A/N: Hola personas. I've put a lot of time into this little project. Lot's of planning and re-writing, so I hope it turns out good. Just to tell you, this idea came from watching a cop show last summer... and progressed into this. What an imagination I have. Anyway, constructive criticism is welcomed (although I'll probably hate you for it :P), so keep that in mind as you read.

Summary: Everyone knows the international code name Shen. The young man is a prodigious detective who never fails a homicide case. But what is his secret? How come he always knows how someone was murdered? Enter the life of the man no one really knows and discover a world unknown to the living.

Rated T for violence and language.

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September 24, 2009 [1:23 AM]

The dingy walls of Cafè Loccè were peeling, the crackly yellow wall paper unable to cover the gray cement-like panels underneath. A barely audible humming noise came from above, where unsteady fans spun, providing enough cool air for the entire enclosure. Three people sat on the wiry, black stools at the counter. One portly man sniffed again and shifted on the chair. The woman next to him, a pointy nosed and overly dressed person, made a disgusted face that no one seemed to notice, while the third person sitting at the bar turned to the next page of his stapled packet of paper that lay on top of a dark gray folder. He sipped the coffee he had ordered five minutes ago. It was already somewhat cold and merely tasted like dirty water, but the caffeine was satisfying enough to keep him awake from his sleepless nights.

Shen examined the next page carefully. A small photo of a five-year-old little girl with brown pigtails smiled up at him. Next to her picture was her name, blood type, date of birth, gender, and so on. As Shen read the information on the paper, the woman next to him turned her unwanted attention to Shen. She watched as the young man pondered over the file oh so diligently. She wondered if he was a private investigator or some creep planning his next kidnapping. Her hand traveled slowly to the cell phone in her over stuffed purse, tempted to call the police, but she then remembered the last time she overreacted. The woman stood up, briskly pushed her chair and scornfully walked out of the café. Shen made no recognition of this as he flipped back to the previous page where the girl's father’s personal information was listed. It's one of those cases, he thought, stuffing the packet into his file and putting the file into a brief case. Too obvious to even put any thought into it.

The woman's first theory about Shen was right. If she had asked him who he was, he would have taken out a shiny new id with his picture and the words 'private investigator' in gleaming, boastful gold letters. And when she saw his last nameless identity her eyes would have widened and she would have apologized sincerely for questioning him so rudely. The four-letter name Shen was a very popular name these days. It was common knowledge that Shen was a famous and prodigious detective. A person any criminal feared and every government organization wanted on their side. After solving the Kaichwon case in 2008, his name appeared repeatedly on every American, European, Asian, and South American television. But even though Shen was not what one would call 'a star', he kept a low profile. He didn't want paparazzi (although paparazzi would rather follow a famous actress rather than a genius detective) following him around, nor did he want a lot of attention or interns, or anybody interested in tracking him down and becoming his assistant or something like that. Shen was a very special detective because he had to do less than half of the work a normal detective may have to do to solve a case. And he wasn't about to let anyone know his little secret.

Shen stood up from his chair and thanked the waitress politely. She immediately looked up from her Vogue magazine and smiled, standing up and handing Shen his check.

"You look familiar... are you that detective they talk about on the news?" the waitress said, squinting her eyes as though it would help her distinguish his face better.

"No, I'm sorry. Many people think we look alike, but I'm not nearly as amazing as Shin... or is it Shen?" Shen said, chuckling a little to make the sentence seem lighthearted, and as though the comparison happened quite often. The girl put her finger to her lip and studied him.

"Strange, I swear you guys look identical. Well, sorry. Have a good day," she said shrugging. Shen suppressed the urge to tell her that it was past midnight. Instead, he nodded with a genteel smile and slid his black overcoat over his shoulders. He picked up his umbrella and swung it over his right shoulder. He walked out of the small café and into the frigid rain with his brief case tucked under his arm.

