Hello! I hope everyone had a good week.

So far, I'm pretty much annoyed to my wits end! But I won't bother you with my problems no longer!

Okay, sorry I didn't put the story up yesterday like I planned but this is the earliest I could.

I also started a forum and I would love it if you visited. Or, if you want, ask me and I'll make you a moderator cause I'll probably only check it like, once every two or three months.

So, enjoy the story!

(Paris 16, 22:48)

Halfway down the road, Brittany decided to dial back the person who had called her cellphone. She didn't know whether it was to give them a piece of her mind or because she was still pretty jittery. She had been shot at twice in the last 48 hours and all the dead bodies and the psycho killer on the loose weren't helping matters.

The phone rang three times before she got an answer. "Hello?"

"Jen, is that you?"

"Brittany! I called you and Eleanor and neither of you guys picked up. I was starting to get worried. I haven't heard from either you in three days!"

"We're on a case. And for Eleanor," she said, with the slightest bit of tension in her voice, "she doesn't pick up her cellphone for me either. I don't know why she bothers paying the bill on it."

Brittany took a sharp turn to the right to avoid a car backing up. "Can anyone drive here?"

Jeanette giggled. "I guess it's no different from here."

"Well it's not like I've gotten any time to enjoy my time here. I've been working nonstop since yesterday and I've been shot at twice!" She started explaining what had happened a few moments ago.

Her sister gasped. "I'm sorry, Brittany. I didn't know you were working or anything."

"It's not your fault. I should've put it on silent anyway."

"Well, what's the case that you're on," she asked excitedly. "Tell me everything."

"You know I can't. It's confidential."

"You can at least tell me who. I mean, it's not confidential it's been through the press already," she probed.

"Well, he's a notorious serial killer and his name starts with a 'P'."

Jeanette paused for a minute. "…Wait, are you talking about the Puppeteer?"

"You got me."

She screamed on the other and Brittany had to pull the phone from her ear. "Are you CRAZY!" There was a shuffling noise. "Why would Eleanor leave you alone to catch that psycho? You're going to be killed!"

Brittany hit a pothole hole causing her head to bump the side window. "If anything's going to kill me, it's going to be driving on these roads."

"I'm being completely serious. Just thinking about it gives me the chills," she said. "I can't stand the thought of you there alone. I'm coming down there."

"No," Brittany said firmly. "I don't want you in any danger. And besides," she said, "I will be home as soon as possible."

She heard Jeanette sigh on the other end. "Okay, Brittany. But be careful."

"I'll try," she said. "Was there another reason you called me earlier?"

There was a long moment of pause on the other end. "Well, I wanted some advice."

"Really? For what?"

"You see, there's this case that we got this request for an amusement park yesterday and I really want to go. But the others don't think it's safe for me too. I wanted to know if you think I shouldn't go either."

"Listen Jen, when it comes to ghost I definitely wouldn't go," she replied. "But, it's your passion and if it's something you want to do, go for it. You don't see me and Eleanor sitting behind desk after all the protest we got from you guys for wanting to take on this job, now do you?"

She giggled. "I remember that. So yeah, okay, I'm going," she said happily. "And remember, I'm rooting for you and Eleanor."

"Thanks Jen, I'll call you later," she said and hung up. Brittany felt refreshed after talking to her sister. Somehow, Jeanette always found some way to cheer her up. Even if she didn't really know she was doing so.

Brittany stopped her rental car in the front of the hotel. No officers were there so it seemed safe enough. She got out of the car, locking the door. The smell of food from the café made her sort of regretting not eating earlier, but she thought that an empty stomach was better for this kind of job.

She walked into the hotel, feeling that nice cozy feeling come over her. She remembered that she was here to drop off the box. She didn't have the key to it and she wanted to make sure no one got to it.

Walking up to the reception desk, a man in a gray suit and dark blonde hair siting on the seat across from it stood up and stopped her. Oh no, she thought. Is he the police?

