Page 61 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

“There was a gas leak sometime this weekend,” Marlowe says, wiping her nose with her whole arm. “That’s what the firefighters said.”

A gas leak. If Claudia was suffocating on gas, she probablycouldn’thave been more specific in her text. It probably took all her energy just to get those two words out.

Impossibly, I feel even worse knowing that.

“They said the whole house could’ve blown up if she’d even switched alighton, but she must’ve been asleep, so she asphyxiated instead,” Marlowe says.

“The firefighterssaidthis to you?” I say, horrified.

She shakes her head angrily. “I’m really good at lipreading.”

Suddenly she tackles me with a hug and starts sobbing.

Sometimes I forget, but Marlowe’s just akid. And this kid deserved to have her Claudia around for a lot longer. I pet her streaky pink hair. This is bigger than me and my guilt. There are consequences to murder. You can’t kill a niceish old lady, make a scary tween cry, and get away with it. Not on my watch.

“Do you want me to walk you to class?” I say. “I’m going to call out for the rest of the day anyway.”

“Why?”

“I, uh, have some errands to run,” I say, looking very innocent.

She lasers in on me. “I’m coming with you.”

Shit.

“What? No. I’m going to, uh, make those dog videos we talked about.”

“No you aren’t. You think this was murder. You’re going to investigate.”

Okay,canshe read my mind? How does she know that?

Marlowe fiddles with her phone for a second. “Claudia wants me to help you solve the case,” Marlowe says. “Avenge her death, et cetera.”

Okay I’m sorry,what?

“See?” Marlowe thrusts the phone in my face. Sure enough, it’s a text from Claudia, from Sunday night. Marlowe frowns. “I’m just not totally sure what the second half means yet.”

Claudia:Hells no apple the cat invite affluent odor

Oh good lord.

“Okay, so this is all incredibly awful and traumatic, but Marlowe...” I put a hand on her shoulder, “that is definitely the gas leak speaking.”

She narrows her eyes at me, no doubt coming up with some devastating insult. “And,” I continue quickly, “even if itwasn’t, you can’t investigate with me. I draw the line at a kid sidekick. School. Now.”

The first bell rings, right on cue.

She folds her arms over her chest and juts her chin out. “You need me.”

“I do not.”

Actually, I definitely do.

She holds her phone out again. “Too late, things are already in motion.”

There’s a sound file on-screen. Marlowe presses play. A woman’s voice says: “Hey, Sue, it’s Shoshanna Golden. Marlowe woke up with a fever today, so we’re keeping her home—”

Marlowe presses stop. “Gonna deploy one of my deepfakes,” she says.