Constable Marquette toed the body with his boot-tip, lip curling in disgust.

"Look at that," he said emphatically, raising his phosphor lantern high and bathing the mutilated corpse in an eerie blue light. "Almost empty. We're going to have to get a stretcher. Make that a barrel."

He chuckled grimly. Ensign Druthers beside him made a face; Marquette could be so distasteful. Still, he saluted smartly. "Right away, sir."

As the fire crew worked steadily behind them, dowsing the fire with careful application of Pushed and Pulled water, the ambulance carriage arrived to pick up the body. Identification was easy - she had a metal security pass around her neck for a section of the government laboratories. Quick file work and a short communique with a seer in the Archives confirmed that the departed was a one Geraldine Decatur, a former associate of Professor Birch.

From the fused ashes of the building, the Seventen extracted the charred remains of several books, but nothing of any value was left.

"Find that son of a bitch and arrest him," muttered the Constable to Druthers. "Popped off his assistant and then burned the evidence, from the looks of it."

"How'd she find her way out here, then, sir?" asked Druthers timidly. "In the bushes? Couldn't have dragged herself, sir..."

Constable Marquette groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I don't have time for this," he said irritably. "Two more mutilation murders in the Dives this evening. It's obvious this bastard was behind them."

"But sir," protested the ensign, against his better judgment, "I've seen the spectragrams, and they don't match up, the method, sir. See, the mutilations in the Dives were done like with teeth, you know, like an animal. And this..."

He glanced down at the body on the stretcher as it was lifted out of the bushes and carried towards the ambulance.

"This is something else, I believe," he said tentatively. "Maybe it was an accident."

"Maybe you should close your head," said the Constable rudely. "You just stop talking about things you haven't any clue about, understand? We're not in charge of that investigation. We'll have to wait until the new Inspector arrives."

Ensign Druthers shifted his feet sheepishly, looking back at the charred remnants of the office building. Behind him, the ambulance rode off with the clip-clop sound of horse hooves on cobblestones. A chill came over the young man as he took in the scene of destruction; was this a portent of more horrible things to come?