He bowed to analyze the body. A piece of dark string got underneath a messed-up fingernail was the solitary proof it yielded. Barely telling. Which man among the get-together had not been sporting dark? Preparing himself, Beheim moved the body. The tissue had stuck to the stones and made a frightful sucking commotion as it was lifted away. There was next to no interest covered up underneath it. More blood, and pieces of the torn nightdress. He assessed the pieces, however having no magnifying lens, he couldn’t take in a single thing from them. Feeling vulnerable, disappointed, he got to his feet and started moving carefully about, peering at the twilight stones. When he had altogether investigated the enlightened part of the turret, he got down onto his hands and knees and looked through the shadows close by the divider, testing the breaks with his fingernails. He had covered almost 50% of the space when he recognized a shard of broken glass. Not far away lay more splinters and bits of glass, among them the neck of a little container to which a silver cap was fastened. It was, he understood after looking into it further, an amazingly old container, likely a collectible, and deciding from the size, it had presumably held scent. A whimsical capital letter was engraved upon the cap, however, time had worn it away, leaving just a twist unblemished, and Beheim couldn’t figure out what the letter had been. U or N, maybe. Perhaps a V. He turned the cap again and again in his grasp, then, at that point stashed it and proceeded with his inquiry. However, there could have been no further disclosures. Three pieces of information. The container cap, the blood—someplace in the palace would be covered up bloodstained evening garments—and the way that the guilty party had been a man. A sorry premise whereupon to start an examination. Beheim realized he would require karma… karma and a lot of difficult work, a large portion of that to be refined by the Family’s workers. He would set them to looking for the wicked garments on the double, and to looking for the proprietor of the jug cap; he would contemplate the aftereffects of Agenor’s drive concerning the whereabouts of Family individuals during the early hours of the morning. However, what could he set himself to do? There was an upsetting thing about his re-making of the wrongdoing… something about the mind flight specifically. How the moon had looked. Since he considered the big picture, he reviewed that the moon on the previous morning had taken after this current evening’s moon: little, brilliant, and simple past full. But to the killer, it had seemed swollen and enormous. Maybe he experienced a burden of the eye. Or on the other hand, maybe he had been tanked before tasting the Golden, and accordingly effectively subject to perceptual bends. The two prospects, he chose, merited investigating.
By and by he analyzed the silver container cap. It was impossible that the young lady had been conveying it—there were no pockets in her nightdress. Yet, how might the killer have been doing a container of fragrance? Beheim sniffed the cap. A fragrance clung to it, however not of scent. An unforgiving acidic smell. Medication or the like? A medication with which he had conquered the Golden’s buddy? However for what reason would he have tried to utilize drugs when he had a characteristic fitness for influencing humans to his will? Also, where was the partner? Likely folded in some cleft underneath the palace, flung there from a high window. More workers would be expected to look through the slopes; with every one of the sheer drops and gorges hard by, the body may have stopped some separation from the palace dividers. However, the container, presently. What could it have contained? Beheim scoured the chunk of his thumb across the leftovers of the engraved letter, coming increasingly more to feel that the response to this inquiry would enlighten any remaining inquiries. It was conceivable the container steered clear of the homicide, that it had been lying there for quite a while before the Golden and the killer had placed in their appearance… however not for long, in any case, there would have been no scent. Yet, he didn’t accept this to be so. The silver cap appeared to hold a vibration, a lingering quake of the viciousness that had happened upon the turret.