Help! I woke up a detective and I don't know shit.

"Cordelia Cupp is dead."

A notebook is handed to me. Her notebook. It's filled with drawings of people and birds. Mostly birds.

Does he want me to make sense of this? Where am I? Okay, okay, deep breaths. I am in a room... Probably the blue room in the White House because the room is completely blue. There are three other people in the room with me. I am... I am... Who am I?

I glance at my reflection in the mirror above the sofa.

"Good idea, really take the room from a different perspective," Special Agent Edwin Park nods.

I stare at my face. It is my face but also it's not. I'm decked out in stereotypical detective clothes. Hat included. And, a pipe. I take a deep puff to calm my nerves. The effect is instantaneous. Whatever's in the pipe is strong.

Beyond my face, there is the rest of the room. Cordelia's boots peek out from behind the ugly couch on the left hand side. Her boots are worn down. Both laces are tied tightly.

"Are the doors locked?" I ask, indicating to the closed doorways.

"Yes," Special Agent Edwin is firm in his answer. He gives me a strange look, "None of us can leave the room until this is solved."

"You're literally the one who made this command," pipes up Lilly Schumacher, "Like not even five minutes ago."

"Are you okay, Detective Raine?" Asks Jasmine Haney.

Oh crap, so I am a detective then. The detective, apparently. The other one is dead. All four of them look at me expectantly. On impulse, I jam my hands into my coat pockets. If I am a great detective like everyone here thinks, there's probably something in my coat...

Yes, there we go!

I pull out a nice leather-bound notepad. To my dismay, it's entirely empty.

It's seems embarrassing to flip to the first page, so I open somewhere in the middle and pretend to jot something important. It's my own name. I'm not sure if it's spelled Raine or Rain. Or maybe it's Rayne?

"Raine?" Edwin persists.

"Uh, yeah, I'm good. I'm good," I scan the room.

Okay, it's just like an escape room. Calm down. You've participated in an escape room before. I turn my head slowly, trying to notice something out of place. All I can see are Cordelia's boots. I should probably check her body, but no part of me wants to see a dead body, let alone inspect it up close.

Special Agent Edwin shoves me forward before I can contest. I stumble forward. The edge of my boot hits her floppy arm. It takes all my will not to shudder. I bend down.

Something about the body looks too smooth. I trace my eyes over her face, scanning for who knows what. There's a flake of fish by her swollen lips. No, worse. There's a puddle of vomit or some weird foam stuck to her cheek. Bile rises hot and fast. I swallow it back.

"Check her pockets," whispers Edwin.

"You check her pockets!" I snap, standing upright.

Everyone stares at me in confusion.

"But... You're the detective," Lilly reminds me.

Damn it. I can't think of a reason to argue.

I kneel this time, close enough for my knees to press against the side of her torso. She's still, horrifyingly, warm. Her flesh is soft. My entire body recoils. It takes me a second to compose myself. Everyone watches. I don't know what I expected, but it isn't this. I feel for her heartbeat... Just in case.

My hands move slowly over her body, searching for the opening of her pockets. This is violating. I look to Edwin. Can't he help me? He's like her second hand.

"Did you find anything?" He tries to be encouraging, but I see him stepping as far away as he can.

I sway my hand left and right in her pocket.

"No," my nails pick up loose crumbs.

"Okay... Her arms," Edwin directs. I could just kick him, I am so grossed out.

I roll up her sleeves. Her skin is soft and smooth. A whimper escapes against my will.

"Are you okay?" Jasmine asks but it sounds judgy.

"Yeah. Yup," I clear my throat.

I trace her skin lightly, trying to be as quick as possible. It's virtually scarless, except for this random cut on her shoulder. It was hidden under all the layers of clothes. Also, her fingertips are covered in shallow papercuts.

I pull her sleeve back up. The smell of sardines wafts straight into the back of my skull. I can't help it. I retch. The puddle expands into a weird whitish grey river. The carpet eats it up.

"Okay... So that's tampering with evidence," Edwin tries to crack a joke. Or, he's being serious. I can't tell, really.

"What was she doing here?" I ask, wiping my face.

"Solving A.B's murder," Jasmine pipes up. Her voice is hard. Her eyes level as she gages me. Maybe she should be the detective.

"And also eating her sardines, like usual," Edwin chimes in tearfully.