Professionally, he held out his hand. "I am sorry for taking up your precious time," he said in a heavy French accent.

"Yes?" She said skeptically.

"Please, tell me what happened to Jack?" He asked quickly. "I hear he has been arrested?"

She crossed her arms defensively. "Why do you come to me with that question, and not the French police?"

"As an American citizen, you might have a different point of view," he said.

Brittany rolled her eyes. Apparently, everyone in France thought that the Americans were complete softies that would give in to their questions and requests. She wasn't going to let him think that at all.

"That's irrelevant," she said. Brittany needed answers from him and she planned on getting them. "Jack is a friend of yours?"

"I met him in New Orleans. I was on business securing some, construction contracts," he explained. "We worked together well."

"This was in 09?"

"Yes, a few months ago."

Something about his story she wasn't buying. Obviously, he wasn't going to give much about himself away to her. "Is that all you wanted to discuss?"

He shrugged. "I'd like to know if there's any way I could help him."

She shook her head. "I don't think so, but leave your business card just in case."

He nodded and took out his business card to hand to her. "Of course, here you go," he said.

She read the card out loud to. "Louis Carnot, construction entrepreneur."

"What is the basis for the accusations against Jack? Did they find any evidence against him?"

She smiled at him for a second. "They found the body of his mistress in his apartment. That sounds like a pretty strong lead, don't you think?"

"There were letters in his apartment," he said. "Were they ever retrieved?"

"Please ask the police. And why are you so interested in these letters?"

He shrugged. "It was the last think we talked about. I guess it stayed with me."

Brittany was tired of his questions and she herself not getting any answers from this guy. "I'm pressed for time," she said.

"I understand. Thanks for the conversation." Louis left without another word.

She stood there for a second, pondering over their conversation. I don't trust that guy. His questions about the documents make me wonder. And the whole New Orleans thing? Could it be an accident?

Returning to what she was doing, Brittany walked up to Pierre at his normal post at the desk. "Do you have a safe in here?

He nodded. "Yes, what did you want to store?"

"This little box," she said, handing him the item she had obtained at Jacks apartments. "It's really valuable and I don't want to risk keeping it in my room."

"Yes, I've noticed it is quite an old and pretty item."

"I guess you can say it's sort of a family heirloom."

"Well, if you're ever interested in antiques, I know someone on the field…"

"Thanks but no thanks," she said. "And I might be needing the box back in a little while."

He nodded. "No problem. Any time you want."

She headed upstairs for a quick change. A few moments afterward, she sat down to think about where she should go next. She remembered her conversation with the inspector The girl who had died was from the Moulin Rouge. Maybe if she went there, she'd find something.

(Paris 16, 23:29)

The building as on the corner of Montmartre. It was dark besides the sign lit up on the top of the building. People stood at the other end of the street waiting for the bus. In a way, she still felt alone.

Brittany took a deep breath and decided that that feeling would just have to go away. She couldn't waste any time just standing around.

She walked up to the entrance. Above the glass doors was the name Feerie. Brittany knew all about this place. She had written a report on it when she was younger. This is where some of the most famous paintings were first created and France's most memorable dancers were here. It was too bad the place was closed.

Brittany walked up to the door and tried it anyway. It wouldn't budge. She left and walked around the corner to the back. It was a dark and dirty ally. She walked up to the double wood doors. There too, were locked.

She sighed and stepped back. On the ground to her right was a large hatch, but there was a padlock on it. If I could break the padlock I'd be able to get in.

She walked through the ally way and saw an overturned wheelbarrow and a mountain of sawdust. On top was a long iron pipe. She picked up and walked back to the hatch quickly. She slipped the pipe into the padlock and broke it. At least my gym training paid off.

She tried to pull the hatch open again but it was beyond heavy. She saw there was a rope on the wheel right above it. She rapped the rope over the around the handle and tried to pull on the other end. It was still to heavy. She needed something to weigh it down.

