"Marion?" Debra rubbed her sleepy eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was already 12:30. The incident last night had drained her energy, causing her to sleep in.

She pushed open the bedroom door and walked out. Downstairs, Marion was cooking in the kitchen.

The others still seemed to be asleep. Debra spoke up. "Your injury hasn't healed yet, and you're already rushing to make me lunch?"

Marion came out holding a pot. "Go rest a little longer. The other dish will be ready soon."

Debra came down the stairs and flopped into his arms. Her exhaustion instantly melted away.

"I'm so tired. Get a drumstick for me," she murmured.

"Sure," Marion agreed, patting her head.

of his room, sniffing the air. "Who's

he looked up at the ceiling and whistled, "Uh, I'm going to check

the kitchen," said

Marion refused without even looking at

he told Debra, "Wait on the

nodded, glancing

cleaning. It looked like he

to doubt

was hard to tell if if he was one of

behind it all or just

the house, looking haggard from a long

and said, "Mrs. Houston, we didn't find the three missing socialites

"What about Frederic?"

"Who?"

who

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