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THEY placed the letter inside their flat, keenly aware that others might see it and panic. The following day, after attending Sunday mass at the nearby church, situated two kilometres from their residence, they sent the letter to be tested by Dr. Samantha Ferrer’s staff, then they returned home by tricycle, the early morning sun heralding the start of another week.

As they approached their flat, they noticed a young girl playing alone within the metal fences, engrossed in a game of hopscotch. “Good morning, Ma’am! Good morning, Sir!” she greeted them with a bright smile. She was the daughter of the boarders living at No. 218A, a sweet child who held a particular fondness for Raine, despite Raine’s indifference towards children.

“Good morning, Agatha,” Zane greeted.

They were about to open the door to the left-side common room with their key when it swung open. The woman who opened it was Mrs. Nuñez, now preparing for church as well. “You two really do attend the first mass, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, Auntie. What about you?” Zane replied.

“Raine has been my companion for some time, but now I find myself going alone for weeks,” she answered after a moment’s thought.

“Oh, I— Raine didn’t mention that,” said Zane, surprised. “You didn’t tell me. I could have arranged to come a little later.”

The three finally entered the common room, and Zane hung his black folding umbrella on the hook by the front door.

“No need, dear. I was only joking,” she said, waving her hand, though a hint of seriousness lingered on her face.

“Then why do you seem upset?” Zane inquired.

“I went into your flat to check things again. I saw it covered with papers,” Mrs. Nuñez replied.

“Those are Raine’s papers. All those criminal cases that keep—” Zane began, only to be interrupted by Raine.

“Are you certain that’s the reason, Zane?” Raine asked.

“There were papers with images of bloody things I don’t even want to see. You’re sharing an apartment with another person, young man, and those images might trigger others, or perhaps if some of your students managed to enter your home and see them,” she admonished, leaving Zane silent. In her hand, she held the book he had borrowed, with several pages already folded.

“Ooh,” Raine gasped, as if she already knew what would happen next, then headed towards the stairs, pretending she wouldn’t see or hear it.

“I may be your aunt, but I am still your landlady. This book was meant to be returned weeks ago,” Mrs. Nuñez said. “I have been searching for it for days; I don’t like losing any of my books. You could have simply told me you had it and asked for an extension.”

“I… I am so sorry, Auntie,” Zane stammered, his heart racing with embarrassment. Glancing outside, he noticed the ten-year-old Agatha listening intently.

“I am deeply disappointed, young man,” Mrs. Nuñez said, taking the book with her as she entered the café on the right side of the building.

“Well now, Agatha. Do you see what happens when you misbehave?” Raine asked, shifting her body towards the two while halfway down the stairs.

“Don’t do what I did, Agatha. That’s bad,” Zane spoke, almost in a whisper. “Just please don’t do it or tell anyone I did that. Please.”

Agatha nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be good,” she replied before returning to her hopscotch.

“Just stay inside the fence. Don’t wander too far because there are lots of vehicles out there,” Zane said, attempting to brush off the situation she had just witnessed.

The two closed the door and ascended towards their flat, greeted by an open door—a woman dressed in pink and black sat on the long sofa. Her face was obscured by a hot pink cap, and she wore sunglasses and a black facemask.

“What—” Zane gasped at the sight of the woman, who turned her head towards them but remained seated, her back straightened without touching the back of the sofa.

“Mrs. Nuñez!” Raine called out loudly.

From the bottom of the building, Mrs. Nuñez replied, “What is it, dear? Others may still be sleeping.”

“Who is this woman? Why did you let her enter without our permission?” she demanded.

“She’s asking for help,” Mrs. Nuñez replied.

“Hello, who are you?” Zane asked, standing in front of the lady, his hands pushing against the back of his favourite sofa.

“Good morning. Why consult me? I’m not even a freelance sleuth anymore,” Raine replied, closing the door. “This is Professor Nuñez. You may consult him if you need help related to your health or physical condition.”

“Why won’t you just let us see your face?” Zane asked, recalling the lady in pink who had abducted him before.

“Fine then, I’ll give you a taste of what I can do,” Raine said, walking past the mysterious woman until she reached the corner of the long sofa, her eyes scanning the woman.

“You’ve eaten something with ketchup today, which is why part of your right finger has a reddish hue,” Raine began. “That silver necklace around your neck is delightful. It’s quite clever to wear something like that at a time like this.”

She squinted slightly, noticing the slight scuff on the toe of the woman’s heels. “That scuff suggests you’ve been walking quite a bit, possibly more than intended,” she added. “You might have been in a hurry, which implies you’re either late for something or perhaps trying to escape someone or something.”

She gestured towards the pink handbag, which the woman clutched tightly. “That bag—while stylish—looks a bit worn, indicating it’s your go-to. It likely carries more than just essentials; perhaps it’s filled with keepsakes or mementoes from your adventures,” she continued. “You like to hold onto memories, I suspect. Possibly quite an organized person.”

Raine’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “And that’s not all. I can see the subtle hints of perfume wafting in the air. It’s floral but not overly sweet,” she said. “You’ve dressed to impress today, acting mysterious to pique the interest of someone in this room.”

“Interest?” Zane beamed.

