CHAPTER 1

Alice had been wrong, for once in her life.

Francis was still there, six months, eight days and three hours later from his first day and there were only two reasons for that, essentially.

One: the pay was great (As he later discovered), and two: He, the womanizer of Paris, found himself completely head-over-heels for Alice Kirkland and all her mostly-bitter-than-sweet-bitter-sweetness.

He decided to take up baking (since it was cheaper than fast food) and found that he was actually really good at it. He brought a different sweet to Alice every single day, despite her protests and violent swearing. It was so worth it to see the furious blush that refused to leave her face for a good three hours.

No one had ever stayed past three months, or had been so friendly or so...determined. He was good at running, Alice found out after watching an angry, drunken father chase Francis for flirting with his daughter. And it was in his nature to flirt. And it ran so deep inside him that he didn't even realize it happening.

The most irritating thing about his habits was Alice finding herself at the jail more often than not.

She didn't stop giving him lots of work (Who knows how long it would be until she got another assistant after Francis left?), but she always made sure he hauled his Froggy-ass back home before 8:30pm.

And then...And then Alice made a big mistake.

It was a stupid mistake and for God's sake, she was an adult! She shouldn't be feeling like some sort of bloody teenager that just hit puberty! But she was.

She, Alice Bloody Fucking Kirkland, found herself falling in love.

And not just with anyone, but an employee. A French employee, at that.

It went against all of her morals.

She promised she wouldn't put herself in harm's way again after her last failed relationship. She didn't want to feel that way again and falling in love with a womanizer was practically begging for it to happen.

The phone rang. "Hello?"

"Is this Detective Kirkland speaking?"

Alice groaned. "What now, Alfred?"

"What?!" Alfred gasped, "Man, I even used my 'fancy' voice!"

"Yes, and it's still terrible." Alice snorted. "Seriously, what is it?"

"We got another case." Alfred stopped joking around. "Blackwater manor, downtown London. 54Th street."

"Got it." Alice mumbled into the phone. "I'm heading over right now." Alice hung up quickly, scrambling to assemble her tools. "Frog, we got another one!" She said, stuffing her tools into her bag.

"Coming!"

"Move it!" Alice yelled, dashing out of her office. "And grab my tea!"

Damn that beautiful slave-driver. Francis cursed his soft heart and rushed into Alice's office and grabbed her tall canteen of her weird 'Earl Grey-rum-cream-spoonful of honey' mixture.

XXX

Wednesday 6:57am, Blackwater manor on 54th street.

Blackwater manor wasn't nearly as gloomy as the name implied, Alice noted as the cab driver pulled into the driveway.

It was a two-story red brick mansion with wide windows and a surrounding hedge of yellow roses and a pond of dark brown water in the middle of the semi-circle driveway. It was simple. Plain. Homely and maybe a bit dull. "That's what makes it so eerie," Alice muttered to herself. A plain little manor in downtown London with dark secrets. With murder.

"Come pick us up in five hours," Alice gave the driver some money.

"'Bout time ya showed up!" Alfred met them at the door, his arms crossed and his face pale.

"Alfred, what do we got?" Alice and Francis met him at the manor door.

"Isabelle Blackwater, 19, female." Alfred led them through the manor. "Her best friend and grandmother found her body this morning. We called her twin sister, Valerie, so she should be here by tomorrow morning."

Alice heard Francis swear under his breath.

She stopped on the stairs. "Give me the bag and wait for me here." Alice held her hand out at Francis. "You don't need to see this. It's not really part of your job, anyway."

"I'll never get any experience if I don't get a chance," Francis whispered back to her. "And I'm your assistant. It's my job to be by your side, non?"

"...Are you sure you can handle it?" Alice nearly slapped herself for accidentally letting her emotions sink through.

"Oui," Francis gave her a reassuring smile. "Merci, pour préoccupante, votre Majesté."

Her face flushed bright red. "Shut up, Frog. I just don't want you vomiting all over the evidence."

"Oui, oui." Francis smirked. "Votre Majesté~!"

Before Alice could retort, Alfred beat her to it. "Yo, lovebirds, you're cute an' all an' I'm gonna let you finish, but we got a job to do."

"Shut up." Alice and Francis growled.

Isabelle's room was so...pale.

It had tan carpet, white furniture and pale blush bedding and wallpaper. At least, that's what Alice imagined it was like before... Before the blood.

Isabelle's body lay on her bed, naked and... gutted. Her organs were tossed about everywhere in the room. The liver on the nightstand, the kidneys on the window seal, the intestines draped on the ceiling fan, the lungs shredded in pieces and scattered across the carpet. The walls were smeared with bloody hand-prints, a struggle.

