Grace couldn't believe it! The picture Basil sent was the exact way Stella saw Tomas through the window. The blurry silhouette, the soft golden glow. But how? Grace rushed to Basil's house like a cat rushing for a treat. She had to know what he had figured out, and why was he being so annoyingly cryptic about it? Honestly, Grace hated this side of him, always being so.... Thematic with cases as if people weren't dying, how he treats the dead like a show or a present and not as a human being. But that's beside the point. Arriving at the Bakery, she saw Basil already waiting outside, his hands in his coat pockets and his legs crossed as he leaned against the wall.

  Hopping out the cabbie, she walked towards the man child asking for answers. "So.... Care to explain?" She said as she looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

  "Ah, Grace. I see that your little fight with that lady has been resolved." He said, turning away from Grace and walking away.

  Grace followed, "where are you going now?!" She said as she grabbed onto his arm. "Tell me what you found out about the picture."

  Hearing this, Basil turned his head in amazement, not the good kind. "What do you mean? I thought it was self-explanatory...." He said, his tone hinting at his skepticism at Grace's intellect.

  "Ok well, not everyone is Mr wannabe Sherlock." Said with her arms crossed, as if looking down at him despite being a whole head shorter, "so come on, spit it out."

  Sighing, Basil continued walking. "The silhouette that Stella saw was the real Tomas, the dead one. And the one she saw "alive" was a fake, most likely the killer."

  Grace blinked. "And you're basing that on... what, exactly?"

  "Well, Tomas died at his desk, and on that desk had a melted candle. Seeing how there's no dust around the candle or cracks, it's safe to say that the candle was lit recently. Stella stated that the last time she saw him was a silhouette of him in the windows, working. Notice how she said silhouette and not anything else? This means she never really got to see Tomas living, meaning, that Tomas was the real one, the dead one"

  "And the Tomas she saw when she walked in the garage?"

  "That's a fake. Stella said that the garage was awfully dark despite it having eight lights; that's not something people do on accident. The killer most likely killed Tomas but didn't know Stella would come. So he dressed up like him and used the dim lighting to his advantage to trick Stella." Basil continued.

  Grace followed Basil, thinking about what he said, "Where is the evidence?" She asked. She's fully aware how accurate Basil's deductions can, but with no proof, the deduction is only a theory.

  "Also, did Stella say that she heard hammering sounds coming from Tomas' wok station when she was about to leave? How could that be if Tomas was dead?" Grace asked.

  "Brilliant question my dear Grace, that is an issue in my theory. But I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually." He said with a smile on his face, "right now, we have two things we must do."

  "Oh? And what's that?" Grace said, "and where the hell are you taking me?!"

  As soon as those words left Grace's mouth, they stopped in front of a massive parking lot. The parking lot wasn't very big. It wasn't in front of a restaurant or a grocery store, it was one of those solo parking lots where you pay to park your car.

  "We must find what happened to the bin, and we must find the motive." Basil said, "The motive is simple, seeing how uncreative killer tend to be, I suspect it may have something to do with Tomas' missing child." He said as he walked in the parking lot.

  Grace followed, taking note of how empty the place was. Though it was expected, after all not many people pay for parking lots when they could just go to a free one, this one was still awfully empty. "Hey Basil!" She called out, "didn't Stella say that there was a van here? We should figure out where that van is."

  "Brilliant idea!" He cried, "you do that!"

  "Why me!?"

  "Because you're a strong, independent woman!!"

  She groaned and walked toward the small booth near the entrance, flashing her badge. "This is a murder investigation," she said plainly. "I need a list of everyone who paid for parking here."

  The attendant, a middle-aged man who looked like life had thoroughly defeated him, handed her a thick binder without a word and promptly nodded off. The loud thud of his head hitting the desk made Grace jump.

  She stared for a moment. "...Huh."

  Usually, there were questions. Complaints. Demands for warrants. She wasn't about to argue.

  She flipped through the binder slowly. Page after page of emptiness. Only three vehicles are paid monthly. No van. No useful leads.

  While Grace was searching (and failing) for clues, Basil wandered curiously around the parking lot. He knew that Stella was a prideful person, seeing how she presents herself, she probably don't want to be seen pushing a dirty bin around at night. This would naturally mean Stella most likely left the bin near the entrance rather than deep within the parking space. Looking at the tiny specs of dirt trails, Basil could tell that the van wasn't the only car there that night, there should be at least one other car parked here, "so then what made the van stand out?" Basil thought.

  Stolen story; please report.

  As he stood and thought, Grace generally tapped his shoulder. "No use, their logs are basically empty." She said.

  "Not surprising, seeing how run down this place looks, and see how much the staff cares about his job, it's not hard to sneak a car in here for a few minutes." He replied, spinning in circles.

  But then, something caught Basil's eye. A slightly sparklingly object was lying on the floor just a few meters away from Basil. Then Basil sniffed the air. "Grace do you smell that?" He said as he inched towards the sparkling object.

  "Hm? Smell what?" She said, also sniffing the air, "I don't smell anything."

  But Basil could, he smells something. Getting on all fours, he stared at the sparkling object intensely, "fishy smell.... This is a fish scale." He said as he picked it up.

  "BASIL- ugh... too late." Grace said in horror because accepting fate.

  "What?"

  "I was gonna say to use gloves.... Wouldn't that be useful?"

  Basil blinked at the scale a few times before shrugging, "too late now." He said in a careless tone.

  "Yeah, I can see that."

  Regardless, it was strange. Why would there be a fish scale here? Why does this one specific parking spot smell fishy.... Literally. Basil sat down and began to think.

