The desk had been splattered, but most of the water had sprayed below the desktop. The papers were orderly stacked, but riffled, appearing as if someone was handling them, but not franticly. If someone was going through them, he was methodical. I determined they were all shipping invoices. They were grouped by fish type and dates. It would not be possible to infer anything was missing, unless you knew what should have been there and wasn’t. There was a pen set, photograph of the dead person and some elderly couple, by the resemblance I would take to be his parents, a calendar, an inkstand and used blotting implement. There were ink stains on the blotting felt, which I examined closer through my lens. “Hello!” I exclaimed to myself. There were several drawers that included office supplies like blank paper, rubber bands and such. There were a few coins in the center drawer along with paper clips, stamps and such. Nothing was revealing. I went back to the papers scattered on the floor. They appeared to all to be contracts. None appeared to be invoices. I went and stood at the foot of the corpse and looked at the pattern of dispersed papers. I then went to the corpse again and shifted him from his back to his side. “Hello!” I murmured once again, and set him back down. I examined the bookcase and saw that all of the remaining papers were orderly put in methodical sets. A group of papers that must have been those scattered on the floor were from a break in the sets. Another group that were also inventory, appeared to have some missing that were from a particular range of dates. The former group of contracts seemed to break two sets of dates. I went to the safe and inspected it for any scratches that would indicate trying to break into it and found nothing. As the inspector has said, the contents could have something missing, but a quick inventory did not indicate what should or could be but was not there. The chairs did not reveal anything. The desk chair was pulled back, as if someone had been sitting there, but pulled out to walk away. This could agree with the story line that Mr. Rawlings was working at his desk, or that someone else was that he came upon. The visitors’ chair was off to the side, indicating no visitors had recently been seated to converse with the desk owner. I did not find any handprints on neither the walls, nor windowsills, nor any footprints under the windows to indicate entry or exit by that manner. With all of the mess from the aquarium strewn about the floor and staff and police treading said mess, I could not make anything out that could indicate a struggle. I did note that someone, presumably the inspector had made it around the room and inspected the windows as I had. I was finished gathering my data, now I sat on the edge of the desk and reflected. I know what I was looking for. Since I did not find it there, I was confident I could retrieve it in one other place. I told the officer in the hallway they could now call the coroner, and walked down to the kitchen. Inspector Morrish looked expectantly at me as I entered, and asked if I would now like to interrogate the two staff. “Briefly,” I replied. “Would you like to use the front living room and who would you like to question first?” Morrish asked. “I don’t believe that will be necessary.” I stated. I strolled over to the portly cook. “Mrs. Shultz, did Mr. Crankers request a hot meal, and did he help you light the stove?” I curtly inquired. “Why yes, now that you mentioned it, I was just going to serve up some cold sandwiches, but he whined about being soaked from the spilled aquarium water and a warm meal would be ever so much more nice.” “Inspector,” I declared, pointing my finger, “The butler did it!” In fact, Crankers intently stared at the stove when I mentioned it, immediately became agitated, suspecting I was on to him and made a mad determined rush for the back kitchen door at my declaration. The Inspector had had him under observation and jumped, grabbing Crankers by his legs. They both crashed into the back door, which gave way, and both tumble into the back yard. The cook screamed and ran to the opposite corner. The hallway constable had heard the commotion and rushed into the kitchen and joined the Inspector in the back yard in subduing Crankers, having pulled his Billy Club from his belt. I had left them to restrain Crankers, and rushed to the stove, grabbing a pot of tea off the kitchen table, lifting a lid on the stove and pouring the tea on the still smoldering wood and papers. I pulled the wet tea stained remnants of paper and brought them to the table, I swept aside the leftovers of the lunch and smoothed out what remained of the papers. The other constables had joined in the scuffle in the back yard. They hadn’t been considerate of their prisoner, since his flight confirmed his guilt in the murder, and he had put up a fight by slugging the Inspector in his escape attempt. I saw that we would not be questioning him until he regained consciousness, and then I suspected he would not eagerly divulge anything he knew.