I waited for Ajax at the bar. I felt bad about what I told Jim, but I figured it was better to be honest with him. Better that he know my intentions up front, then rely on me to be there when I might not be.

Eventually, Ajax walked into the building with a triumphant grin. He saw me and quickly came over. “I think I might have something,” he said. “They wouldn’t let me take any evidence from the station, but I copied all the reports into my journal.”

Happy for the distraction, I cleared an area for Ajax to set his journal down. He quickly pulled up a map of the city. “These green dots are where the murders happened. Here is the bakery from yesterday,” he said, pointing at one of the small green circles on his map.

“And here,” he continued triumphantly, “is the track that our departed Slinger frequented.” He pointed at a red dot on the map just a handful of streets from the bakery.

Examining the map, I could see that all four of the green dots were fairly close to the horse track. I could see where Ajax was going with this, but I was still skeptical. The dots were definitely near the track, but that could be said of anything in a two-mile radius.

“You really think they are connected? It seems like a bit of a stretch,” I said, looking up from the map at Ajax.

“I haven’t gotten to the best part,” Ajax said grinning. “The woman that was murdered had betting slips on her person when the police found her. The first victim was carrying a newspaper that had the betting odds for that day. That’s three, including Slinger, out of four victims with a connection to the racetrack.”

I didn’t have much faith in the newspaper angle, but it wasn't like I had any better theories to hunt down. “Good enough for me, let’s check out some horse races,” I said, standing up.

An hour later, I was ready to bash my head against the brick wall of the ticket booth. Finding the track had been easy, getting useful information much less so. After the first ten minutes of trying to talk to the receptionist, Ajax had wandered off to look for clues. I gamely tried again.

“And you are sure there is not a manager or owner I could talk to? This is a very important matter,” I asked for what must have been the fifth time. I don’t know why I bothered, the answer was always the same.

“No sir, no races today. Manager won’t be in till tomorrow,” he said in his slow, mellow voice. “If you want to rent a stall or register a horse, I can help you out.”

“I don’t own a horse,” I said through gritted teeth. “I already told you that. I just want to find out about those betting histories. You must write down who bets on what somehow right?”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” he drawled. “We write down who rents stalls though.”

I doubted that would help much, but it was possible one of our victims had rented a stall. It was finally something at least. “Great, could I get the list of people that have rented stalls in the last month?” I asked.

“Oh, nah, that’s, you know, confidential.”

“Uuuuugh,” I groaned. I was surprised this guy even knew what confidential meant. “Can you at least tell me if a man named Slinger was here recently?” I asked.

“Couldn’t tell you, my memory’s not so good,” he said. His tone was an infuriating mix of apologetic and bored.

“Thanks for your time,” I said sourly before stalking off to find Ajax.

The track was nearly abandoned, probably because there were no races today. Besides Ajax, myself, and the receptionist, the only other people were a jockey and coach exercising a chestnut brown horse. I found Ajax exasperatedly wandering around the stables.

I was surprised by the lack of security, but there was hardly much to steal. The small stable was currently empty of horses, and there didn’t seem to be any feed or other supplies lying around. Ajax turned to me as I entered.

“Any luck with the stoner?” He asked.

“No,” I said with a sigh. “Any luck with finding clues?”

Ajax scowled. “Plenty of garbage, but nothing that would tell us why the Decoction Killer is targeting local punters.”

“Punters?”

“People that place bets, gamblers,” Ajax clarified.

“Ah. We still don’t even know if the killer really is targeting specific people. It could just be a coincidence,” I said.

Ajax looked frustrated by that but didn’t comment. “Either way, I checked the stands, stables, confection area, and betting boards. There is nothing useful here.”

“What about that building?” I asked, pointing at the small administrative building connected to the ticketing booths.

“Couldn’t get in. It’s locked up tight,” Ajax explained.

I doubted talking to the receptionist would be any help in that regard. Maybe if I could tie him up and dangle him from a rooftop, my ‘Persuasion by Ethos’ skill would make him more useful. As he was securely behind thick metal bars in his booth, that was an idle fantasy.

