The Riddle Club.
That's the name of the group that investigates real crimes, according to Leila. Whether old or new, she says there's no case they can't solve – even cold cases that went unsolved for years have been cracked by them.
"They remind me of someone," I muttered, watching them speak with the victim's roommate.
The way they moved with such confidence as they entered the crime scene… every time they uncovered something new in the room, I could tell they weren't just seeking attention. They were passionate about solving the puzzle of each crime – the more difficult the case, the more intrigued they seemed. One of them reminded me of him. No, their appearances weren't similar, but their love for case-solving was identical. His eyes would come alive the same way whenever he was in a crime scene – like he truly belonged in those moments.
I shook my head sharply as memories from that time threatened to surface. Instead, I focused on looking for anything that might help with the case. Don't get me wrong – I wasn't going to parade around announcing my findings like some detective wannabe. But if the police asked me questions later, I wanted to be able to tell them what I'd noticed.
Shortly after, another woman arrived. Her black curly hair was a mess, her dress wrinkled, and her makeup smudged. She smelled like a mix of her perfume and a man's cologne, with faint marks on her exposed skin. I put it together quickly: she'd been with her boyfriend all night, then rushed over as soon as she heard the news about her roommate. Her gasping breaths and distressed expression only confirmed my conclusion.
"M-Monica?" the newcomer called out to the girl crying in Rory's arms.
The girl who'd been called Monica turned toward her, then wailed loudly.
"Celina!" the girl in Rory's arms exclaimed when she saw who had arrived.
My eyes widened. Celina – that was the name the ghost had been repeating in a shaky voice the night before. Did that mean Celina was the killer? I glanced toward the door, where the ghost stood glaring at the two hugging girls.
"Oh my God! Carolyn!" Celina cried out, tears streaming down her face as she covered her mouth to muffle her sobs. She started toward the body, but a red-haired boy from the Riddle Club stepped in her path.
"You can't touch the corpse," he said firmly.
Celina could do nothing but collapse in his arms, sobbing as he comforted her. I studied her face, trying to tell if her grief was genuine or feigned – but the moment was interrupted when police officers arrived and ordered everyone to clear the crime scene. I was about to follow the crowd outside when a breeze brushed through my hair. I looked back to find a small window wide open.
Questions flooded my mind: Why is the window open when the AC is running? And why does the corpse smell like apple cider mixed with vinegar?
"Zoey, let's leave!" Rory called, pulling me from my thoughts.
Outside, I saw the three Riddle Club boys still inside the room, observing the scene. I'd expected the investigators to kick them out, but instead, an officer approached and started discussing their findings like they were part of the team.
"They really just let them stay in there," I thought to myself – though Rory still heard me.
She giggled. "Surprising, right? But it makes sense once you know why." She pointed to a tall man with black hair and toned muscles who was talking with the police. "That's Blake Logan – Inspector Logan's son."
"Even so, shouldn't it be prohibited to enter a crime scene, even if your dad's an inspector?" I asked, my voice edged with quiet frustration.
Rory looked confused. "Why do you sound like you've been through something like this before?"
Because I have. She had no idea about the work I'd done for my former partner – how we'd had to gather evidence ourselves when incompetent officers refused to do their jobs, their egos too big to admit they were wrong.
"Anyway, the real reason is they've proven how capable they are. That's why Inspector Logan trusts them completely."
"I see…"
Our conversation was cut short as staff wheeled out Carolyn's body. An officer announced we could return to our dorms. Most people headed back to their rooms, but some lingered – eager to watch the Riddle Club in action.
"Are you guys going back to our dorm?" Clarisse asked.
"Rory wants to stay and watch them work, so we're sticking around," Leila said, tapping Rory's shoulder. "You can head back if you want."
"Nuh-uh! I'm not going alone. What if Carolyn's ghost jumps out when I open the door?"
"Ghosts aren't scientifically proven – there's no evidence to confirm their existence, so they're just figments of your imagination," Leila lectured. I bit back a protest – ghosts were real, and one was standing right beside Clarisse.
"What about you, Zoey?" Rory turned to me.
I was about to answer when a voice cut through the crowd. The speaker had neck-length black hair, sharp eyes, and a permanent frown. He wore the Ephemeral Academy uniform, but his tie was loose and two buttons on his shirt were undone – the classic "bad boy" look from romance novels.
"The victim's name is Carolyn Wright, 17 years old, and a sophomore here at Ephemeral Academy. She died from a stab wound to the back; the weapon used was a kitchen knife. There are no signs of forced entry or struggle inside the room, so we conclude the killer is likely one of her roommates," the boy explained, his aura matching his appearance.
