Chapter 37: Brew You Java a Plan?

Sebastian's POV

There's been another murder.

We descend onto the tarmac and my assistant Myra is there like a lieutenant ready to deliver a status report. Truth be told, comparing my steadfast assistant to a soldier manages to tug me out of my brooding.

Aside: though I'll call anyone a liar if Gigi ever catches wind of this, but my sister is absolutely right. It isn't sometimes, might, maybe. I brood and I know it.

Myra is bundled in an ankle length puffer coat, knitted hat, and thick wool scarf so the tip of her nose and horn-rimmed glasses are almost all you can see of her under the layers. It's only November, but as Myra likes to remind me she's from Florida. Her blood is thinner.

As our group deplanes, I grip Beatrice's hand tightly in my own.

Myra forgoes any pleasantries, "Another girl's been found dead. Human this time. Chief Tompkins wants you to report to the police station for a debrief."