He bends down to pick up a can from the floor. I didn't even notice that Cordelia was holding it in her hand. Just like I didn't notice the chunk of fish flesh behind her lips. Bless Edwin; he pulls it out from her mouth with a gloved hand. A long stringy trail of saliva follows and then plops on Cordelia's chin.

Half of the can is empty. The sardine piece in her mouth was only half-chewed. A fork lies sadly by his feet. My fingers smell fishy.

I jot it down: Rain? Raine? Rayne? Cordelia was hungry. She used a fork. Ate sardines. Door is locked. Chief Larry Dokes hasn't said anything. Lilly's wearing weird heeled shoes.

It's true. Her heels are way too clunky for the outfit. Also the shoes are way too practical, with low, sensible heels, and the black straps are jarring against her neon pink dress.

"Did you choose those shoes?" I ask.

Lilly looks perturbed.

"W-what?" She startles back, accidentally knocking down something from one of the side tables. It clatters silently onto the carpet.

"Your shoes," I look down at her feet.

"I... I had a little accident. My heel broke," she tries to smile but it doesn't reach her eyes, "I changed into the only other pair I had on hand."

"Hmm," I let my eyes wander down the wall behind her.

I notice the painting of an old, presumably important man. I walk towards it.

"Hey," Edwin calls out, "That's a knife."

I turn to see what he is pointing at, and it is in fact a knife. It could be the item that Lilly had accidentally knocked over. Also, there is blood on it.

"Someone definitely killed her," I say a little too offhandedly. I try to look like I'm thinking hard. I rub my chin, staring at the painting where I notice a strange indent, "That's weird..."

"What?" Chief Larry Doke asks eagerly.

At the same time, Jasmine goes, "There's no wound."

Larry Dokes, Edwin Park, Lilly Schumacher and Jasmine Haney all peer over the body. I stare at that painting, at that little indent. Something about it feels important.

I wonder whether I should mention the shoulder.

"Oh, there's a note!" Cries Lilly before I can say anything. 

Maybe there's a key behind the painting? I pull it off the wall to inspect it closer.

"The only flower in the room is the true harbinger of doom," Larry reads aloud. He scrunches his eyebrow.

"What flower? There isn't any flower!" Cries Edwin, but I pay him no mind.

The paint chips off weirdly. I dig my nail into the half-formed tear, worsening it. It takes a second before I can reach a finger into the back of the frame.

"Lilly," someone gasps. I don't care who it is. At this point, I'm concerned that there is nothing behind the painting and I fully destroyed it.

I try to patch it back together as best I can. It hangs lopsided on the wall.

Everyone is glaring at Lilly. I walk over to the body which, I don't know if it's psychological or what, but smells like rot.

Someone passes a sardine can over to me as if that stench might cover Cordelia's. I take it as if I want it. The smell of fish has me gagging.

"She poisoned the fish," Chief Dokes points his finger at Lilly. He's wearing a glove with a stained index finger. Not that I clock anything.

My attention is on the sardines, which does look weird, but then again, I'm not sure what sardines are supposed to look like. I prod my finger over the greyish pink skin, grossed out by the texture of it.

"She actually ate this?" I wonder out loud.

"Why is there a knife, then?" Edwin asks over me. The room falls silent.

"This isn't proof, guys. You're just pointing fingers!" Lilly cries.

Everyone turns to me, but I am busy tracing my hand against the edge of the sardine can. A sudden sting. A droplet of blood oozes out of my index finger.

"Who gave that to you?" Edwin smacks the can out of my hands. It clatters loudly to the floor. Loose fish flop over Cordelia's head.

"I dunno..." my voice slurs. The world starts spinning, "Woah, that took effect fast."

Not that anyone can understand what I'm saying. They are too busy yelling.

"It's the pipe she smoked," Dokes mutters from somewhere behind me.

"Oops—" my voice is thick as wool. Someone breaks my fall and lays me on the couch.

It'd be a nice sentiment, except that my head tilts weird and my neck aches.

Somewhere up above, Lilly screams something to prove her innocence and Jasmine holds up the knife yelling something about, "She used it to open the can!"

"Guys," I slur, "She has a cut on her shoulder."

I repeat it because no one hears me. Then I laugh because no one is listening and Lilly is losing her mind.

I don't know if they solved it. My breathing labours. It's a funny feeling dying this way. It's a little bit like falling asleep. Cordelia matches my eyes, and I swear something in them flickers, so grotesque and sardonic. As if she knew I had no idea what had just happened.