Red

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The yellow and blue detectives lay toppled between the dice: yellow on her back, gun pointed up at the sky, blue facedown on the sidewalk between the Library and the Jewelry Store.

“Sorry guys,” said Ansel.

“Good roll,” said his father, righting the figurines.

Ansel moved his own detective—the green one, as usual—two spaces down the board, turned left, and then four more, into the pharmacy. It was roofless, like all the other buildings in the game. The pharmacist stood behind a counter, hands resting on the glass. He was drawn in an isometric three-quarters view: a mop of auburn hair, tinted glasses, silk shirt with wide lapels, suede red pants that flared at the ankles.

Ansel played one of his Interrogate cards—Did you know the MISSING PERSON?—and then drew an Answer card from the Pharmacy’s stack. It said:

“What you got there?” said his father. “Something good, I’ll bet.” He looked at Ansel’s mother. “He’s got something good there.”

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