Not wanting to waste time, she went looking for something heavy enough. She saw that on the side of the building was a water conduit box. Opening it, there was a bucket inside under the faucet. The bottom of it was taped, but it seemed usable.

She turned the wheel and filled the bucket. Before she knew it, she had it hooked to the other end of the 'pulley'. She used the bucket to pull open the door and it worked.

Congratulating herself, Brittany went to the front of the hatch and looked in. There were steps leading down to a door. It seemed safe enough.

Making sure to take careful steps down, she started descending the stairs. There was a loud bang as she got to the door. Looking up, she saw that the hatch was closed. She tried to open it but it was too heavy.

"Great," she said sarcastically. "Well, I'm certainly not getting out this way."

She turned and went through the door. The back door, she saw was locked with a key, so she couldn't get out that way. Brittany walked to her right and on the walls were hundreds of colorful clothes and accessories. The door next to them was locked.

Under the stairs to the main stage on the other wall, there was a glass box. Inside was an ax. She couldn't help but think she needed an ax to open it.

She went to the door near the clothes again. She remembered that the still had the keys from Jack's apartment. She pulled them out and tried them on the door. The door unlocked with a loud click.

Finally, something's going my way. She walked into the small dressing room. There was a a dressing table with lights on the wall with the door and wigs and other accessories covered the shelves on all the other walls.

She walked to the other end where she saw a drawer under some boas. At the side, there were envelopes. There were from Mark Twain. Brittany gaped. There had to of been six letters in her hand. Why had he sent so many letters to Jack's girlfriend?

She stood up and looked back at the dressing table. The phone sitting on the end was flashing. There was a new message. She put it on speaker to play the message.

It was a man's voice. "Remember the Deal. He can't be allowed to find out anything. Get him to tell you all he knows and take from him the things he was talking about. Hurry up or I'll stop being nice. Be smart. I know you want to live."

"Oh no," she mumbled. Was this guy Mark Twain? Whoever it was had made a death threat on her life. This had to be connected to her murder. But she had no idea how to prove it.

Next to the phone was a medicine vile. Inside was what seemed to be medicine and something else. She opened it and pulled out a diamond ring and a necklace with a silver crucifix. There was also aspirin inside.

Quickly, she stuffed the items into her bag. She felt as though she needed to leave as soon as possible. On the floor was a mannequin arm. She picked it up and left the room. Brittany used it to break the axe bobs open.

Just as she pulled it open, a light came on from the top of the stairs and she heard voices. It was two males.

"Where is she," the first voice said.

"What's wrong," the second one said. "You don't like night clubs anymore?"

"I saw her go in, she must be hiding somewhere around here." Oh no, she thought. Someone's here looking for me!

"If you had killed her the first time, you'd now be sitting in front of a TV drinking a beer," his buddy responded.

"It was dark and… I tripped." So that was him! She thought to herself. He can't even admit that I outsmarted him. That jerk!

"So, you go downstairs, turn on the light and shoot her. Just don't fall down this time."

"That's my queue to disappear," she mumbled to her herself.

Brittany walked to the back door. It would take too long to break it down. In the corner there was and extinguisher on a trolley. She had the perfect idea.

Brittany rolled it to about a foot or two away from the door. It was facing the opposite direction. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the axe and brought it down over the valve of the extinguisher, breaking it open.

It made a loud swoosh sound as the air escaped. She took a step back and it took off, straight into the door, busting it open. She smiled and dropped the axe. As she ran at the door, she couldn't help but think she was too smart for them to catch.

Brittany ran around the building at hopped in her car and started to pull off. Mark Twain had something to do with this. And those guys, what did they have to do with the Puppeteer?

The feel of cold steel on the back of her head brought her out of her thoughts. "Keep driving."

Well, Brittany's in some trouble now, isnt she?

Who's Mark Twain and who's in the car. Why are those two guys nosing around and wanting to kill her. What's the Puppeteer up too?

All this and more coming up in the next chapter!