  "If the parking lot is usually empty, this means not a lot of cars would be here unless it's for very short periods of time. This one parking spot is near the entrance, and only this place smells like this...." Basil said.... Well, more like muttered to himself.

  Grace tilted her head as she watched. She wondered why Basil was focusing on something so insignificant. It was then did she remembered what Basil said on their first case.

  "Everything is worth noting. Clues are like the missing pages of a story; you keep even the tiniest detail, or the whole story may not make sense."

  She smiled as she looked at Basil. Perhaps this is why he's always buried in deductions; he focuses on very little detail. She slowly crouched down, patting Basil's head like a kitty and looked at him in the eyes, "let's call it a day hm?" She said gently, "you calm your mind a bit."

  Basil looked at her, eyes blank like paper. How could this be the same Grace who challenges him every second she gets? "Such gentle expressions..." he thought to himself

  Grace chuckled, enjoying the sight of Basil's surprise. She stood, looking down at Basil, "It's getting quite late, let's get dinner." She said.

  "Uh huh...."

  "So, what do you wanna eat?"

  "Uh huh..."

  "Hello? Anyone there?" She said, waving her hand in front of his face.

  "Uh huh...."

  "Pfft" she laughed.

  .

  .

  .

  The two of them sat opposite of each other at Basil's home. They, as in Grace, cleared up the coffee table full of papers and documents and pictures and.... Well, whatever other stuff Basil had on there. The coffee table itself has a glow up, hidden under all that garbage was a beautiful, smooth wooden table. In front of them were two plates of food, prepared by Grace and the help of Ms Anderson, the old lady at the Bakery. There were some mashed potatoes, a few cuts of ham and stake, and some vegetables.

  Unfortunately, Basil was forbidden to step foot in the kitchen; despite being a genius in many things, he knew little to nothing about food, failing to even toast some bread. But he wasn't complaining. He sat in his seat immediately, completely confused, it had all happened too fast. First they were at a parking lot, now, he's in his home eating dinner with Grace.

  "So," Grace said, "shall we eat?"

  "Uhh... y-yes! Absolutely." Basil said. His voice had a hint of caution, as if something was gonna jump out his food.

  But it never did.

  Basil's face lit up as soon as the food touched his lips. It was savory, it was warm, it was.... May he say it, good. He couldn't believe that a woman like Grace could cook such good food, but it wasn't surprising. After all he knew that Grace most likely developed some culinary skills, just not to this degree.

  "So? How is it?" Grace asked with anticipation.

  "It's....." Basil wanted to compliment the cooking, he wanted to say it's delicious. But this feeling is foreign, so he must remain calm.... "Ok...."

  Total lie. Grace could tell. After working with Basil for some time, she picked up a few things from Basil, as well as learned a lot of tricks. She noticed that Basil looked down, indicating embarrassment, then his eyes quickly sifted upwards to the right, indicating lying.

  "Liar~" Grace said with a sly look, "you always look at people's eyes when they are lying, your eyes shifted upwards to the right... that means the person is lying right?" She said, twirling her finger at Basil.

  Basil's eye's narrowed as he took a bite, "you evil woman. You dare use my own tactics against me?"

  Suddenly, Ms Anderson popped her head through the door, watching these two young folks act like high school crushes, "Now now, Basil dear, that's no way to speak to a lady." She said.

  "Oh shut up, Ms Anderson."

  The night was full of laughter. Despite Basil's initial caution, he softened up after Grace forced him to drink. Basil drank quite a bit that night, though he wasn't much of a drinker, far from it, he still drunk half the bottle due to Grace's persistence.

  As the night went on, Grace shifted her attention to Basil's evidence board, it seemed like it had gotten more messier then last time, more chaotic. "Have you found anything about Q?" Grace asked him.

  Despite Basil being absolutely drunk, his mind seemed to be working just fine, at least when discussing about mysteries. "Q is, well... a man who you don't want to stand against. It seems like this wasn't the first time he had killed."

  "So he's a serial killer?" Grace asked. She thought that if it were a serial killer, then it wouldn't be an issue.

  "No, not a killer, but a criminal."

  "What's the difference?"

  Basil sat up straight, putting his cup down, he looked a bit more serious now, "a killer is a person who is defined by one thing. Killing. This means they have a pattern, a signature, and often, an extremely uncreative. But Q is not a killer but a criminal." Basil stated, his tone steady as he stared at his plate.

  He continued, "A criminal is someone who is defined by many things: a politician, a killer, a thief, a master mind. And Q, he's like the mastermind of masterminds. He's like Napoleon of Napoleon went into crime." He said, "he's dangerous not because he has influence or power, but because he hides his flaws flawlessly."

  Grace slowly sipped at her drink, listening intently. A criminal like Q should be locked up immediately, and yet he's not. And to think that Q may be after Basil is... concerning to say the least.

  "But there was one thing that I noticed," Basil said, his eye finally looking at Grace.

  "And what's that?"

  Basil stared at her intensely, the same look he gives when he's figured out a murder, that sharp, cold, lifeless stare that tears through every bit of the human body, "you're....." he said, "pretty..."

  BLAM!

  Basil's face slammed into the table. His face was red from the alcohol, and his body limped. Grace smiled, standing up and helping Basil onto his couch, she looked at the man sleeping like a child. "Looks like the alcohol finally got him..." she said softly before going back to her seat.

  "You're pretty...."

  Her face started to heat up; she had heard this many times in her life, so why now?

  "Idiot."