"I met Savine today. She sniffed me, went silent for a dozen seconds, and then started describing the mansion," her father said. "At first, I thought she had investigated me beforehand and then pulled that foolish prank to get at me. I didn't care for it much at the time. But with the heads popping everywhere I am…"
It sounded like some cheap mystery novel you would get to know about on the newspapers after an author committed suicide.
But Murkato was living through this childish plotline herself, so she couldn't quite joke about it genuinely. The odd part was, though, even knowing that Savine might be staring at her right now, she didn't feel so violated by the fact.
Perhaps it was because of all the years she spent dancing on someone else's palm.