Grand Guginol

“Said he’d have it today.”

“Bad break, then,” Bart said, that damned upper crust sneer curlin’ his lip. “Bobbie on the beat caught wind of a rotting smell an hour ago. Found the man inside with his throat cut.”

I frowned a little. “He weren’t nothing special, he sure weren’t rich, so who’d want to kill ‘im?”

“Maybe he did it himself, seeing as we found the dagger in his hand.”

“That all you find?”

Bart frowned at me as if he weren’t sure whether or not to tell me. Then he shrugged and said, “Found a couple of leaves of sheet music. Dated back fifty years.”

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