Kynnes & Sharp: Private Investigators, cheques, money orders and coal all accepted

The heat was intolerable, he could barely stand being in the same room as his companion, but alas, there was little to do but complain. He was stuck with him, thats just the way it was. He let out a sigh, opened his briefcase and removed an unfoldable stool, which he proceeded to setup and sit on while he waited for his companion to finish taking notes about the crime scene.

To an outside observer, the man (whose name badge referred to him as Private Investigator #902 - Arthur Kynnes) appeared to be fairly average. He was dressed in the stereotypical garb of the private investigator; a large trenchcoat with deep, dark pockets. He had short, curly black hair, which combined with his thickly-rimmed glasses managed to hide most of his face. He was cleanly shaven, though he displayed a little stubble this late into the night.

Sat on his stool, twiddling his thumbs, he looked like an impatient midget compared to the hulking mass of his companion.

His companion, whose namebadge referred to him as Private Investigator #903 - Mr. Sharp, was a large, 8 feet tall cylinder of metal roughly 2 feet in diameter. On the sides of the cylinder hung several segmented metal arms and at it's base similar tenticular legs and a set of wheels. The top of the cylinder was lined with various pipes emitting a stream of steam and smoke. At that moment, Mr. Sharp turned around and his numerous arms folded away a clipboard and pen into a compartment in his front. He turned several lenses, which served as his eyes, upon Arthur and emitted voice.

"Something here is highly irregular Arthur. I've never seen anything quite like it before. It certainly isn't a suicide as the police seem to think."

Arthur fanned himself with a hand as Mr. Sharp leaned over him and the heat from the burner set in his front like a fiery mouth washed over him. Sweating profusely and wiping a now slightly sooty hand across his forehead, leaving a dark smudge, he packed his stool away into his briefcase and have a silent nod.

"What makes you say that Mr. Sharp?"

"Well, my conclusion that this is not suicide is based on the fact the victim appears to have been nailed to the ceiling, Arthur. I don't think the poor woman could have managed that herself."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked up, grimacing slightly.

"Yes, that is rather odd. Stranger things have happened though. I suppose we had better head to the station and report our findings Mr. Sharp."

With that, they both headed out of the small back-alley flat and out into the gas-lamp lit streets of Gastown.

The End

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