Chapter 1

In which the game presents itself and Francis finds a distraught older brother.

Dear Mr. Bonnefois,

Did it really take you so long to read this letter? You obviously don't care for Miss Dupont very much at all. No, I myself am not Miss Dupont. That poor girl has nothing to do with this letter excepting that she delivered it.

You may call me "The Rose". Do not bother finding out who I am, for you never will until I choose to reveal myself to you. All I will tell you is that I am a fan of yours—the biggest fan of yours, in fact. I especially like the cases you do with Miss Héderváry, which is why I am so upset.

Really, I was beside myself with anger when I discovered the two of you would no longer be working together. So angry, in fact, that I decided I must have the two of you start solving cases together again, which brings me to my next point.

I have released Bella Peeters from prison. I will not tell you how I did so. Do not bother to ask. I will inform you that she is furious, and all she would like to do now that she is free is kill Elisabeta, and then you, for imprisoning her in the first place.

However, she does not know where either of you are. Luckily for her, I have provided her with clues in the form of five black hairpins scattered around the European continent. I have no doubt she will eventually find Elisabeta, which is why you must find her first.

You must find the pins before she does. Your hairpins will be orange. Find your five orange pins before Bella Peeters can find her five black pins, and Elisabeta's life is safe. If Miss Peeters wins, there is no such guarantee.

Do not bother to warn Miss Héderváry. If you do, I will immediately tell Miss Peeters of her location and wherever she decides to go next.

I do hope you enjoy this little game I've set up. Though, your enjoyment comes second to mine, and with such high stakes, how could I not?

Your clue for your first pin is "Flanders et Wallonia".

Good luck!

-The Rose

Francis glared at the letter as he wracked his brain for what the clues could mean again and again. Flanders et Wallonia? So Flanders and Wallonia. But what did those two words mean?

Yes, okay, they were regions in Belgium. But was he supposed to go there? Was he just supposed to scour every inch of ground in Flanders and Wallonia until he found this mysterious orange pin?

No, that would take too long, and whoever was doing this wanted to get some quick fun out of it, by the looks of the letter. He had to dig deeper.

But there was so much information about the two regions! He could glance at the paper and find out how their economy was doing!

So it was something set in stone, something that would be mentioned along with the most basic of information.

It was time to do some research.

As the marvelous internet had not been invented yet, Francis had to go to the library to do some reading. He pulled a large book on Belgian history off a shelf and coughed as dust clouded around him. Obviously not a very popular book.

Like a true researcher, Francis immediately went for the index. "Flanders, Flanders, Flanders…" he muttered as he ran his finger down old pages, searching for that golden word. He paled when he reached it. There were dozens of page references after it!

Time to get reading.

Several hours later, Francis had absorbed far too much knowledge than was healthy about Belgium. It was a lovely country, sure, but he'd been there once and didn't want to go back after what he had to deal with when he was there last.

He'd had Elisabeta with him toward the end, and that was nice, but all the same, catching a deranged mass-murderer in love with her older brother holding a sharp weapon while trying to keep everyone else safe was not a fun thing to do.

He turned what he had learned about in his head. One was French, the other Dutch…one was in the north, one was in the south…one had a rooster, one had a lion…

A rooster and a lion. That sparked something. But what?

A rooster and a lion…a rooster and a lion…

He thought back to his time in Brussels. It was a nice place, even when girls from ages eighteen to thirty were being slaughtered nightly and there were no leads whatsoever. Francis wasn't a young girl, so he had no need to fear.

He'd met some nice girls as well, the relatives of the victims, and he'd managed to keep them safe from the killer—at least, one night at a time.

And he'd found Elisabeta, just as he was crossing that road. She'd run out of a townhouse in her underclothes and the solution to the mystery of the Brussels Butchering fell into his lap. Though the beautiful Hungarian woman had not, to his mild chagrin.

But he was over that now. Wasn't he? Yes, he was. Still, he couldn't help but fondly reminisce on that lovely afternoon. The sun was shining, there was a fresh body waiting for him at the police headquarters, and an angel in very little clothing had landed on him on the intersection of…

What were the street names again?

