The Janice K. Penfeather memorial library was the room I dwelt in most at the Academy. It was basically my living quarters. If it wasn't a no food zone and closed at 8, I'd practically sleep in it! The library had a cool light blue tint, and was divided half and half between physical books and datadisc books of times lost during the Toxic Calamity. Despite the risk of cutting your finger or losing your place in them, I naturally gravitated towards physical books and I made it my life's mission of amassing my own personal library back home. But reading a romantic mystery was hardly my reason for coming here for in a seperate room, there was a wide, silver, churning machine in the corner of the library. As I approached it, an orange hologram projected itself out of the Search Engine. Its features feminine but polygonal, monitoring my every move.

Luckily, I had managed to take a photo of the cursed statue before it was confiscated. I quickly uploaded it on my comphone. "Search Engine," I demanded, holding out my phone. "Look this up for me."

The voice spoke in a deep, but very haughty feminine tone. "Search Engine?" she mocked. "Everyone is always asking, look this up for me? Look this up for me… but does anyone genuinely look up to me for all the good I've done?!"

I sighed, as amazing as it was that a machine could yield a plethora of customized information for you, they still had not ironed out her personality quirks. Unfortunately, I had to reason with this sassy program.

"I do…" I answered. "You've helped me with numerous projects and cases. Without you, I'd be nothing."

The machine laughed in its womanly tone. "Of course," it said. "That's what I like to hear."

"Excellent," I replied in relief. "Can you look this up for me, Search Engine?"

"I go by, Flow, now–get it? Data Flow?"

I rolled my eyes. She was even cornier than Archie. "Ok, sure, Flow. Thank you."

A red light flickered at the bottom of the machine, waiting to scan my phone. I slid the image beneath it. Gasping, I watched as a holographic version of the cursed statue replaced Flow's polygonal face. Even when digitized, it sure was a mug only a momma demon could love.

"This statue is…" Flow began.

I nibbled on my vape. Was this an ancient relic from the days people worshipped demons? A symbol of the apocalypse or…

Flow's voice answered curtly. "Not available."

My mouth dropped. "Not available? How is it not available?!"

"Well, excuse me," Flow answered in a sassy voice. "Let's see how well you perform when someone deletes some of your memory over the night!"

"Huh?" My eyebrows raised. "Do you know who did that?"

"Nope," the machine answered. "They also deleted my search history before they left."

"Clever clogs," I muttered. "Finally a smooth operator on my level."

My vape hung low in my mouth as I gathered my wits together. Some joker had taken them and scattered them like marbles on the floor. What was my next plan of action?

"You know," Flow added. "Since you are on a quest to find this out. Perhaps you could download my app and personally insert the info in my databank! I don't like it when there is something I don't know, you know? I am a database after all!"

"Way ahead of you, sister," I said, clicking into the libraries server. "I would have downloaded you earlier if you weren't a complete headcase."

"Touche," the machine answered.

I left the library that night with a new case on my hands and a smile on my face. I didn't have an answer, but this time, the question was just as satisfying. The mystery of the cursed demon statue had commenced!

***

It could just be the side effects from my triple mocha-choca triple shot expresso, but at the Newsie stand, my excitement and anticipation was palpable. As all the news that was fit to print came out of the Newsbot, I salivated over the thought of a brand new headline about the Olive case. Imagining my name bestowed on the front page like a laurel reef. But when the paper came out of the bot, it told a different story….literaly.

"Legendary Michelle Angelo Painting stolen from the Smithsnorian. Vanished without a trace! Also, see page two for latest update involving the Sutherland case."

My eyes were ready to do a triple somersault in my head. Another headline cruelly snatched away from me in favor of something menial!

Stolen story; please report.

Well, okay, a stolen Michelle Angelo Painting was big bananas. But still, I had to fight tooth and nail just to get some love from the papers. The headlines were truly a cruel mistress.

To make matters worse, when I arrived at the Enigmatic Academy, another mistake from my past came crawling out of the woodwork like a voluptuous termite.

Olive greeted me in the chandelier laden hallway and we made our way to first period.

But when I arrived at the classroom, a much more becoming face was waiting in front of the door. It was the dean, but his face didn't look so welcome–in fact, he looked rather cross.

"Jacky," Archie said, "You're coming with me to my office"

"But why?!" I stammered dumbly. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Archie cocked his head, observing me with an eagle eyed squint. "That's what they all say, and let me answer you this: If you don't, your whole standing in Noirberg will be at stake."

