Inspector Hurry Hamelin had checked with the notification squad set up, spread the word around to anyone he thought would keep an eye out, and checked every possible target he could think of since being tasked with the Mayor's threat case. He reviewed the reports from his squad as they went about their businesses.

Something caught his eye. He frowned at the aether mixing in the air outside his office. It reminded him of the residue after a weapon spell had been fired. He frowned at the fading stream. He thought it resembled the air around Weselton's exploded car.

He sat back in his chair. It wasn't helping with his case for him to consider Weselton's case. The problem was if he was right, someone in the department had opened fire on Snails and killed him while he had been pulled over.

A policeman was the best suspect for something like that.

What happened if Weselton started looking in that direction? No one would like it. Weselton would be labeled as a rat. The rank and file would close ranks to protect their own from the murder squad.

Weselton had to know that might be where his investigation might lead him so he had a chance to stall things until the demon summoner threat was gone so the inspector could take the blame for anything he might turn up. Everyone knew his reputation.

He closed cases and he didn't care who he went after to do it. You could do a lot of other things in the city, but murder meant standing trial and taking your punishment.

“Detective Weselton,” Hamelin said to the aether. A connection snapped into being between them. Someone might be able to listen in, but this was as private a conversation they could manage at a distance.

“I'm here, Hurry,” said the detective. “What is it?”

“I think when Percy takes the signature spell apart in your case he will find that it belongs to a policeman,” said Hamelin. “If that happens, I expect you to tell him to keep his mouth closed about it until we have a suspect.”

“What makes you say that?,” said Weselton. At least he didn't jump to the defense of their unknown policeman.

“Someone is walking around here in the office with an aura of discharge,” said Hamelin. “It reminded me of what I saw at the scene. If I am right, then we will have a major problem when this comes out.”

Weselton groaned through the connection. He saw the problem just as clearly as Hamelin.

“Wait,” said the detective. “We have signatures on file. I can find this signature if it is one of us.”

“Only if he filed it,” said Hamelin. “But it has to be looked at so we can say we looked at what every policeman could do with a fire spell.”

“I might get lucky and find a suspect,” said Weselton. “Even if the signature is altered, I might be able to tie what the lab has to someone.”

“Be careful, Sonny,” said Hamelin. “If it is a policeman, he might not want another policeman dogging him while he acts as a vigilante. He might not draw the line at getting rid of you to keep his own actions underground.”

“You don't have to tell me,” said Weselton. “Snails was blown apart.”

“Be careful,” said Hamelin. “Call if you need help.”

He cut the call. He looked at the notices on his desk. No one had found anything about owls, or had sold too much summoning gear.

He had no clue on how to proceed with his own case. His ability to trace things was useless without something to latch onto at one end.

Chamberlain Butts was still looking around in Modelin. He had found two other victims from the town that had been stabbed. His reports said he was still trying to find out any connection between the victims.

The obvious connections didn't lend to motives for murder in Butts's opinion. There had to be something else there that no one wanted to talk to him about. He just had no idea what it could be from the small amount of information he had gathered together.

Hamelin didn't have any suggestions for him. The weapon was as blank as the scene according to the forensics people. The murderer could be carrying it around in front of the detective, but it wouldn't register to him.

On the other hand if Butts stumbled over someone, he could expect to draw his sword to deal with it.

Weller was at her desk on the other side of the room. He wondered how her fake werewolf case was going. The Reservation would not like someone besmirching their name. They also wouldn't like slow going in a case like this.

He expected a complaint to be filed as soon as things got out and they learned about the impostor.

He decided to talk to her about her case and maybe take her down to walk the scene again. Maybe they could turn up something new on the scene.

He walked over and stood there until she looked up at him. He smiled at her.

“How's your case going?,” said Hamelin.

“Nowhere,” said Weller. “How's your thing going for the Lord Mayor?”

“I have eyes out, notifications to all the ingredient shops, and wards on the obvious targets,” said Hamelin. “There's not much more I can do until I have an idea of where our extortionist will strike. I was wondering if you would show me your crime scene.”

“Really?,” said Weller.

“I could just look at it without you,” said Hamelin. “I would rather hear what you thought about what you found.”

“I have nothing else going on right now,” said Weller. “Let's go down and look at it. Maybe you will see something I missed.”

“All right,” said Hamelin. He strolled to the elevator to head down to the front door so they could translate across to the crime scene. Weller grabbed her jacket and fell in beside him as he stepped inside the elevator's cab.

“Why the interest?,” Weller asked.

“I'm bored,” said Hamelin. He watched the numbers of the elevator indicator as it descended. “I'm at an impasse, so I want to work on something else to keep the brain operating so when my case gives me a break, I can jump in with both feet.”

“Switching cases help you with that?,” asked Weller.

“More often than not,” said Hamelin. The doors slid open. He started walking. “I don't think I can do more than what you have already done, but just going over the scene might give us something we can use.”

“Do you go over the scene repeatedly?,” asked Weller.

“All the time,” said Hamelin. “Sometimes something will become important after some digging and you don't know what until you look at the thing where it belongs.”

