Oliver
When Camile returns from inside the station, she’s all smiles. “I’m going to be very busy,” she says. “I hope you’re okay fending for yourself, Oliver.”
I cross my arms. “Your meeting went well?”
“It went great,” she tells me. “I have a murder to solve.”
She looks over at me and shakes her head. “It sure beats the alternative.”
Camile doesn’t need to work, so I wonder if she’s bored with her life, too. “What’s the alternative?”
She glances out the window at the surrounding buildings with a vague disinterest before looking back at me. “Committing one.”
“You don’t look like the type,” I say in disbelief. “Besides, you’re too smart for that.”
I’m hoping she’ll offer some reassurance, because that cutting stare of hers is rather off-putting. But she doesn’t. A sinister smile cra
