Abigail
"How much is the NYPD willing to pay for this kind of service?" Annette flashed a cheeky grin, her fingers dancing across the keyboard like lightning.
"Because my freelance rates just tripled after almost getting shot at a fancy gala. Hazard pay, baby."
"You didn't even attend the gala. You only arrived like ten minutes ago," one of the officers surrounding us chuckled. We were in one of the rooms attached to the hall.
Officer Robin in all his finite wisdom didn't want the crime scene left unattended to and so he insisted that instead of taking this issue to the police station, we would try to sort it out here because we were Sherlock Holmes.
Annie glanced at me, her eyes softening. I sat next to her behind the table where her laptop rested as she tinkered with the device and one of the cameras from the hall.
