The way people gathered around her, you'd think she was a celebrity or something. The flash of cameras, that smug expression. Barbara was clearly relishing the attention.

  Yet here I was, like an intern given the most dull task. Hold the sign and direct the public towards the enormous gazebo. It was almost pointless, as the vice did enough shouting to summon an army, Barbara just stamping entries with a smile.

  And looking over at Dorathy and Steve, the couple Loud enough to deter any customers.

  "I told you, you can not scan people's faces without consent."

  Steve shrugged, "You wanted me to automate it; this system does that."

  Dorathy nearly burst a vein, "That is not my point!"

  I sighed, the sign resting on my shoulder like a shovel.

  "I could bury them; it would be easy."

  "With the foot traffic, they would be found by evening," said a voice.

  I looked at the potential customer, her black ponytail fluttering in the wind, her expression as stiff as plaster. Did I just ruin a sale?

  "Did you hear me?" I asked.

  She frowned, "Was I not supposed to?"

  Another sigh; my blood pressure was as irritated as I was.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "Don't mind me," she chuckled, "Just here for business."

  Her straight face relaxed a bit, eyes curving.

  "I, too, imagine burying my coworkers."

  I studied her expression, but the more I looked, the more it became unclear.

  "The analytical type, aren't you?" she leaned in, "makes me wonder why you look so guilty."

  I jerked back, and she laughed.

  "I'm joking," she said.

  But I knew that expression anywhere.

  Knew those eyes, that narrowed.

  Suspicion.

  "Mr Grayson", she started, my heart clamping inside my chest. "What were you doing two nights-"

  "What's going on?" asked the Vice, "You're meant to hold the sign, not drop it."

  Looking down, the sand coated the edges of the paper. I hadn't realised when it had fallen.

  But more importantly, Frank stepped up to the strange woman.

  "The press is not due for another hour, I suggest-"

  Then, like a flip-phone gun, the woman drew a leather badge, the metallic glint almost blinding me.

  "Detective?!" said Frank, almost choking as he stepped back. "Dorathy!" he shouted.

  But the Detective just moved faster, like a fox circling in, her dictaphone already out.

  "Frank - Vice of marketing, I have some questions. regarding-"

  Then Barbara showed up.

  "Amy, you came."

  I stared at her, stared at the Detective.

  SHE KNEW THE DETECTIVE???

  I almost burnt a hole in Barbara's forehead, but before I could move-

  "Shut it," Amy said, "I'm working, I asked you not to call me that while I-"

  Barbara squeezed the detective, and for a moment, for the first time ever. She glared at Grey, serious, cold.

  "Go," she mouthed. "Hurry."

  Then she smiled again and held the Detective.

  "oh don't be like that, I'll show you around, what are friends for?"

  "I'm not your friend, Barb, I'm on duty."

  And in that second, with the Detective's back facing me and the approaching crowd nearing.

  I had to trust Barbara.

  But she knew the Detective.

  What if she called the reinvestigation?

  "Oh come on, Amy, if you don't hurry up, I'm going to think you don't like me."

  Barbara glanced his way.

  "Hurry."

  "Stop it," yelled Amy, "you always do this."

  And I just had to move, steps, bodies, and I merged into the crowd.

  It wasn’t like I had a choice.