From behind him followed a young woman, appearing to be about the same age as Shen, 21. Her body was translucent, allowing light to pass through her but not the entire detailed background of 7th street. She seemed to give off a blue glow that contrasted with the dark atmosphere around her. Unseen and untouchable to nearly all humans, she walked through them without anyone noticing, except for Shen who could view the woman, but made no recognition of her doing so. He was used to the girl following him around. Seven years had passed like this and Shen was very much used to being able to see the spirits of the deceased.

The woman knew not to speak to Shen in public, even though no one lingered in the streets at this time of night. Since others could not see her, it would look very strange for Shen to be talking to something nonexistent. He pulled the collar up to cover his mouth, however, and let out a long sigh.

"This case is tragic one," he muttered. The woman floated closer to him and bent down and around, peering into his face.

"You look tired," she observed, turning back to looking straightforward. Shen looked up at her with a confused expression.

"Don't I always, Fenette?" he half-joked.

"True, but more than usual. I mean you're getting bags under your eyes now. It makes you look older," the woman, Fenette, replied. "Is it the case?"

"No, this mystery is easy enough for a child to piece together. All you need to do is read the information provided," he said as he approached a large, dark red door to Wilton Apartments, his temporary home for now. He reached deep into his pocket, rummaging around for his keys. He unlocked the door and stepped in. A blast of chilly AC air rushed straight through him, sending a shiver down his spine. Shen closed his umbrella and left it propped up against the cream colored walls of the narrow hallway. Fenette passed through the door and followed Shen down the hallway, up to the second floor, and into room 24.

Inside apartment room 24 was a dark and empty looking expanse. Shen had always hated the feeling of walking into an unlit room, especially with the rain pattering on the wide window, casting small dot shaped shadows on the floor made everything else seem alive. He flicked on the light, revealing a cluttered living room that lead to a walk in kitchen. Papers, books, and notebooks littered the floors and couch while food items were strewn across the counter. Shen sighed and walked in further, picking up objects and stacking them on the side table to the left of the brown couch located smack dab in the middle of the apartment living room. During the night, Shen did quite a lot of writing, reading, and research, and had an unbreakable habit of not cleaning up after himself. If only Fenette was alive. He could use a living, breathing woman around.

Beyond the kitchen were two doors, one leading to a bathroom, the other to a bedroom. Shen opened the door to the left, the door to his room, and clicked the switch to the lights. His room was somewhat neater, although the bed was unmade and clothes were scattered about, just like a lazy teenager. Shen slunk off into the bathroom, telling Fenette not to follow him. Ghosts could sleep (although they didn't really need it) so Fenette took her position in the corner of Shen's bedroom where she sat, knees close to her chest, and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

***

September 25 [3:13 PM]

Shen had been waiting patiently in the hospital lobby for over an hour. He had taken a comfortable position on the teal plastic chairs with his body twisted around to the left, his elbow on the windowsill so that he could rest his head in his hand. He watched as the afternoon rain hit the glass and gradually ran down. Fenette sat in an empty chair next to him, her legs tightly crossed and her arms folded against her chest. She watched as different people came and went. People-watching was her favorite thing to do when out in public. Shen did a good of pretending she didn't exist and truthfully she felt as if he didn't exist either.

"Um, sir, the body is ready. If you could just follow me," a voice said, shaking Shen out of his daydream. A small, timid looking girl smiled at him, beckoning him over to follow. Shen stood up ad flicked to of his fingers forward, telling Fenette to come with him.

"Are you Cecelia Smiths brother?" the lady asked as she led Shen to the autopsy room.

"No. Private investigator hired by the girl's family," Shen replied in a steely voice.

"Oh. Well, then I hope you find the killer. For such a young girl to be murdered, it just breaks my heart. You know, we don't get a lot of PI's looking to investigate bodies."

"I believe that the actual body provides many clues, especially when examined up close."

"Huh... well, here you go, Mr.... um, I didn't catch your name," the woman said, stopping at the door to the autopsy room.

