The initial silence was agonising, in its own way; was this a job request, or a prank call? Was this a friend, or someone trying to sell him PPI again? Actually, it was kind of sad, he realised, that this would probably be the most exciting part of his day; waiting to find out who had called him.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"I need your help."</span>Okay, Emily Allen, are you bore me or entice me?<span style="font-weight: bold">"...someone I know has been murdered."</span>Entice, it would seem. But also terrify, he noted, feeling the sharp pang of panic rise in his chest. Murder?<br/><br/>Dean took a moment to think, adjusting the phone awkwardly in his hand as she sobbed. He didn't like hearing women cry, not usually, but regardless, he listened quietly. He couldn't deny that she had successfully piqued his interest; he had never actually investigated a murder case, before. Sure, he had followed them, he had tried to solve them behind the Police's back, but being directly asked for assistance on a homicide? That was a first.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"I fear, for some reasons I would prefer not to state now, that someone will try to pin the murder on me."</span>If he had not been tempted before, he was most certainly engaged, now.<br/><br/>"All right, Ms Allen, I can understand your distress. Death is a difficult thing." he assured, forcing a doleful smile into his tone as he began to pace his lounge, pensive and excited. "But I am obliged to tell you that homicide is a matter for the police. Are they presently involved, or notified of the murder, at the very least?"<br/><br/>It was immensely difficult not to pounce immediately onto this request; this was exactly the kind of juicy case that he had only ever fantasised about receiving, before now. Sleuthing around after a killer, that was the kind of thing he'd dreamed of as a kid. The dreams had never really stopped, if he was honest with himself. But, it was also illegal to let a crime of such magnitude go unreported, and there was no way he was getting strung up in this mess. Criminals were interesting, but he did not fancy sharing their living quarters, twenty four hours a day.<br/><br/>And then there was the matter that he didn't know this woman. He didn't know this crime. His mind was racing with the possibilities, with the idea of walking the razor's edge between catching a killer and possibly getting arrested. Or murdered. No, he needed more. More information, more incentive. The fantasy had to be perfect.