"Who's that?" I whispered to Clarisse, who stood to my left.
"That's Rafael Eldritch – leader of the Riddle Club. He solves most of their cases."
I nodded and kept watching. Yep – I decided to stay and see how the Riddle Club would crack this case.
"The estimated time of death is two days ago, so I've asked one of my men to check the CCTV footage from Wednesday. But first, I'll be interviewing her roommates," he said before walking toward the two women.
"I'm Inspector Logan, and I have some questions for you. I'd appreciate it if you answered clearly and truthfully."
The two girls nodded their heads. Inspector Logan started with Monica.
"Ms. Bernis, where were you two days ago, before Ms. Wright died?"
"I took a vacation to my hometown and left three days ago – Carolyn was still alive then. When I came back today… that's when I saw her dead at her desk," Monica said, breaking down in tears again.
"What time did you discover the body?"
"7:00 in the morning, when I arrived at the dorm."
"Do you have any proof of your alibi?"
"Yes – I have photos and videos from my trip with my family, plus my travel tickets." She showed her phone and documents to the officers.
The inspector nodded as he took notes. "Last question – are you two the only roommates Carolyn had?"
"Yes. Our third roommate moved out after graduating."
Monica's alibi was solid, and she spoke without hesitation – either she was innocent, or a skilled liar. But if she were guilty, the timeline didn't add up. She seemed innocent… yet my instincts told me otherwise.
"And you, Ms. Diaz – where were you two days before the victim died?"
I noticed Celina turn pale as the questions shifted to her. Suspicious.
"I-I was at my boyfriend's house… I just got back today too," she answered, her voice cracking as she avoided eye contact. I was sure Inspector Logan had noticed it too.
"When did you go to your boyfriend's house?"
"A-around 6:45 in the evening," she admitted.
Celina's answers were short and vague, like she was hiding something – and the inspector clearly suspected her.
"Then where were you before 6:45 PM?"
Celina bit her lip, visibly growing nervous as she weighed whether to tell the truth or not. In the end, she chose honesty.
In a quiet voice, she said, "I was in our dorm."
A gasp rippled through the crowd – it sounded like an admission of guilt.
"So you're saying you killed her?"
To our surprise, Celina shook her head frantically. "No! I didn't kill Carolyn! I swear she was alive when I left that night – please believe me!"
"But the time of death says otherwise."
"I-I-It's n-not C-Celina…"
A shiver ran down my spine, and the hair on my neck stood up as someone whispered in my ear. I turned to find Carolyn's ghost standing there, tears streaming down her face.
"Please… save me," she begged, pain and helplessness written across her features.
I stared at her pleading eyes for a moment before looking away. I knew what she wanted, but how could I help? I couldn't just shout that Celina was innocent without proof – I'd be accused of the crime myself, and the friendships I'd just built would be ruined.
Just like before.
"Inspector Logan, let's not jump to conclusions – let's wait for the officer with the CCTV footage," Rafael said.
As if on cue, an officer arrived and handed a tablet to the inspector. "Sir, this is the footage from two days ago. The only person captured on camera leaving the dorm is Ms. Celina Diaz – at 6:45 PM."
"Then Ms. Celina Diaz is our prime suspect."
"That's impossible! Carolyn was alive two days ago – please believe me!" Celina sobbed, but no one listened. To everyone else, she was already guilty.
Watching her beg for her innocence forced memories to resurface – of me in her place, pleading for someone to believe me, while he looked at me coldly. I'd seen the real culprit grin as she clung to his arm and walked away, just like how I now saw someone smirk as Celina was being dragged toward the police.
Maybe that's why I did something reckless.
"It's not Celina!" I blurted out – or rather, shouted. Every eye in the crowd turned to me. Even Carolyn's ghost stopped crying, staring at me in shock.
Shit! What the hell am I doing? I thought, mentally pulling at my hair.
"What's your name, miss?" Inspector Logan asked as he approached me.
"Z-Zoey… Zoey Lopez, sir."
"And why do you say she's not the killer?"
Okay, what now? I could lie and say I was just tired from moving and spoke nonsense. But my conscience wouldn't let me, and I had a feeling Carolyn's ghost wouldn't let me sleep either. How could I explain it when all evidence pointed to Celina?
"Well…" I said, racking my brain as I replayed everything I'd seen since entering the crime scene. Then an idea clicked – though I still needed to confirm it.
"Inspector, is there a way to speed up decomposition?" I asked.
He looked confused, unable to answer right away.
"Possible with heat and insects," Rafael said, walking over to us. "It's called taphonomic factors."
Taphono-what?