He grabbed the aether and yanked them across the city. They stepped out in the yard outside the crime scene tape and sealing. Weller held up her badge to unlock the scene for them.

“The victim is inside,” said Hamelin. “Scene reconstruction?”

“Forensics thinks he came through the door before she had a chance to defend herself,” said Weller. “No signature. Magic inside the scene was low level consistent with a reader.”

“Definitely the target?,” asked the Inspector.

“From the looks of things, but I couldn't uncover a motive for this,” said Weller. “The victim, Madge Madrigal, barely talked to anyone other than her editor from what I can find. She paid for everything through the net, didn't go anywhere, didn't have any visitors according to her neighbors.”

“Let's go inside,” said Hamelin. He opened the door with an unlock spell and stepped inside. He walked to where the body had fallen and looked around.

The room had been partially destroyed by the attack and he couldn't tell if anything was missing. He turned around slowly, hands in his pockets.

“I can't tell if anything is missing,” said Hamelin. He stepped back from the marked spot on the floor. “The door looks like it was knocked aside from the charge into the house. Heightened strength is still in effect from what I can see. I am going to try to reconstruct the action.”

Weller stepped back to stay out of the area of the spell. Forensics used the same sort of thing when they could to examine the crime scene. The inspector snapped his fingers compared to the burning of essence straws and reading of smoke.

A ripple slipped through the air following the snap. The victim sprang to life in front of the door. She acted as if she was annoyed at someone casually knocking on the door. The moment she slipped the chain on the door to tell whomever outside to leave was the end of her.

“He took the necklace she was wearing,” said Hamelin. “I doubt he pawned it. He probably still has it. It's the one thing that will link him to the scene so we can send him away.”

“This is a random, isn't it?,” said Weller.

“We might have to wait for another murder with the same signature,” said Hamelin. He looked around. “Eventually he will give us something we can use. I wonder if he had some connection to the victim before he became a fake werewolf.”

“She was a writer that barely left her place,” said Weller.

“Even writers make unknown enemies,” said Hamelin. He snapped his fingers again. The sound built up pressure as it flipped through the belongings that remained in the apartment. Madrigal's image put a letter in a holder on her desk.

“Let's see what's in the mail,” he said. He crossed the room, leafing through the papers in the mail holder. He found bills and three personal letters. He zeroed in on the one with the vitriol and accusations of plagiarism.

“I think when we find the writer of this letter, we will find our culprit,” said Hamelin. He ran some spellwork on the front of it. He shook his head. “He cleared the paper after he put it in the envelope.”

“I can partially track it back,” said Weller. She pulled on a glove, produced a clear bag for the paper. She stowed it and sealed the bag for evidence use later.

“All right,” said Hamelin. “You said that you thought the werewolf drove away.”

“My extension thought so,” said Weller. “I don't have a reason to doubt her.”

“Can you show me?,” said Hamelin. “If we can get one more clue out of this, it might be enough to pinpoint an area we can flood with warrants.”

“It's in the back,” said Weller. She led the way out of the house. She used her badge to seal the house again. “It's near the point of entry to the yard.”

They walked to where Weller's ectoplasmic hound had lost the trail. She waved her hand at the curb near the gate. Any number of cars could have parked at that curb since the murder. She didn't expect the Inspector to be able to find anything.

“Let me hold the letter again,” said Hamelin. “I'll show you a forensic trick the lab guys should have thought about using when they were here.”

She handed over the bag of evidence. The inspector raised it to his forehead. Then he snapped his fingers. The image of a small van appeared at the curb. It was a faint thing without color, but the detectives had a model and make to add to the letter.

“How did you do that?,” Weller asked.

“I used time to give me something we can use,” said Hamelin. He handed back the letter. “See what you can do about tracking the letter down in areas where a van like that operates. Don't try to take this guy on alone. Just find him. Weselton and I will back the play, with Special Weapons backing us.”

“You can control time,” said Weller.

“Only a minute at a time,” said Hamelin. “Good luck with your search.”

“How many Konsho Kois could there be in the city?,” said Weller.

“I have no idea,” said Hamelin. “Let me know when you find out.”

He reached into the aether and pulled them back to headquarters. He smiled as he started down the street. His case was not going to be solved from his desk no matter how much he would like that.

He needed an angle he could pursue. A walk would help him with that.

“Hurry?,” asked Weselton.

“I'm here, Sonny,” said the inspector.

“We had another one,” said Weselton. “I just got the notification. I'm meeting Percy at the scene.”

“Let me have the address,” Hamelin sent over the aether. He nodded at the answer. “I'll be right there.”

He reached into the aether after cutting the connection with his detective. He pulled himself across the city to a parking lot of a small store. A crowd of patrolmen and lab guys were on the scene. He spotted Weselton and Berlin consulting away from the mob.

He walked over to talk to his people. He looked at the exploded car. If they were right about a policeman committing the murders, then it was easy to see how he was doing it.

He pulled the victim over. When he approached to ask for identification, he was actually getting close enough to kill them with his overclocked spell. Then he pulled away and let the victims be found by Joe Public.

How did they narrow it down to one policeman out of the thousands that worked the city?