Death at the Willow Creek Inn

His little body remains tense, nose locked on the roses as if they personally insulted him. Whispering ripples through the guests—words like murder, motive, and mysterious paper thingy drift on the breeze. Avery rakes a hand through her hair—half stress, half frustration. “These are notes on Bert’s case,” she says hoarsely. “Preliminary statements. When it’s finally out, Avery sags onto the edge of her bed, coughing hard.