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him on the couch. “And what is our business today?” She didn’t try to suppress her grin.
    “We need to talk numbers. Very boring, but important for things like fundraisers and such. I have a feeling if you check the account we set up for donations, you will find that the little murder attempt has made your fundraiser go viral. There are some silver linings here today, my friend.”
    Gemma slid onto the couch. “That’s a good thing, I guess.”
    “You bet your sweet bippy it’s a good thing.”
    Jane rested her head on her folded arms. Jake was going to do half her work for her, she could tell. But what was he going to do about Gemma? If she had learned anything from her readings on body language, the way that Jake had jumped up from the couch when Gemma let her hand fall on his knee indicated that Jane’s assumption that they had gotten up to shenanigans last night was the least likely thing in the world. It looked like the Gemma/Jake thing wasn’t going to happen.
    And Gemma was going to end up very disappointed.
    ***

Despite nervously watching Twitter, the news, and listening to the radio every spare second of the morning, Jane and Gemma didn’t hear another word about their murder until well after noon.
    Jane had spent the morning cleaning for two clients and trying to ignore that she didn’t have any new messages or texts from Isaac.
      Gemma had assisted a birth.
      By the time they met back at their apartment for a late lunch, they were exhausted.
    Jane stretched across the couch with a yogurt. Her shoulders ached. Her morning headache had progressed. Now it felt like a nail piercing her temple. She was starving but couldn’t put the effort into anything more than peeling the foil lid off of the plastic cup of Oikos.
    Gemma slumped at the breakfast bar, her head in her hands.
    There was a tap at the door, and then Jake poked his head in.
    Jane groaned.
    He plopped a greasy paper bag on the counter next to Gemma. “Lunch. Eat. And listen.” He tapped his phone and a newscast turned on.
    “ The stabbing at the Yo-Heaven fundraiser for the Helping Hands Early Education Center on December twenty-sixth turned a yo-heavenly night into hell for everyone at the party. It is being called a coldhearted fro-yo murder.
      An hour into an event intended to provide quality early intervention education to the children of homeless families, a woman, now identified as Nevada resident Michelle White, was stabbed in the side. The wound proved to be fatal.
    White, a mother of one and grandmother of three, was in town for the holiday.
    The police believe the incident was a random act of violence.”
    “It says something about the Adler-Crawford Detective Agency that the latest information on our current case comes from the Mount Hood Community College School of Journalism podcast, doesn’t it?” Jake said.
    Gemma snickered. “The Adler-Crawford Detective Agency? We’re all in business together now?”
    “You’re not a detective, Gem, sorry.” Jake sat on Jane’s legs. “Jane, what are you going to do now that the ‘Pod-vocate’ has handed you your information on a silver platter?”
    “I’m going to eat a hamburger. That’s what you have in the bag over there, isn’t it? A burger with a roly-poly bun?”
    “Indeed.”
    “Then pass that on a silver platter.”
    Gemma tossed a paper-wrapped burger to Jane.
    “You’re trying to pester me into action, Jake, but you don’t have to.” Jane took a huge bite of the juicy burger on the fat bun.
    “She has been working on this.” Gemma grabbed a French fry. “Not McDonalds, but it will do.”
    Jane swallowed. “I’ve got alerts set. I would have heard this as soon as I checked them. And I know exactly what I’ll do next.”
    “If you say you’re going to google Michelle White from Nevada, you’re a big dork.”
    “True, the first step has changed. Michelle White is not the Hortense Swiggenbotham kind of name I had been hoping for. But that