Okay! So, this is a murder mystery story that I felt like writing. I got the idea from my sister, 3VAD127. She wrote something fairly similar to this, but she never posted it on FanFiction. This will be a little two-chap story. The answer will be the second chapter, and I'll mention anyone who gets it right. The 39 Clues don't really exist in this one. I just used the characters.

Disclaimer: I, SugarQueen8490, don't own squat blah blah blah...

~L~

London, England 2021, 6:30 p.m.

Detective Ian Kabra of the London MI-6 stepped out of the restaurant in which he had eaten dinner and pulled his coat around himself tighter. It was cold, wet, and raining cats and dogs. It had been for days. This kind of rain made everything slick, even the pavement. England's weather was always unpredictable and generally unpleasant. He frowned when he remembered how long of a walk it was to his car.

Simply accepting the fact that he would get wet, he made his way up the street toward the parking lot where his car stood in wait. As he was passing an alley in between two buildings, something caught his eye at the end of it. He stopped and stared into the narrow laneway of pitch blackness. Normally he would have simply passed it by, but something about the situation was telling him that he needed to investigate.

He made his way down the alley, dodging trashcans and garbage bags. When he came to the end, the sight made his blood run cold. A man was lying in a crumpled heap, blood running about him in streams. Ian bent down and felt for a pulse. None. He narrowed his eyes and felt the man's hand. Still warm. He must have died just recently. Maybe even while Ian was eating his dinner. He looked around for any signs of a struggle. There were no wounds on the man except for a large gash in his temple. There was a large bruise around the wound as well, indicating a great impact. The only other things that he found were two plastic zip-up bags. One held a 9 millimeter pistol, and the other held three empty bullet casings.

Ian frowned. "How curious," he whispered to himself. After a moment of thought, he decided to call the police. He knew he could most likely solve this mystery alone, but he wanted to bring more people into the situation incase he needed backup in the near future.

In under fifteen minutes, the police were on the scene. They all turned suspicious eyes toward Ian, wondering how he could have found such a thing in the deep blackness of that back alley. He simply smiled at them. What looked to be the chief of that squad approached him with the same look in his eyes as everyone else.

"So, Mr. Kabra. How exactly did you come across this scene? It doesn't exactly look like something one would stumble upon."

Ian sighed in impatience. "If you simply must know, I've been trained for a very long time to always be on the lookout for suspicious things. Something suspicious caught my eye from the back of the alley, and I followed my instincts to go investigate. That's enough questions, investigator. You're only wasting your time questioning the wrong person."

He flashed his badge at the officer, and his eyes widened. The MI-6 was a branch of law enforcement that was far above these petty, little police officers, and the chief knew it. "Oh, and that's Detective Kabra to you."

Ian walked off from the chief to oversee the mortician of the squad. Maybe – though it was nigh impossible – he had missed something crucial that this man could uncover. He sighed in frustration when the mortician announced only the things that he had already discovered. He paced up and down the alley, trying to clear his head and fit theories. His team on the MI-6 always said that he was the first to jump to conclusions on every single case they had been given. Ninety-five percent of the time he was absolutely right. That's what made him the best. His ability to catch even the smallest details and fit them into the bigger picture like a perfect little puzzle piece.

When he reached the mouth of the alley, he caught a hint of a conversation between the chief and one of his officers. He narrowed his eyes and moved closer to see if he could hear them better without being accused of eavesdropping.

"We just got a new murder report," the officer was saying. "There was a shooting down on 34th Street. A woman, Stella Miller, was shot three times in the chest."

"Any identification on the type of bullet?" the chief inquired.

"They're being tested as we speak."

"Does she have any enemies? People who would be out for her blood?"

"None that we know of so far, Sir. She has a good reputation with the people she associates with, and the word is that she just recently got engaged."

"Poor, broken-hearted sucker." - the chief shook his head - "Any identification on this dead guy over there?" He motioned toward the alley.

"We ran his face through our computers. His name's Kyle Fischer. He has no criminal record, Sir. Not even a speeding ticket. He's completely clean."

The chief nodded. "Good work, Witherspoon. Call an ambulance... and tell them to bring a bodybag."

~L~

The next morning when Ian went into work, his boss smacked a new case file onto his desk. "Get to work," he said bluntly.

Ian looked down at the crisp, cream-colored manila folder. He opened it with little interest until he saw the name of the case in big black letters: "The Miller Case." Miller... Stella Miller...

He flipped through the file, not letting a single detail out of sight. "Victim: Stella Miller. Time of death: Between 5:00 and 7:00 p.m.," the file read. "Born April 18, 1999. Engaged to Rick Higdon. Height: 5'7" Weight: 116 lbs. Hair: Wavy, dark brown. Eyes: Light brown."

He read every single little thing that was printed on every sheet of paper in that folder. When he came to the last page, something caught his eye. "Shot three times in the chest with a 9 mm pistol. Pistol and bullet casings have yet to be found."

He narrowed his eyes at the paper and sat still for a moment, pondering his latest finding. It was time to do a little research on Kyle Fischer...

~L~

Ian wiped his eyes and glared at the computer screen for the umpteenth time in the last two hours. There was absolutely nothing on this guy! That officer Witherspoon had been right. He was completely clean. Something told him to look past it all, though. Something told him to look way into his social life.

He turned away from the special police computer and took out his own personal one. He quickly hacked into Kyle's Facebook account and looked at his recent activities. What he saw made his blood run cold. "Kyle is no longer in a relationship." "Kyle is no longer friends with Stella Miller."

~L~

Okay! So that was my sad attempt at a murder mystery. I tried to make it absolutely OBVIOUS for you people, so I should hope to see a lot of right answers in all the reviews that you people ARE GOING to send me. :) Oh, and you not only have to tell me who killed BOTH people, but you also have to tell me how they both died. I mean, Stella is OBVIOUS. Kyle might be a bit trickier.

Well, good luck, you guys.

~Sugar