Work Text:
The humidity clings to Jessica Fletcher's linen blazer the moment she steps into the lobby of the Casa del Sol, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd. Across the room, Heinz leans heavily on his cane—left arm gone below the elbow, right leg prosthetic clicking against marble—while Perry signs *Too crowded* toward the gallery brochure in his hands.
"Small world," Jessica muses, spotting them.
Heinz lights up. "Jessica! Perry was just explaining how this Matisse lies about its own brushstrokes—wait, are you here for pleasure or murder?"
"A murder, I'm afraid."
Heinz grins. "Oh, we're so helping."
Perry sighs, already drafting a text to OWCA.