Most HR departments frowned on the discussion of religion. By necessity the Sunday Group maintained a fairly hands off policy in such matters. It was always a little difficult to police such thing when any number of nameless cults might be involved. Eleanor had seen any number of deities invoked over the years, from the ineffectual "please god help me" variety to the sacrifice the virgin to the eldritch abomination with profane chanting. Often enough the first was a direct response to the second.  

"The particulars of Magus Yesha aside..." Eleanor began and then took a deep breath.

"I believe Clive is right," she paused for a moment, relieved that reality did not choose that moment to collapse in on itself.

"I think we might have learned all we can here, for now anyway," she continued, pulling her grisly morticians robe off over her shoulders and tossing it into the sanitary bin with a wet plop.

"Lets take a look around the site the body was found."

_______

Eleanor nibbled on her donut. The black raspberry filling squelched between her teeth, reminding her unpleasantly of the ink that had suffused the body she had so recently disected. Likely this was Clive's idea of humor and she determinedly chewed on rather than give him the satisfaction. They had pulled up in front of a four story brick building that had been converted from a stately home to an interior design studio. Pleasant trees spread out over a road that was remarkably quiet for being only a couple of blocks from the lake shore in one direction and the University of Chicago in the other. An extended gravel parking area and a sign which declared the building to be 'Hyde Park Interiors' was all that set it off from its more clearly residential neighbors. There was no police tape or homicide investigators on the site. The only thing that marked it out as the place a body had been found was a trail of ink and a discolored patch of gravel. Chicago PD either hadn't gotten involved, or had been somehow pulled of the case by the Sunday Groups mysterious connections. Eleanor wondered if somewhere a clerk was filling this as a piece of performance art or some other innocuous non-incident. Unconsciously Eleanor cast a look to the west, wondering if Emmaline were lecturing on the transformative properties of the Mandlebrot set or some other equally arcane mathematics.

"Well," she said after a moment, "What do we think?"


[hider=The Crime Scene]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/3Ny1nNu.png[/img]
[/hider]


[hider=Synopis]
We move to the crime scene between the University and the Waterfront
[/hider]