It was something in Dutch, so he'd had his friend translate it. They were called something silly, something with alliteration…

Rooster Road and Lion Lane.

As in the lion and the rooster of Flanders and Wallonia.

As in the hiding spot of his first orange pin.

He jumped out of his hard, wooden chair, making it clatter on the ground. Other library patrons shushed him, but he ignored them and dashed out the huge double doors of the library to book a ticket to Brussels.

There it was. The townhouse on the corner of Rooster Road and Lion Lane.

It held few memories, but they were important. Soft, elated, and sharp memories. And more than just the memories, it was the anvil on which his partnership with Elisabeta had forged.

It was for her he was here today. He wouldn't let another person he'd grown close to die.

He'd asked around the neighborhood to see who lived there now. Lars Peeters would have moved since his sister was revealed as a brutal killer, right? Apparently not. He didn't leave much anymore, paying people to fetch his groceries and things he needed for him. No one had really seen him since the trial.

Francis needed to see him now. He'd have the first orange pin.

He knocked on the door. "Hello? I have a question about, er, property values! May I come in?" There was no answer. Francis pushed the door gently, and it opened for him. He quietly stepped inside.

Lars was nowhere in sight. Francis crept around the house, quickly searching the rooms that he came to. There was one left at the end of the hall after ten minutes, and he looked inside.

There was a man lying on a bed. He hadn't shaved in days, and the room smelled. Francis wrinkled his nose. Ugh. Disgusting. Still, he had to bear with it.

"Hello, Lars Peeters?"

The man rolled over and stared at Francis. There was a blue and white scarf bunched over his mouth and nose. He muttered, "What do you want?"

"Ah, my name is Francis Bonnefois, and I'm a private detective based in France—"

Lars snorted. "I know who you are. You arrested my sister."

Francis suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. "Yes. Yes I did."

"What do you want?" Lars grumbled. "Here to arrest me too?"

"No. Actually, I'm here on a sort of mission." Lars said nothing. "Your sister has escaped from prison. Did you know that?"

Lars sat up. "When did this happen?"

"A few days ago."

"Oh no, she might come here," groaned Lars. "I can't let her find me…I have to get out…"

"Yes, that's all very well and good, but I need something from you."

"What?" Lars snapped. He looked genuinely upset now.

"Have you received an orange hairpin in the post recently?"

Lars didn't say anything for a few moments. "I got it about a week ago. Do you need it for something?"

Francis nodded. "I need it and four others for my…mission. If I collect all five before your sister gets five black pins then I will save Elisabeta's life. If not, your sister will kill her."

Lars cursed. "The pin's on the table. Next to the black one. It's got a note in it."

Francis went cold. "You have the black pin as well?"

Lars buried his face in his hands. "It means she's definitely coming here, doesn't it?"

"I'm…very sorry." Francis didn't quite understand why this man didn't want to see his sister. Maybe it was because she had been killing innocent women, or perhaps the fact that she was obsessed with him and wanted to not only be his sister, but also his wife.

That was probably it.

He picked up the orange hairpin on the side table. It truly was orange—the steel of the pin had been dyed orange, and there were orange flowers—simple blossoms, really, perhaps they were posies?—melded onto one end.

The black hairpin was exactly the same, except it was all pitch black. In addition, the flowers that were melded onto the end were roses.

Francis thanked Lars for his time and slipped the pin into his pocket. He considered taking Bella's, but it could just send her after him, and that was something he didn't want at all.

It wasn't until he was outside that he read what was on the note.

In the same curvy handwriting that The Rose had used on the note, there were two words.

Seis Tomatos.

AN: Seis Tomatos? What could that mean?

It's too bad that none of you have any idea. I really wish I could write up the older stories for you, but this one would actually be a multi-chapter and it's not really necessary to the story. I'll try to be as vague as possible when Francis figures out what the clue means.

Hint: Seis is not describing the number of tomatoes.

The next chapter may be unnecessarily depressing. People get stabbed in bad places. You have been warned.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! :D