"Jaspen and Thelma, the best detectives."

— No, it doesn't work.I looked sideways at Jasper, hie eyebrows furrowed. "We might ask Zolan—"Jasper stared at me. "Have you chosen...death?"Our neighbor, an egotistical horticulturalist, liked to remind us of his superiority. And would certainly not accept to help us pick a catchline for our activity.

Jasper had said 'our hobby' but it was too unprofessional and it did not help adults trust us.

So far, we had found the car keys of another neighbor, and persuaded an old scientific but bored researched that "no, aliens would not choose Greenhill as the best location to invade Earth." The way he described his theory seemed like a movie set, but we had to remember he once persuaded the town that there would be a water use limit, last summer.

Still, we hoped to have more grandiose cases for our amazing duo. "The modern Sherlock and John, that's what we are." I had declared few months to my friend.

I looked up. In our wooden shack, we were both laughing at the camera in the photo framed by newspaper headlines. A sigh resonated. As I turned to face him, Jasper gave away his worries: "We might not have other cases of the whole spring, y'know. 'Might as well wait 'til the summer, Thelma."

I agreed.