Deadly Sin (Cassandra Farbanks) by Sonnet O'Dell

two quart casserole dish from where it’s kept on a high shelf, but that was the extent to which I was allowed to help. She gave me the look that said I wasn’t allowed to hover either, so I scurried to the couch and picked up my copy of the bone collector .
    After seeing the movie on Channel Five for the fifth time last month, I decided to read the book that spawned the Denzel Washington, Angelina Jolie collaboration. I was surprised, as I usually am, at how different and much better it was. Because as any reader will tell you, nine times out of ten, the books are always better than the adaptations they spawn. When something states it’s loosely based, it can mean really, really loosely. Also, reading crime novels keeps me away from the romances, an all-round good idea. I was enjoying a particular well, thought out scene that hadn’t made it into the movie, when a plate was put down on the coffee table in front of me. I looked up and smiled.
    “That was fast. Thanks.”
    “Not really, you’ve been reading for over an hour. Put a book in front of you and you’re guaranteed to stay out from under my feet. Eat up before it gets cold.”
    I watched as the steam rose off chicken casserole and brown rice. I marked my page with a scrap of paper before slipping onto the floor crossed legged to eat. I was ravenous. It wasn’t hard to see why, looking back at what I’d eaten that day – some old pizza and two cups of coffee. I watched Trinket move about the kitchen cleaning up pots and wiping down the counters and the cooker. I was still absolutely captivated by how she moved. I wondered what would happen if even one minute cog slipped out of place inside her. Would there be anyone alive who could fix her? It was part of the reason I worried about her going off on her own. Having scrubbed everything thoroughly, she unknotted the apron’s white sash.
    I loved some of her outfits. They were very girly, some all frills and eyelet lace. Today’s was a much simpler outfit, a black shirt with red tartan tie and cuffs, pleated red tartan skirt over black stockings, and her red Mary Jane’s that sat by the door. She looked very secretarial until you got to the wild, curly blond ringlets that swarmed either side of her face. The hairstyle was very china doll like and her favorite out of the wigs she’d been able to salvage from the remains of the Cirque de Poupee.
    “I gave your message to Miss Mallory,” she said, folding her apron and putting it on the side. “She said to tell you to come by in the morning.” I would have responded, but she hated me to speak with my mouthful, so I just nodded.
    “I’m going downstairs to file your notes from the case of the disappearing Doberman from last week and start a new tally for how many hours you spent helping the police this time, so you can invoice them properly. How many so far?” I held up splayed fingers indicating five. She nodded before effortlessly slipping her high-heeled shoes on and clattering out the door.
    I finished my dinner and the chapter of my book before changing into something more comfortable and climbing back into bed. I wasn’t going to let thoughts of stalkers or murderers bother me anymore tonight. Truth would see me in the morning and hopefully provide much of the information I needed. I’d come to rely on her and she hadn’t let me down. I went to bed a lot earlier these days, as no one seemed to get murdered at a reasonable hour of the night. I snuggled down under the covers, closed my eyes and dreamed for the second time.
    In this dream, the same one I had a few night before, I was flying. I just took off from my balcony and glided gracefully over the city. I was always looking down at it, always admiring the things below me or at the dark twinkle of the stars before me. I’d stop from time to time, on a ledge, a statue or a streetlight, amazed how easily it took my weight. It was such a beautiful dream. Imagine my surprise when I woke lying naked