After his talk with Sergeant Kleril, Wither had a strong desire for some fresh air, so he made his way back to the entrance hall. Before he even reached it, loud voices were audible through the entire corridor.

"I say, should've married you instead, Anna."

"Aye, at least yer funny, lass. Think I ne'er saw ol' Margret crack a smile just once."

"I could get rid of her for you. But it'll cost you."

The last words belonged to Anna Crissly. The other voices brast into laughter.

Wither walked around the corner and stood in front of three men and another woman, all in uniforms.

"Good day." Wither nodded his head.

"Looky here. The lucky winner of the Swindon Goose Chase." A middle aged man with blonde hair and mutton chops walked to Wither and shook his hand before Wither even had time to react.

"Richard Sterling. Welcome to the team."

"Johnathan Wither. It's a pleasure to meet you. I was assigned to the Skinner-Case."

"We know." A red headed giant with a thick beard raised his loud voice. "The ol' rook couldn't wait for yer arrival. Can't blame her for once."

Wither took a worried look down the corridor.

"I take it, you are not very fond of the sergeant?"

"A stuck up bore she is. She an' Richard's ol' lady would get along just fine."

"Oh, shut it, Gus", Sterling said.

The other two introduced themselves as George Pennywise and Emilia Frye. They formed the core group of police officers in Central Swindon, together with Mijan and Crissly. A small group that tried to manage the chaos in the streets.

"Thank goodness someone is finally taking care of that case. We would do it ourselves, but the gangs in the harbor and industrial district are keeping us busy day and night and we can't do anything except cleaning up one of his victims every two months."

Emilia Frye had brown hair and was in her thirties. She, Gus McGill, Anna Crissly and John Wither sat together in the pub near the Police Station, right at the Marked Place. It was noon and there were only a few patrons present. The officers looked at their respective drinks and cursed that damned city that seemed to keep them awake every hour of the day.

"Should I know about any gangs in particular?", asked Wither.

"The White Crows control the industrial district. They are our main concern in the city. Also if you ever see a fellow in a gas mask, stay away. They are a group of hired killers calling themselves Whalers. Unfortunately we don't have enough evidence to even prove their existence."

"Not to worry." McGill took over the conversation, while Frye had another sip. "The small fishes are our concern. Yer job is the pike."

"I'd be grateful for every piece of advice regarding the Skinner", Wither said.

"Don't get caught by him!"

"Thank you, Miss Crissly."

Crissly smiled like sunshine.

"Sorry, but like I said, we are all way to busy with our own cases. Gangs, Heretics, Corruption, you name it." Frye lowered her voice. "Don't get me wrong, something has to be done. But if the Sergeant hadn't made so much noise, you wouldn't have been called."

"I already had the impression that this whole case is very important to her."

"That's...well...it is. Her husband was one of the first victims of the Skinner."

"Goodness...I didn't know."

"Unfortunately, not even she has much information for you. But..."

"But...?" Wither leaned towards Frye.

"But...", McGil said, "If yer got the mo'ey...there might be someone."

"Excuse me?" Confused Wither looked his colleagues.

Frye leaned even closer to Wither.

"I hate to say it, but there is someone who might know the Skinner's identity. But she's, well let's say not exactly a legitimate business woman."

"Information Broker." Gus finished Frye's thoughts. "And she doesn't like the police very much."

"You can't be serious..." Wither waited for them to start laughing, but no one was smiling. No one except Crissly of course.

"For Crown's sake..." Wither sighed.

"What can I say?", said Frye. "Welcome to Sw..."

"I know, I know. So where can I find this fine lady?"

"Near the harbor. Place's called Cloverfield."