The Scene of the CrimeMature

Miss Lark had a carriage waiting a short ways down the street.  Seymour offered a hand to help her in before climbing in after her.  Cedric followed and sat on the bench seat beside his uncle, facing the woman.

They rolled off, leaving Seoc asleep in the apartment with only his demonic pet for company.

Cedric looked out through the carriage window, watching Brysail crawl by.  The streets were jammed with pedestrians, carts and buggies of all sorts, and the going was slow.  Vendors waved and shouted at passersby, trying to peddle their wares.  Some went so far as to knock on the glass window through which Cedric viewed them.

When they reached their destination, they found it already swarming with uniformed men.  "You called in the police, I see," Seymour remarked--one of his least impressive observations to date.

"Of course," she replied.

Once out of the carriage, they were approached by a sour-faced, balding man with a dark blue cloak and black cap.  "We meet again, mermaid."

"And a good morning to you, too, Inspector Crowlinger," Seymour responded pleasantly, ignoring the mermaid comment.  "Any leads so far?"

"None but the forced door and a bit of mud on the floor."

"Hmm.  Did you check the backyard?"

"Yes, actually."

"And found nothing?  That's odd, indeed."  He trailed off, a thoughtful expression on his face.  "Well, to business then."

With a swish of his cloak, Seymour strode to the scene of the crime.

The End

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