A/N: I do not own X-Men Evolution

A scowl soured Rogue's porcelain face. Arms folded, discontented line in her mouth, she observed Remy prod around 'the body'. He reached down, poking the Prof in the chest a couple of times.

"Don't do that!" Rogue swatted his hand away. "He's not actually dead!"

Remy chuckled at her irritated state. "Non, but Remy thinks he is sleeping." Angry red blush rose in her cheeks- he laughed all the more. She rolled her eyes.

"So what do you see Sherlock?" Black gloved hands planted themselves on her narrow hips.

"Bullet wounds- but no holes." He said, pretending to thoroughly examine the pretend corpse.

"Oh ha-ha." Rogue shoved him out of the way. She looked from the Professor to the table, then back. From the inside pocket, the corner of a tiny, grayish scrap of paper poked out. Gingerly, she slid the page from the professor's still body.

Well done Rogue.

"Mehhh," she jumped when she heard the Professor's voice in her head. "You're supposed to be dead." She hissed.

You said it yourself, it's only pretend. Almost unnoticeably, he smiled- just a tiny bit at the corners of his lips.

Remy stared at her for a moment after her strange outburst.

"He's not asleep," she muttered. Back to the paper- messy jagged letters etched the thick stationary. A tattered, torn edge lined the top, making a diagonal line. It read simply: 6 13 15 4 2

Remy sighed. "Sounds like a good enough place to start," he started up the stairs.

"How do we even know what room is important?" she whisper hissed, trampling up the stairs behind him.

He turned for a moment to face her, a knowing smile on his face. "Trust Remy, I know dis clue."

"Don't bet your life on it," she muttered. A frown overtook his smirk. "It's just a bunch of numbers. It could mean anything!" Her skeptical look turned defensive.

"Chere, if dis is ever gonna work, we gotta act like a team," His eyebrows rose. "What do you say?"

Elsewhere

Red tassels shifted with her every move; she chewed her scarlet lower lip. Pages, bios for the cast of mutant teens crunched in her palms: Jubilee, a jazz singer, Bobby, a kid working on the docks and amateur boxer (Kitty rolled her eyes at that one); herself, a flapper and reasonably well behaved party girl. Then there was Remy, a dealer at a local speak easy, Piotr, an aspiring artist, Rogue, a high class heiress. Nothing really out of the ordinary.

"Hmmm…" Kitty pursed her lips, flipping through a little faster. "This isn't helping very much."

Head tilted to the side, Piotr glanced over another few sheets. "The Professor," his brow furrowed. "He was a retired undercover detective," he slid Kitty the bio.

She studied the sheet. "Retired detective, art collector, rumored gambler," she murmured. Isn't that a little hypocritical?

"Perhaps it would help to look at who has a motive?"

A small smile tugged at the edges of her lips. she flicked through the papers, pulling out the potentially shady figures. "Bobby, who also has a gambling problem, is known to cheat, and doesn't do well with losing."

"Revenge for a bad deal," Pete nodded.

"Remy, the dealer." She set the paper down.

"Highly doubtful," Pete smirked. "Remy has trouble not bragging about his criminal conquests."

Snickers rattled her chest- he did have a point. "Tabby, who did quite a bit of time for thievery- currently a bar tender." She flipped through a few more pages. A frown came to her face. "Scott, a wealthy New Yorker and polo player. Rumored to own or have stake in a speak easy." She yanked out the next page. "Jean Grey- wealthy socialite, aspiring actress. Rumored to be having an affair (possibly engaged to Scott Summers)."

Piotr nodded. "All very possible candidates," he glanced over the pages in front of him. "So where would you like to start?"

She sighed. "We'll try Bobby," She pulled at her tights. "To rule him out first," it was highly doubtful Bobby would be smart (or quiet) enough to be the killer. He would have gone running his mouth the second he found out he got to commit murder; but just in case by some miracle he did, they had to check it out- and besides, she had a gut feeling about this, and, as a girl, she had to go with her instinct.

"Bobby it is," he swept a chocolate piece of hair behind her ear. Swoon. Her heart rate tripled as his hand retracted. His warm smile made her insides melt a little bit. Blush filled her crème cheeks.

"So like," She let out a nervous giggle, "To Bobby's room?" She jesked out from the library table.

"To Bobby's room."

A/N: Hello everyone=) just thought i ought to mention that I do not have any experience in writing mysteries- so that element of the story: probably not going to be so great. That being said, I still hope you are enjoying it! please review!