He must have noticed my confusion, because he sighed and clarified. "They're factors that either speed up or slow down the decomposition process."
"That's it! That's the answer!" I said excitedly, drawing more stares. Great, now everyone's going to think I'm strange.
"What do you mean, Miss Lopez?"
"Last night, our wall was unusually hot because our neighbor had their heater cranked up. But today, when we entered the victim's dorm, the heater was off and the AC was running – yet the small window was open," I explained.
"So you're saying—"
"The culprit used taphonomic methods," the red-haired boy finished, stepping forward.
He exuded such energetic aura that the heavy tension in the air lightened immediately. To put it simply – he was a person full of life. Pun intended.
"To make it clear: after stabbing the victim, the killer turned the heater on full blast and opened the window to let flies in, speeding up decomposition," Rafael explained.
"And today, the killer returned to turn off the heater, get rid of the flies with an apple cider mixture, then switched on the AC," I continued. "That explains the faint musty smell in the room and why the corpse had hints of apple cider."
When I finished, silence fell over the crowd as everyone stared at me in amazement. That's when I realized what I'd done.
Damn it – old habits die hard.
I glanced at Blake, who gave me a meaningful smile – like I'd passed some kind of test.
"So if what you're saying is true, the victim was killed yesterday," Inspector Logan said, finally breaking the silence.
"Yes – which means Celina couldn't have done it, since she only returned today," Rafael confirmed.
"Then that means…"
"Yep!" the red-haired boy chimed in, popping the "p." "It's Monica Bernis."
Everyone turned to Monica, who stood frozen – except me. I'd seen her smile faintly while Celina was being accused, and I'd known right then she was the killer.
"Three days ago, you booked a flight home to build a solid alibi," Rafael explained. "You left for your hometown two days ago, but returned here yesterday using your father's car – so your travel history wouldn't show it. You booked a nearby hotel before coming back to the dorm to carry out your plan, didn't you?"
Monica recovered quickly, straightening up with false confidence. "That's quite the deduction, Rafael – but if I'd turned off the heater and switched on the AC, the musty smell would have been strong when everyone arrived. You said yourselves it was only faint."
"Except you didn't lead us to the dorm at 7:00," I cut in. I'd started this – I might as well see it through.
"W-what? I did find Carolyn at 7:00!"
"I know you found her at 7:00," I said, not letting her finish. "But you didn't bring us there until later."
Monica swallowed hard. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."
"You thought no one would check the time when they heard your scream – or that anyone who did would be too focused on the body to remember. But I checked my clock after waking up to your scream – it was 7:15."
After I revealed the flaw in her alibi, Monica began to tremble. She clenched her hands, her eyes unfocused as sweat beaded on her forehead – still searching for a way out. I noticed Blake staring at me, giving me another meaningful smile that left me confused.
"So in those 15 minutes, our killer turned off the heater, sprayed the body with apple cider, switched on the AC, and opened the window to air out the room before screaming for help," the red-haired boy explained cheerfully. "Wow – quite the performance!"
"Y-you have no proof!" Monica stammered, trying to sound confident – though to me, it sounded like a last-ditch hope that Rafael had no evidence to back up the accusation.
But fate wasn't on her side.
"We have footage of you entering the dorm at 7:00," Rafael said calmly. "There's no sign of distress until 7:15 – most people would scream or call for help immediately after finding a body, but you did neither until then."
Monica gritted her teeth and glared at me, but I held her gaze. I was just doing what was right – giving Carolyn justice and saving Celina from a crime she didn't commit.
Celina walked slowly toward Monica, reaching out before hesitating and letting her hand fall to her side.
"Why did you do it, Monica?" she asked, her voice thick with betrayal and tears. "I thought Carolyn was your best friend."
Monica scoffed, looking at her with contempt. "Best friend? If she was really my friend, she wouldn't have seduced Grey and stolen him from me!"
"Carolyn didn't seduce him! He confessed to her, but she turned him down because of you!"
"So what? You want me to thank her? Regret killing her?" Monica laughed hysterically. "Never! She deserved it – and you!" She pointed at Celina, her anger boiling over. "You had one job. You were supposed to be a good friend and take the blame, but you had to beg for your innocence and ruin everything!"
Listening to her, I felt nothing but disgust. How could someone blame others for their own jealousy and impulsiveness – jumping to conclusions without checking the facts first?
The police finally arrested Monica, and I followed along until they put her in the patrol car. As it drove away, a soft voice whispered in my ear:
"Thank you, Zoey."
When I turned, no one was there – Carolyn's ghost was gone.
"Ms. Lopez. Can we talk to you?"
This time, when I turned around, three people were standing in front of me.
The members of the Riddle Club.