I nearly laid an egg in fright. This wasn't like when Sutherland said it. Archie was a lot cooler (and cuter.)

Was I gonna end up in the shady backpages with the ointment ads?

I couldn't protest, so I followed him down to the office where my eyes were met with another unwelcome sight.

The first was the "fop in chief," Cornberry.

My heart burst through my chest at the sight of the other visitor…

Standing there in a dapper violet fedora and trenchcoat was Ms. Gone herself–Maria Santiago Gonezales. The most dangerous woman I put away. And the most alluring and elusive.

She tipped her floppy hat halfway over her chocolate brown face, leaving a singular eye to gaze at me. She flipped her curling locks of brunette hair and grinned. "Hola Jackie. My good friend. We meet again."

I shivered Even her voice was dipped in honey and spice.

As I stood flabbergasted, she raised an eyebrow. "Have you forgotten me, mi amor?"

"Forgotten you?!" I stammered. "How could I forget the one criminal who dangled my heart like a puppet on a string."

Maria Santiago pursed her lips. "Aw, hard feelings Jack?"

I summoned my walls. "You almost managed to get the jump on me," I boasted, "but you weren't good enough."

Maria was silent, though her eyes teased me mercilously.

"Archie?!" I stammered. "Have you flipped your lid? Why'd you let her out of the pen after she managed to steal the five most valuable paintings in Noirberg."

Maria slinked her way over to me. "Jacky, Jacky," she said, her voice caressing me like a hand through butter. "They let me out for good behavior and even nicer legs."

She narrowed her eyes and spilled the truth. "Besides, I'm much too young to be a hardened criminal."

Maria was right. She enrolled in this academy and used all its technological resources (and her wiles) to perpetrate her crimes. But she was only seventeen. A babe in the eyes of the law.

Archie grinned widely. "We have allowed her freedom in exchange for a bit of insight and perspective."

He strolled over and placed his hands up on my shoulders. "This next case is a doozy and I figured, Jacky-poo, you could use some inside knowledge from a criminal mastermind."

"What case?!" I exclaimed.

"For a master detective," Maria teased in her sultry voice. "You sure are thick, Jack. Eet's front page news."

"The Michelle Angelo case," I exclaimed. "Of course."

I swiveled my eyes towards Maria. "But work with her? You cannot be serious."

"Why not?" Archie said with a smile. "Are you a master art thief?"

"Well no…I–"

"Then it's settled,"Archie said and he limped over.

He placed his hands on our shoulders. "Book smarts and street smarts blended together into an awesome smoothie of teamwork! Only a true genius could form this superduper superstar crime solving team."

"And I am honored!" Marie said confidently. "Mucho mas. I cannot wait to taste sweet freedom again!"

She turned to me. "And I ravish the thought of working with my wonderful chica Jack again!

I avoided her hypnotic gaze. Around Maria Santiago it was always best to lock up your heart. Just in case she was in the mood to break it like mine.

Excused from classes again, I took some time to vape in my carriage. PAL drove me over to the Smithsnorian Institute in a hurried manner.

"Oh dear," PAL said to me. "I can tell by the fumes that you are, well, fuming."

"Remember Maria Santiago?" I muttered. "After a short stint in the slammer, she's back."

PAL in his usual acerbic manner cut right to the chase. "That teenage prodigy who you had *ahem* questionable relations with?"

Like a dragon ready to breath fire, I blasted vapor out my nose. "It wasn't my fault,." I exclaimed. "It was a night I wasn't thinking clearly."

Admittedly, I had let a night out on the town, my own loneliness and a bottle of demon alcohol do the talking that cursed night. But it was Maria who had decided to play me like a sad fiddle. When the Smithsnorian Institute appeared in the window, I took another puff and sighed.

For many, the Smithsnorian lived up to its name in that it was snoresvilles. But I always had a thing for art in the romance era. I opened up the newspaper to remember which of the priceless Michelle Angelo paintings had been snatched. But as soon as PAL pulled up, I didn't need to recall.

The Smithsnorian Institute had giant stone steps leading up to white columned pillars. At the top, were marble statues of the elusive sphinx lion, a creature that riddled ancient society with well, riddles.

Everything looked respectable except for one thing.

The roof of the central wing was missing!

"They couldn't have…" I muttered, but it was true.

They had stolen the ceiling of the Justine Chapel! That famous ceiling had been imported from the ruins of said chapel itself, but it had been lifted away like a child taking the roof off a dollhouse.

This was gonna require one hell of an artopsy