The detective stepped through the caution tape. “Another 187, huh?”

The girl’s body was still sprawled out, her eyes closed. She looked oddly peaceful, contrasting the utter mess that the room, filled with vomit, accelerant, and caution tape, was.

“That’s what I think,” the cop said. “My preliminary analysis, for what it’s worth: She was poisoned, and someone tried to make it look like that lamp over there—” The cop pointed. “—decided to take a nap on the carpet. Sprinkler systems foiled ’em though.” He gestured at the vomit. “Can you guys use that?”

“I dunno,” the detective said. He whistled for one of his assistants. “Bag a sample of that and give it to Hobson. See if we can’t validate our law-enforcing friend here.”

One of the others was down in the alley below. “Sir!” he said, holding something in his gloved hand.

The detective leaned over. “What is that, a ring?”

“Yeah! There’s an engraving in it—some names.”

“Looks too large to be hers,” the cop mused.

“Bag it anyway,” the detective ordered.

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