Adel von Gideon rubbed her temples tiredly. This whole murdering business was taking a toll on her. After she left Mercer and Greene, promising to contact them if anything came up, she'd return to her office in Harlan Academy's first block, hoping for an afternoon of R&R.
To her dismay, waiting outside in a nervous queue, were a long line of students ready to receive some counselling, and in that half an hour, put forth their theories on who could have possibly killed Carly Davidson. First in line was Marie Saunders, who was still sobbing loudly.
Sighing, Adel entered her office swiftly, deposited her coat on her chair and sat down. Her harried secretary, Hannah, immediately swooped down onto her and pressed a mug of hot coffee into her employer's hands. Adel accepted the cup gratefully.
'We're all in an uproar,' Hannah whispered to Adel. 'They say Carly Davidson was murdered brutally.' She gave a shiver. 'Poor girl. She was such a sweet thing.'
'Evidently, someone out there disagrees,' Adel muttered harshly, burning her mouth in her haste to gulp down the hot coffee. 'Any messages?'
Hannah shook her head, pulling a face. 'No. But Marie Saunders insists on being your first appointment today. I've already told her you have a lunch with Dr. Isaacs, but she--'
'--insisted,' Adel finished. 'Okay.' She inhaled. 'Send her in.'
Obeying, Hannah left the office, went into the lobby and ushered Marie Saunders inside. Adel forced herself to look calm, cool but sympathetic. 'I'm so sorry for your loss, Marie,' she murmured.
Marie glanced at her teacher-counselor. 'Oh, Miss von Gideon,' she cried. 'It was horrible! Utterly devastating!'
As she continued ranting about how she found the body of Carly Davidson, Adel found herself shaking her head. It was going to be a long day.
Valerie Munday took another huge gulp of beer. She closed her eyes, pulling a face at the bitterness, but she didn't stop. Didn't want to. All she wanted was to be drunk senseless.
'Come on,' said a voice. 'You're getting behind. Drink up. Forget your sorrows. He doesn't deserve you.' With a sneer.
Valerie copied the sneer. 'Yeah, he doesn't.' Took another gulp of beer to find that it was empty. Groaning, she threw it aside, and opened another can with a pop and a hiss. She downed the contents.
Earlier today she'd arrived a couple of days early from vacation to find her boyfriend, her long-time love, screwing an unknown woman. It was already bad to find out that the love of your life was sleeping with another on your bed, but to add insult to injury, that bitch just had to be her big sister, Sarah.
Valerie laughed bitterly. If someone had told her Xavier was unfaithful, she'd probably laughed at them. He was Mr. Nice Guy, Mr. Xavier After-College-And-Uni-We'll-Get-Married-Sweetheart-It'll-Be-Perfect Thomas. Ha! All lies.
She didn't remember how she stumbled out of her room like a drunk, not noticing where she was heading for until she found herself in a bar. She ordered a drink, but before she could wallow in her sorrow, a couple of hunks started hitting on her. Frustrated with the attention--she SO didn't need this tonight--she'd readily accepted the offer from a fellow patron who suggested that a walk would be useful.
Shrugging, Valerie agreed, and the patron led her to the roof of the Montero Building, situated couple of blocks from the bar. There, she spat out the whole incident to the patron, who insisted that she was not to blame.
Valerie held up her beer. 'To the suckiest man in the world!' she hollered into the night sky. The patron followed her toast, and beckoned to Valerie. 'What?' she slurred.
'Wanna see the view from the best seat in the house?' Without waiting for an answer, the patron led Valerie to the edge of the building, climbing over the metal railing. Now both of them were standing on a measly 12-inch ledge, their backs to the railing, hands gripping the metal bar behind them.
'What are we doing here?' Valerie said, turning to the patron as she felt her head swirl. She never got the chance. With a hard shove, Valerie Munday fell off the Montero Building, to drunk to react or scream. There was a sickening crunch as her body collided with the cement floor below. Things broke. Not the cement floor.
The patron climbed over the railing to safety, and gave a slow smile. 'I believe I can fly,' the patron drawled slowly, realizing the full irony of the sentence. The patron grinned. Goodbye, Valerie.