Say what you want about Neptune, but at least our criminals come with a beach. If I have to run away from some murderer, I'd rather not look like Frances McDormand in Fargo.

Keith Mars responded right away. Try to play nice with this sheriff at least.

Veronica landed in Riverdale by helicopter, a perk when the folks hiring you are loaded with that sweet, sweet money. Literally. The Blossoms were apparently local royalty because of their monopoly on maple syrup in the region. They were the Kanes with less tech and more trees. Veronica assured herself that just because they were rich and had just lost a beloved child, it didn't mean they would be as shady or as cruel as the Kanes. After all, Celeste had shot Weevil and then framed him for gang violence, which was an incredibly high bar to set for shittiness.

Veronica decided to make a game out of how awful they appeared to be the moment she arrived at Thorn Hill. These were the kind of people who named their estate. Minus one on the rich people scale of coolness. The moment she stepped inside, the game was in full force. Bonus round! Minus one for everything that looks like it came out of a Victorian horror story.

"Excuse me, dear…"

"Fuck!" Veronica physically jumped at the sight of her greeter.

"Such language on a young woman! But I won't tell…"

The old woman sat in a wheelchair, had one blind eye, and somehow maintained a streak of red in her otherwise white hair. Fifty points! Fifty points for creepy!

"Nana, I'll show her around." The girl who spoke couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen. She wore bright red lipstick that matched her long silky hair, as well as the gold and red spider brooch on her top. "Hi, I'm Cheryl Blossom."

The girl reached the bottom of the stairs and held out her hand. Veronica closed the distance and shook it, grateful for at least one normal interaction, even if Cheryl's smile looked like she'd slapped it clean off Madison Sinclair's face and pasted it on her own.

"Veronica. Veronica Mars. Your parents hired me as a private investigator?"

Cheryl nodded. "To find Jason's killer. He was my brother. My twin."

"Excuse me, sweetheart, we aren't taking press visits." The new voice belonged to a tall man with red hair that seemed a little more wig than hair to Veronica. A stern looking woman with auburn hair followed close behind him. It was like this family was competing with Scotland for the densest population of redheads.

"Dad, this is Veronica," Cheryl explained. "She's a PI."

The stern woman extended her hand. "Penelope Blossom. Thank you for coming, Ms. Mars. This is my husband, Clifford."

"A private investigator? For God's sake, Penelope, we don't need more attention drawn to this and causing a scandal."

"Scandal? Our son is dead, Clifford."

"Could you at least have found someone who doesn't look like she's one of Cheryl's goddamn cheerleader friends?"

"Clifford!"

Clifford addressed Veronica this time. "Thank you for coming out. We'll reimburse you for your travel."

He started to turn away, but Veronica stopped him. "Mr. Blossom, I think you're overlooking something here."

Clifford stopped and looked back at her. "What is that, Ms. Mars?"

"On the phone, Mrs. Blossom mentioned you suspect a student might have something to do with your son's death."

"Yes, that's right."

"Then who better to go undercover than, in your own words, someone who looks like one of Cheryl's goddamn cheerleader friends?"

Clifford tensed but held his tongue. "Penelope, you deal with this. I'm going to talk to the sheriff." He walked away briskly, leaving Veronica alone with Penelope and Cheryl.

"Pardon my husband, he grieves differently," Penelope apologized. "Do you what need to do. Money is no object. I want regular reports via my email, which Cheryl can provide you. You will obtain results, or you will be dismissed. Understood."

Veronica eyed Penelope curiously. "Yes, ma'am."

Penelope trotted off in the direction her husband had left. Veronica turned to face Cheryl.

"Guess we're gonna be best friends."

"Can you ever cheer?"

Veronica put on her best plastic smile. "Ready? Okay!"

Cheryl's face contorted into something between a smile and a sneer. "Oh God, how am I going to pass you off as River Vixen material?"

"It's not the first time I've worn a cheer skirt." Meg Manning had once loaned Veronica her outfit after a cruel high school prank left her with no other options for what to wear.

"You're too nice. That's even less believable for a Vixen. I'm the HBIC, so you'd better get mean."

Veronica gave the redhead a sly grin. "Don't worry. I'm a professional."