Arcturus followed the madam up the backstairs, used by the staff of the Velvet Lantern, to the second floor. He felt eyes on him and caught sight of a few of the other working girls peering around doors. He nodded to one of them, doing his best to seem professional and to exude confidence. He wasn't sure if it worked or not. Madam Trus'ell indicated one of the doors, handed the detective a key and backed off a few steps. Unlocking the door and stepping in Arcturus noted a chill in the room and looked around. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting but even still he felt surprised. He initially saw no signs of struggle, barely a thing out of place, the only evidence of any disturbance at all was the mussed sheets on the four poster bed which had been marked with the outline of a small humanoid. Likely the City Watch had used a spell charm, since he doubted that any one of them that the commanders would send down here would be capable of casting even such a basic cantrip. He walked around the outskirts of the room and allowed his intuition to speak to him.

The first thing that came to him was the faint smell, layered under the perfumes and powders on the vanity as well as the incense the former occupant burned was a ripe smell, like pork left on a market stall too long. The detective recognised it; rotting flesh, but wondered why. The body was found a mere few hours after her demise, according to the watchman and Arcturus could think of no plausible reason why such a smell would be here. Secondly, as he rounded the corner of the four poster he spotted a small window at head height, for ventilation likely, and saw that it was smashed. A faint dusting of glass fragments littered the top of the wardrobe that obscured the portal. Arcturus sighed. Either the watchman was so incompetent that he missed the smashed window or, more likely by his estimation, ignored it in favour of trying to get out and pass the case off as quickly as possible. Either way it was a telltale sign of the lack of effort and care put forward by those so called guards that made Arcturus feel sick.

Still, he thought, the window was too small for even a Goblin to squeeze through. No humanoid capable of inflicting the wounds described in the report could. Given that this was the most likely point of ingress, Arcturus needed to examine other options. He reached for his belt, opening a pouch and extricating a small phial. It was stoppered with a piece of waxed cork and the liquid inside was faintly luminous, blue and surprisingly viscous. Arcturus popped the cork and swallowed the thick liquid. It reminded him of nothing less than treacle without the sweet taste, instead faintly bitter but otherwise flavourless. As soon as he drank the potion the colours of the room became muted, like paint fading over time, and his surroundings became faintly luminous. Arcturus first filtered out the lavender haze that always appeared when one detected magic in Orthond, a by-product of the Necrotic rain and the nation's proximity to Armistice, and the auras of his other enchanted Items and potions.

 Scanning the room under the auspex of his new sense he noticed very little. The light stone Lantern that lit the room burned red with evocation magic, as expected, and it seemed like the victim had a magic mirror from the aqua blue aura of Illusion magic on it. He saw no traces of green conjuration, the type of spell he was expecting to see, that would have followed a summoned creature or familiar had they been used to do the deed. Nor did he see any unexpected conjuration residue had the killing been accomplished via a magical construct such as Mage Hand or the like. In fact he saw no magic for which he could not account given the presence of Items in the room at all. This left him a little at a loss, with few leads to help him determine his next move. He would interview the other prostitutes, but their statements to the watchman made him think they would not have much to say. Then he would have to visit the watchstation to investigate the corpse, which might be the only piece of evidence he was likely to have access to.

Almost an hour later Arcturus was done with the Bystander interviews. None of them had heard or seen anything unexpected, Lyra had not been acting strangely nor had any of her regulars and they could think of no-one who would wish her undue harm. These were the types of cases he hated the most. Whoever killed her was smart enough to cover their tracks, even against the methods employed by the Justicars, and that meant that they would probably neve be brought to justice. Arcturus would do his best, of course, following any lead that the case presented but he had a sinking feeling in his gut as he made his way back up town. The watch station was on the edge of Down-side, near the tram station and his own office. It was a black stone edifice five stories high, crested with battlements and ringed with magical observer gargoyles. It was built to inspire fear and respect from the population, but in the past century the Orthond city watch had become nothing but a corrupt joke in the eyes of the citizenry. Sure some people still feared them but it was the innocent, with no connections to protect them from the predations of corrupt watchmen, more often than it was the criminals that quaked in their boots when the guardsmen came around. Arcturus stepped up, straightened his duster and steeled himself for the ordeal that was about to come...