“I guess we come back tomorrow then, see if the manager will be more helpful,” I said defeatedly. Ajax nodded and we started walking back to the Bitter Flagon.

We were about half way back when three men stepped into the alley we were walking down. I had my shamshir out and buckler up before they even got within twenty yards of us. I had played far too many games to not see where this was going. Ajax was a little slower on the uptake, but readied his pistols when he saw my drawn weapons.

The thug in the middle, apparently the leader, stopped about ten yards away and brandished his club. He seemed a bit taken aback by our armed state, but quickly recovered. “Seems like you boys have made some enemies,” he taunted. That was all the invitation I needed. I charged.

The three thugs hesitated. Ajax didn’t. His first shot missed by inches. His second caught the rightmost thug’s center of mass and he went down like a puppet with cut strings. The leader of the thugs recovered fast enough to block the cut that would have split his skull.

He wasn’t fast enough to stop my buckler from smashing into his raised elbow. As his cudgel dropped from numb fingers, I stabbed low. The shamshir’s curved blade slid into his belly and up to his heart with minimal resistance. Pushing the with my buckler for leverage, I ripped the blade out of the dead man’s chest.

I turned to the last thug, my heart hammering and adrenaline pumping. Instead of attacking me, though, the last man stared at me in horror before turning and running. I began to case him, but stopped short when I heard a cry of pain from behind.

I whirled around to see Ajax on the ground, a fourth thug standing over him with a knife. Dismissing the fleeing thug, I ran to my ally’s aid. The knife wielder saw me coming, and pulled out a derringer. The little pistol cracked and my right bicep lit up with pain.

The man’s eyes widened as he realized I was not slowing down. He turned to run, but only got a few steps before I tackled him. His head made a hollow sound as it collided with the wall of the alley.

I scrambled up, shamshir gone, but knife ready. The thug’s head lolled bonelessly, his neck clearly broken. I put my knife away, grabbed my sword from the ground, and hurried back to Ajax.

My partner was in a bad way. The thug had cut his throat from behind. He had sawed into the windpipe instead of the artery though, and Ajax was choking on his own blood. He had managed to prop himself against one wall and was clutching his neck with his left hand. His other hand was wrapped firmly around his last loaded pistol.

I came up to him, breathless from exertion. “I got them, we need to get you to a hospital.”

Ajax gave a little shake of his head and coughed up a fountain of blood. In a sudden jerk of movement, he raised the loaded pistol and shot himself in the side of the head.

I just stood there, too shocked to move. Ajax’s corpse slumped over onto its side. Shaking myself, I realized what Ajax had done. We could respawn, good as new. Taking his own life probably saved him a lot of pain. It was probably even a good tactical decision considering we didn’t have easy access to healing.

It still made my skin crawl. Even though I knew it was a virtual world, suicide just felt wrong. Maybe I would feel differently if I was the one in excruciating pain. Still, I couldn’t see myself taking that option.

Speaking of pain, I looked down at my arm. Now that the adrenaline was fading, I could feel the gouge the bullet had carved through my bicep. Getting my chainmail off was a painful process, but I couldn't properly treat the wound with it on. Picking broken rings of mail out of my flesh was worse.

By the time I finally finished cleaning and wrapping the wound in a makeshift bandage, Ajax’s corpse had disappeared. The thug corpses were still there though, so I figured Ajax had respawned.

Ajax got back as I was looting the corpses. I would have been done earlier, but I had taken a few minutes to just sit and recover from the adrenaline of combat.

“Remind me to check behind us the next time we get ambushed,” Ajax said as he walked up.

“Planning on getting ambushed a lot?” I asked flippantly.

“In our line of work? Definitely. Still think the connection between the kill and the track is a stretch?” He said with a determined grin.

Considering that we had been ambushed immediately after questioning the receptionist, Ajax’s theory seemed pretty solid. “So what do we do now, pry the receptionist out of his booth and put his feet to the coals?” I asked.

“I have a better idea. I go back to the precinct, get the boys together for a police raid. I don’t know what they are hiding, but I don’t want to take any chances,” he explained.

I grinned. “Sounds like fun.”