"Kurt. Kurt Shammer," Shen said, using the name he had created as a cover in England. He had a name for each country, such as Hiro Sawaguchi was his name for Japan.

"All right, then. You have exactly.... an hour until we have to kick you out," the woman said, checking her watch. Shen walked in and closed the door behind him. A small lamp hanging over a table with a body and a blanket dimly lighted the room. Shen removed the blanket half way, revealing a very pale little girl. It was nice that she was unharmed on the outside. The last corpse had its eyes gouged out and it's body crushed in half.

Shen remembered the conversation he had had with the girl's father, Johnston Smith, the rich owner of Smith Paper Inc.

"Tell me, Mr. Smith, do you remember leaving the door unlocked when you left to go to the store last Tuesday?"

"Uh... um... no," Mr. Johnston Smith said, running his hands through his greasy hair, his eyes darting from Shen to the floor.

"Your body language would normally detects lying, but you honestly seem distressed. Truly and utterly unwell. Are you sure you can't remember anything from 4:00 PM to 5:00 last Tuesday, September 15th?"

"No! I'm sorry! I just can't remember anything at all, okay!?" Mr. Smith shouted, suddenly standing up with his fists clenched.

"I see," Shen said calmly. "Have you ever been diagnosed with short term memory loss or maybe Alzheimer’s disease? Do you take any medication?"

"Uh... yeah, I take pills every morning for stuff... I don't really know what for though..."

"Okay. That is all. I will be inspecting your daughter, Cecelia’s, body. I'll have this case solved tonight, I'm sure of it," Shen said, shoving his files into his brief case. Mr. Smith looked up happily.

"Thank you so much. When you find the killer, please let me know immediately," he said gratefully.

"You needn't worry about that," Shen replied mischievously as he opened the front door and left.

Outside, Fenette waited patiently. Shen had asked her to stay outside for this interview, which confused her a little. But she was somewhat relieved. Mr. Smith made her feel uneasy. She knew he was dealing with the death of his most beloved daughter and was emotionally scarred, but something about him seemed off.

When Shen stepped out of the house, Fenette immediately began asking questions. "So, was he helpful? Are you going to perform a soul summoning? Do you know who killed the girl?"

Shen walked past her without glancing in her direction and then uttered a single word, "Yes."

Fenette blinked. "Yes? To which question? What do you mean? Wait, where are we going?"

"To Berkley Hospital. Yes, I will be performing a soul summoning and yes I know who the killer is."

"Then why confront Cecelia Smith's ghost?"

"I want to make sure I'm right. And besides, she could be lost, wandering the earth without knowing how to get to the afterlife. It's only kind to help her," Shen said as he crossed the street. He spotted someone and quickly pulled out his cell phone as cover in order to speak with Fenette.

"That's sweet of you," Fenette joked. Shen glanced at her, frowning.

"Huh," he grunted, pulling the collar of his coat up and walking a little faster to try and beat the afternoon rain.

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A/N: Well, what do you think? Good? Bad? In between? I liked it, but that's just me. Anyway, your probably confused with some of the terms I used, like soul summoning. But don't worry it will be explained in the next chapter. Oh, and just to let you know, I'll be organizing the chapters like this:

Chapter 1: (whatever the title of the 'episode' or 'arc' is) part 1

Chapter 2: (whatever the title of the ‘episode' or 'arc' is) part 2

Chapter 3: (whatever the title of the ‘episode' or 'arc' is) part 1

Chapter 4: (whatever the title of the ‘episode' or 'arc' is) part 2

Chapter 5: (whatever the title of the ‘episode' or 'arc' is) part 1

And so on. Hope you get it. All right, until next time. I still want to hear some constructive criticism. I won't get discouraged if you tell me what you think (well, I'll try), but don't tell me 'Omg, ur story scked alot. dnt rite nymore,' because number one, you're the one who sucks, you can't freaking' spell! And number two, that hurts... in here *points to heart*.

And by the way, genteel IS a word.