For a small town like Oldham, the Mundane isn't so much of a hotel than it's a small motel with super nice carpeting. Half of me isn't even sure why they're charging so much per night, until I walk down to lobby. A buff lady in uniform has the receptionist half-pulled over the esquire counter. Cheekbones guy from the funeral is lurking in the corner. The bellboy has a shotgun.

Calling it now. Everyone's either super into me (tiny chance) or trying to kill me (100% this has happened to me before).

"You've got visitors," the receptionist pants, one nasty-looking black-eye blinking at me. With a sharp yank of grim dignity, he extracts his lapels from the stone-grip. His fingers comb through his hair before they straighten his vest. "I told them our policy is to maintain strict confidentiality for our clients."

And violence was the answer. Gotcha.

"Appreciate you coming to see me. This all saves me the trouble of looking for you," I say to the cheekbones guy, who shifts from one leg to another. He's no longer wearing the black suit. Instead, he's put on something more casual. A leather jacket that hugs his shoulders like so, and his jeans are so tight I'd have to use a saw to get them off. Looking at him, my first thought is that I need a cold shower.

Then I look at the buff lady and think man, she's even nicer. The uniform stretches tight across her muscular shoulders and deltoids and the--oh. The vest that says POLICE. It's very obvious.

Cold shower received.

"Law enforcement," the no-nonsense lady tells me. Her voice is flat, and she pulls out her badge. I mourn the fact that there's yet another person who I'm attracted to, and this time it's a cop. Cops hate dead bodies walking and the people who make them walk even more. "You caused a ruckus earlier. We don't take too kindly to that here."

Her authority shouldn't be so attractive to me, but this town is amazing in making me wish I actually lived here.

"Are you here to take me in, officer?" I ask, placing my hands together at the wrist and holding them out. "Or to church? I've got some confessions in mind." Like, a date with someone who could lift me one-handed.

"Your...things are at the station." Cop Lady who looks like she wants to strangle me with one fist if I try anything. I love her, and yet I know nothing about her, in the same way my lactose intolerance will eventually kill me. She doesn't cuff me, though. "I'm here to give you a verbal warning for politeness's sake." Beside her, cheekbones guy keeps trying to ogle me when he thinks I'm not paying attention. That, or drill a hole into my forehead with only his eyes.

Bellboy is still holding the shotgun.

"Suspicious person and all?" I ask, glancing at him. He meets my eye and nods over to cheekbones guy who is now staring real hard at the pamphlets on the counter as if he's doesn't know what a local diner is. The receptionist gives him the stink-eye with his one good eye. If the mouse he's clicking had been a laser, it would've slice clean through the desk and given a vasectomy.

The policewoman gives a long exhale. "You offended some very important people at that church. On a regular occasion, this would be grounds to take you to the station. Considering...exceptional circumstances--"

"You can say it," I quip, helpfully. "Unintentional familial corpse separation."

She closes her eyes. "Considering exceptional circumstances, they haven't pressed for charges."

I'm offended. "I'm offended," I say. "Why are they the ones pressing charges? I should be the one because someone or someones murdered my cousin. Manslaughter's a crime, Officer..."

"The case is still under investigation," she interrupts, effectively shutting down my attempt to get her first name. Smith is so common. "But as a word of advice, try to keep the peace. Will you be staying long?"

"If I say yes--"

"That's all I need to hear," she interrupts again. "Don't make trouble. Hey," she calls to Cheekbones, "we're leaving."

Bewildered, all I can do is watch them leave. While the view is great, I'm almost sad to do it. Except I'm not, because I've got my own investigation to do with no intention of keeping the peace.

I lean onto the counter to where the receptionist is sitting at his desk. The bell boy's put away his shotgun--wherever he kept it--and gone back to manning the door. The receptionist glances up at me, and for a moment, I admire the paleness of his skin as much as the bags under his eyes. "Hey-" I glance at his nametag- "Leslie. Any chance you can recommend me a convenience store around these parts?"

I'm going to need more masking tape.