The Mannequin's Secret
The shop had been closed for three days, but the light was still on. Jack Morrisey noticed it at 2:17 AM, walking home from a case that had gone nowhere—a missing cat in Brooklyn, paid in coffee and a thank-you note. He stopped on the sidewalk and looked at the window. Inside, the mannequin stood in the same position it had always been in: one hand on its hip, the other holding an invisible...
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