored on the floor that made her trip and fall backward.

She sat up and looked and the body. The string holding up her arm had come loose. Brittany rolled her eyes. Great, now I have both of Jeanette's old traits. I'm a scaredy-cat and a klutz.

Lifting her foot up, she was relieved to see it was only a scratch. Looking at the floor, she saw the board that had let loose. Picking it up, she saw that the back of it had the letters 1793 written on it. Another clue?

Quickly, she went out to the officer. "I have some evidence that the Inspector missed. Do you think you can catch him at your department?"

"Well, he's not going to be happy."

"Don't worry, when he sees what I found for him, he'll be jumping for joy," she joked.

"Doubt it, but I'll give it to him."

Brittany waved. "Thanks," she said and walked out.

On the street, she saw a cab and hailed it down. She knew she needed to get back to her room and send over the pictures. It stopped and she headed for it. But she turned around when she felt someoeone watching her.

Looking, she didn't see anyone. The cab honked. Stop it Brittany, you're just being paranoid, she thought before getting into the cab.