“It’s really her perfume that says it all. The others are merely façades to fool us,” Raine answered.

“Her perfume?” Zane asked. “What? Are you now an expert in women’s fragrances, too?”

“Her perfume confirms my observations, though it may pose a downside for you,” she replied.

“How so?” he asked.

Raine removed the woman’s cap, revealing her long hair tucked beneath it, and the woman followed suit by taking off her sunglasses and face mask. “Because you didn’t recognize it, and she was right about that,” Raine added.

“Andrea!” Zane beamed, gulping as his heart raced—uncertain of what to think. He still wasn’t sure if she was indeed the pink lady, whether she knew it, or if it was merely a coincidence.

“Mr. Nuñez,” Andrea replied with a smile.

“Why are you here?” Zane asked. “Why would you dress up like… that?”

“Why? I just wanted to visit you with a surprise,” she answered. “Did you like it?”

“More like Raine enjoyed it, but that was… amazing,” he replied. “Would you like some coffee? Biscuits?”

“Ms. Mercado, why won’t you just tell him the truth?” Raine said, remaining standing in front of the woman. The statement made both Zane and Andrea’s eyes widen.

“What truth?” Andrea asked. “What do you… What do you mean, Ms. De Verra?”

Raine began pacing towards the kitchen. “You wouldn’t put in so much effort just to come here, would you?” she asked.

“Raine, don’t force her to say anything. She’s not here as your client or anything,” Zane interjected.

“Well, alright. Before she shares her intentions, why don’t you tell her what you do, Mr. Nuñez,” Raine suggested.

“Yesterday, I had dinner with Raine, and we visited the museum. Just so you know, I wasn’t dating her or asking her out that night, in case you saw us together,” Zane explained. “I was planning to spend the evening with you but ended up accompanying Raine after you left.”

“Not that,” Raine muttered under her breath. “I meant, tell her what you actually do—as a teacher and a nurse,” she said, louder this time.

“What?”

“Oh, you know, the counselling and all that confidentiality business. People can trust you because of it, so there’s no need for concern,” Raine replied with a hint of sarcasm. “And besides that—what else?”

“Yes, Zane. What else?” Andrea chimed in.

“Well… I help Raine with some of her cases and, well, that sort of thing,” he replied, a touch uncertain.

“Exactly,” Andrea nodded.

“Why? Am I neglecting my duties?” he asked. “Does that bother you?”

“I don’t mind you two working together on these things. I’m just amazed—and, well, I rather feel like joining your team myself,” Andrea replied.

“My involvement’s technically off the record, and it’s only possible because Raine has close connections with the police,” Zane answered. “What could two civilians do, really? Cause more trouble?”

“Oh, heavens no!” Andrea said. “I could work remotely or even move into this building. I don’t need to be at the crime scene—I can still help by analysing photos or whatever leads you find.”

“Enough,” Raine said. “Discussing details of these cases is illegal; it could jeopardise the victims’ privacy and safety.”

“But it wouldn’t be, if the leads we find come from our own efforts—not from the police,” Andrea countered.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Mercado,” Raine replied sharply.

“It wouldn’t do much harm. At least, not while the murderer is still at large and the police haven’t released any findings,” Andrea insisted.

“Whoever is out there, stop lurking by the door and just come in,” Raine called out. The door opened, revealing the officer, formally dressed as if he, too, had just come from church.

“How did you know I was here before I even spoke?” George asked.

“The pacing of your footsteps and the distinct creak of the wooden staircase from a distance,” Raine replied. “You’re here for a reason, aren’t you?”

“I came to give a report, though I didn’t expect to find you with a new visitor,” George remarked.

“Then why not knock the moment you arrived?” Raine shot back.

“I was going to, but then I heard you discussing confidentiality and cases,” he replied. “And you’re right—about disclosing details. As for the serial killer, we’re doing everything we can to stop him for good.”

“Good morning, Inspector,” Andrea and Zane greeted in unison.

“Good morning,” he replied. “I’m not disturbing you three, am I?”

“Oh, not at all, Detective. I’ve already heard the response I needed,” Andrea replied with a smile.

“So, DI George Ferrer, what brings you here?” Raine asked.

“I have news, but it’s… rather personal,” he replied, his expression turning serious.

“Would you like me to step out?” Andrea offered.

“After we wrap up your session,” DI Ferrer responded.

“Well, I’ll be heading off now,” Andrea said. “Goodbye, everyone.”

“Inspector, please have a seat,” Raine instructed.

“Goodbye,” Andrea said, making her way to the door and closing it quietly in front of her.

DI Ferrer made his way to the long sofa and sat down.

“So, what’s the news?” Raine asked, waiting until Andrea’s footsteps faded down the staircase.

“The evidence points clearly to the husband as the one who killed the nurse,” DI Ferrer replied.

“Pardon me, but I’ve a question that might help,” Zane interjected. “Did you manage to conduct an interview? He went missing, didn’t he?”

“The last sighting of him was at their old home, seen by one of her friends who thought she might find her there,” the inspector responded.

“Where is he now?” Raine asked.

“Well, he was found dead three days after the murder,” DI Ferrer replied. “And, wouldn’t you know it, something rather important was missing from him as well.”