Letitia Frankland leaned against a brick wall in a dark alleyway and took notes as Marisol told her about the death threat. She listened with concern, letting Marisol do all the talking. The woman spoke quickly, her voice trembling with fear and anger.
Letitia scrawled chicken scratch on her detective pad as Marisol spoke. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Rat monster. Interview. Death threat. Blah. Blah. Blah…
Rat monster. Interview. Death threat. Blah. Blah. Blah…“Thanks for letting me know,” Letitia said after Marisol finished. She was in the middle of a wiry doodle that she had grown quite fond of. “Have you called the police?”
“Not yet.”
“I would highly recommend it,” Letitia said.
“Are you going to cover this story?” Marisol asked. “I can visit you for an interview.”
Let