"Francis..." She choked out, but managed to keep her voice steady. "Gloves." Wordlessly, he handed her the gloves.

Alice slipped them on and moved closer to Isabelle's body. Green eyes, frozen in terror, blonde hair drenched in her own blood. The letter 'I' had been carved by a knife into her forehead. "May your soul rest in peace." Alice closed the girl's eyelids with a silent promise...A promise to avenge her. To bring her and her family justice.

Just like her father had always done. He always kept his promises.

Except for one.

Alice's eyes trailed down to her stomach. Only one thing lied inside: a disconnected heart with a knife stabbed in the middle. She nearly gasped. She'd seen that knife insignia before. If He was involved, this could get a lot more dangerous than it already was. She needed to make a call. Alice's hand reached down and tugged out the knife. "I need a bag,"

Francis rushed over, his face paler than ever.

Alice frowned. This wasn't unusual, per se. Everyone hated being this close to death. It made you reevaluate everything. Your life, your choices, your family, everything. Suddenly, death wasn't just something that happened to other people. It happened to everyone. It would happen to you, too.

She slipped the knife into the bag. "Francis," Alice took another look at the pale Frenchman. "I want you to go back to the office and do some research on the Blackwater family. All right?"

He nodded mutely before fleeing the room.

Alfred sighed. "Poor guy."

"We were the same way, Al." Alice started to search through the drawers. Looking for anything, a diary, a note, a picture, anything. "Remember?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah," he paused for a minute. "Are you going to be okay here by yourself? I need to go speak to Isabelle's friend and her grandma."

"Al, I'm fine." Alice snorted, looking up at him finally. "This isn't my first case."

"This one's different. I can tell." Alfred said. "You freaked out when you saw the knife earlier. What is it?"

Alice couldn't tell him. She trusted Alfred, of course she did. She just didn't trust what He would do if he found out about her breaking her promise. "I've seen the insignia before. One of my dad's cases." That wasn't a lie. Her father didn't have a wonderful relationship with His father and her father had been fairly familiar with His father's...antics.

Alfred gave her one last look. "See ya at the office." He left. Alfred knew that she hadn't told him the whole truth. That was okay, he'd forgive her soon enough. He always did.

Alice sighed, looking at the bag in her hands again. "What the fuck did this girl get herself into?"

XXX

Alfred met them up later in Alice's office.

"Yo, dude! Dudette!" He grinned at them, probably sensing that they were in the dire need of an icebreaker.

"What do you have, Al?" Alice spared the American a wary glance.

"Well, one: Isabelle's grandma is bat-shit crazy, 'kay?" Alfred whined, "Two: I got some ideas on who the killer might be."

Alice's head shot up. "Who?"

"Isabelle's fiancé and her two friends." Alfred sunk into Alice's chair. "Her friend, Amanda Clyde was the last one to see Isabelle alive-"

"Unlikely." Alice interrupted. "There was fifteen other people in the house, and how easy do you think it is to kill someone with fifteen other people in the house? Or to do the job and not get a speck of blood on you?"

She decided not to go any further after seeing Francis' expression. She didn't need any vomit on her carpet.

"Right," Alfred shrugged. "Just keeping the options open. Next is her fiancé, Michael Phillips and her friend, Lilly Brentwood. They disappeared last night."

Alice straightened. "Now, that is interesting."

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, but I only know that Lilly sneaked away last night and Michael's friends said that they hadn't seen him since last week."

"Michael Clyde?" Alice's head shot up. "May Clyde's grandson? The spoiled one that we found skinny dipping in that near the museum fountain?"

"Same pale bastard." Alfred nodded.

Alice frowned. "I'll visit the Clyde mansion tomorrow."

"Valerie Blackwater called," Francis re-entered the office. The two hadn't even noticed him leaving. "She'll meet you tomorrow, 11am at ze Trèfle Café."

Alice nodded. "Got it." She glanced down at her watch. "You two should head home, it's getting late."

"What about you?" Francis asked.

"I'm going to stay behind a bit." Alice said, "I'm going to spend some time in the lab and look at the evidence. Oh, and Francis?"

"Oui?"

"Don't come in for work tomorrow." She said, "Take the day off. You're in no shape to work."

Francis smiled at Alice, grateful. "Oui, I'll do zat. Merci, votre Majesté."

Translations:

Oui = Yes

Merci, pour préoccupante, votre Majesté = Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty

Votre Majesté = Your Majesty

Trèfle Café = Clover Café

Merci, votre Majesté = Thank you, Your Majesty