[ WP ] A detective makes a deal with Death . He has 48 hours to discover the who , what and why of a murder case , and if he does he can bring the victim back .

I was a good friend of Ms. Seven, once upon a time. From her odd name to her goal-oriented personality, I would admit that there was a time I was drawn to her. Of course, being her best friend, I grew tired of these things quickly. Bianca Seven was the child of one of those celebrities-you know, the ones who changed their names to become more famous. She always said she would change it back one day. 
 
 I suppose she never would. It was a hard case for me-I really should have just let it go. That was, however, before an apparition appeared to me. 
 
 Death. Detectives embraced the concept, being people who converse with the dead through forensics. But there was more to Bianca than science, more to her life than its eventual end. 
 
 To me, death was a beautiful, ethereal concept. But this time, it appeared haggard. Real, ugly, but most of all undeniable. 
 
 A crippled, homeless man using a gleaming scythe as a crutch. 
 
 He smiled, then. `` You used to talk *through* me, but I suppose now you'll know what it means to talk *to* me.'' 
 
 ``... Who are you?'' 
 
 `` Come now. You know that already. I am *Death. *'' He grabbed higher on the scythe's handle and pulled himself up slightly. `` And I think you're looking for a deal, hm?'' 
 
 I nodded slowly. Truth be told, I knew next to nothing about the case. 
 
 `` Who. Why. What.'' He tilted his head, rather jerked it slightly to the left. `` How, for bonus points. Figure it all out and I will bring her back to life.'' 
 
 I did n't want to agree all that much, but I found myself doing so. 
 
 -- - 
 
 The crime scene was a rather odd thing. Our number one suspect had been in holding from the start-a man, the victim's boyfriend, laughing in almost catatonic fashion in front of the crime scene. 
 
 The roof had collapsed. There was a scent of smoke on the inside, but it was raining. Seven's body had been excavated from near the center, the pantry. She was n't killed by fire, it seems she was n't even near it. It was the debris that got her in the end. 
 
 Seven's boyfriend, Dylan Kader, had n't been near the crime scene at the time. He had a solid alibi, and everything. 
 
 The reason he was in holding was that I remembered Seven telling me that they were down on payments, having trouble. That was the only point of conflict I'd known of. But she'd also said that Dylan had n't seemed to care at all. 
 
 I knew by nature, Seven was materialistic. Her upbringing, while positive, also relied on seizing as many assets as possible. As fast as possible, as well. 
 
 That could really tick a guy off. I walked into the holding cell. 
 
 `` Crime of passion, Dylan?'' 
 
 `` That'd sound right, if I was the one who did it.'' 
 
 I narrowed my eyes. `` Any ideas on anyone else?'' 
 
 `` Nope. But I should tell you that it probably was n't anyone else either.'' 
 
 ``... If you know that much, why are n't you saying anything?'' 
 
 `` I ca n't. It'll reveal unpleasant things about our life.'' 
 
 `` Are you saying it was a suicide, then? Or maybe you're saying it was an accident?'' 
 
 He shrugged, noncommittally. `` Yes.'' 
 
 That was strange. 
 
 -- - 
 
 The other reason we suspected Dylan was because he collected a massive lump sum on life insurance and house insurance. But when I questioned him, he was almost as confused. He said that if anyone took out life insurance, it was her, but for what reason, he had no idea. 
 
 I was back at the scene. 
 
 There was a mechanical remote. It was nearly out of power, but later testing showed it to be a C-4 detonator. After we found that out, we noticed detonated powder charges all across the ground floor, at every pillar, the kitchen, and inside the laundry machine. 
 
... She always said that she hated the noise of the washer. How about that. 
 
 But everything seemed to make sense. The remote detonator connected by Wi-Fi, allowing Dylan to detonate it from miles away. Fires in the kitchen caused by a gas line explosion. Motivated by life insurance and possible rage over... well, I do n't want to say her *personality... * 
 
 Dylan had stayed at a hotel for the past 3 days. To avoid being caught anywhere near it, it seemed. 
 
 -- - 
 
 `` So it was a crime of passion, Dylan?'' 
 
 `` No. You... do n't understand. It was her fault! She sabotaged the house to kill me and collect life insurance on me but when I figured it out, I... I...'' 
 
 `` You... turned it against her, you mean.'' 
 
 `` No no *no. *'' He cleared his throat. `` I noticed her setting up... dangerous things in the house for a while, so I told her I was going to book a hotel. She let me do it, probably so she could ensure her success.'' 
 
 He laughed again, the same hollow laugh I'd heard at the crime scene. `` And when I came back, the house had crumbled.'' 
 
 Ah. 
 
 So, then... in the strangest terms, it could be called a suicide. But it was an accidental death at best. 
 
 `` I see... Then, I rest my case.'' 
 
 It would n't be too bad. I upheld my end of the deal. 
 
 -- - 
 
 It was midnight when I left the courtroom. 
 
 Bianca basically just appeared when I reached the last set of doors. The first thing she said was rather unexpected. 
 
 `` Death.'' She called. An old man appeared from thin air. `` Did you uphold your end of the bargain?'' 
 
 ``... You failed yours.'' 
 
 `` What happened? It was foolproof.'' 
 
 `` You'll find that it's harder to cheat death than you'd think. Dylan was supposed to die that day- your deal with me was more of an insult than a bargain.'' 
 
 I called. `` Hang on. A deal -- what deal?'' 
 
 Death looked at me, a toothy grin on a pale face, having no place on a being with such weak features. 
 
 `` Our *deal*, so to speak, was that if no one figured out the circumstances of her death in 48 hours, I would bring her back to life. Her plan was to collect the life insurance and then make a'miracle' to bring her back. Her lover, slated to die, would be spared his fate. It... well, it angered me.'' 
 
 Death's features became more ugly. It occurred to me how *real* a concept death was, not something fantastical like I used to think. 
 
 `` Because people ca n't cheat death like that. That's why we have agents, such as you.'' I gulped. 
 
 I looked around. Dylan was waving at me, puzzled at the reappearance of Seven. 
 
 `` It's a little late, but I suppose it's time for him to cash in.'' 
 
 A truck's horn. White lights. 
 
 Pale red on the dark ground.
