Blu sat at the desk in his office and read over the report.  He thought about the evidence at hand.  There was something off.  He reached for the phone, and typed in Dr. Cabot's extension. 'Viola? Harrison. I was wondering, could you double-check the purse? Yes, I think that there might be something in it, no, I'll be down.' Blu grabbed the report and walked out of his office. His office was one in a line of offices built along a narrow corridor, all with the same sick-coloured carpet and the same metal desks and the same safety glass doors. The corridor rather burst out into the upper main lobby of the police station. Blu descended the grand split staircase designed more for grandeur than democracy. He turned sharply to the left at the foot of the stairs, and descended the rubber covered stairs through the steel door in the wall under the grand staircase. At the foot of the short staircase was an alcove, with a snack machine in the corner. 'Thank you kindly no.' Blu muttered as he pulled open another steel door with a bullet-proof glass window in the center of the upper half.

'Why the purse?' Dr. Cabot set the evidence bag down on the steel topped table.

'It might be silly, but a thought. Beatrice's parents said she spent the night at the Carmichael's. Ophelia Carmichael insists that Beatrice had a talk with Fred Carmichael, then left, around ten thirty p.m. Ten hours later, Magnus Stark-Woolf discovers the body, and has no alibi, no information.'

'And?'

'Would there be a note? What do you know about these families?'

Viola thought a moment. 'The Stark-Woolfs are a terribly old family, made and lost their fortune in shipping. Built the house before the War of 1812. They sold the Copley double portraits when the stock market crashed to keep it. They don't do much of anything any more. The Thawnes made their money in construction, replica houses, you know? They're great friends with the Starks. Mrs. Thawne's family's from the west coast. Then come the Carmichaels. They are a real trip. Mrs. Carmichael died about five, six years ago, complications due to tuberculosis.'

'Consumption?' Blu asked.

'Mom-hmm. Then after the funeral, Mr. Carmichael went on a business trip to Acapulco. And never came back.'

'And the other neighbours?'

'The Wheatleys. Mr. Wheatley is president of one of the larger regional banks, and his wife works with local charities.'

'Attempting to repay their guilt?' Blu said sarcastically.

'No, I see them in church too. You should go, 'specially for the funeral.' Dr. Cabot said.

Blu shook his head, and slipped on latex gloves before he ripped open the evidence bag.

'What are you looking for?'

'My grandmother had a bag like this. She would keep Schrafft's hard candy in a little pocket, hidden in the seam just under the clasp.'

'What does this have to do with a murder?'

'This?' Blu found the pocket closure, and opened it. He slipped two fingers in, and carefully manoeuvred them around.

'You've obviously done this before.'

Blu ignored the ennui induced intimation. 'Found it.' He pulled out a folded paper.

'What is it?'

'Tell me what you think.' He handed the paper over to Dr. Cabot.

She opened the note, and read it. ''B, we need to talk. Meet me @ Prescott on the wharf near shaw warehouse. -M' It's on the Stark-Woolf letterhead, all their letters are on this.'

'It's typed. Why not just send a text or something?'

Dr. Cabot rolled her eyes. 'You're the detective. Magnus Stark-Woolf has a typewriter collection. Didn't you see the massive breakfront in their ballroom?'

'Of course the Stark-Woolfs would have a ballroom. I expect nothing less.'

'You missed out on some seriously gorgeous antiques then.' Viola gushed as she ignored even more sarcasm.

'Antiques roadshow aside, was this machine out of the possession of the the Starks?' Blu was impatient.

'He could have sent it out to be serviced.'

'And anyone could have accessed it then?'

'Considering the shop where everyone takes their typewriter, it's possible.' Viola handed the note over to Blu.

He glanced over it. The paper was good, but not expensive, and a photocopy of the original copperplate.

'They could have had that made up when they first started out. Some people say the Starks hated change so much they never changed anything in the business, and that's why it's failing.' Dr. Cabot snorted.

'And you...?'

'Oh I have no opinion. But I do know that the after hours crowd at the Athenaeum can be quite entertaining when it comes to Old Guard gossip.'

Blu grimaced. 'Quite. Can you tell me about Prescott? And what is Shaw Warehouse?'

'It's an old boathouse used by the Parks Association as a learning center. If anyone knows how to get in, well, high schoolers will be high schoolers. Of course, the cemetery near the Three Tree Island bridge was a particular favourite of my crowd. There were some particularly low, flat headstones.'

Detective Harrison pulled a face. 'So, there appears to be a note, and it might be genuine. So, let's assume for a moment - '

'Careful, you now what that makes of you and me.' Dr. Cabot opened a couple of new evidence bags. She set the purse in one, and Detective Harrison set the note in the other.

'Is there anything we could have missed?'

'I don't think so.'

Detective Harrison agreed.  'It's pretty cut-and-dried.  Magnus Stark-Woolf sent Beatrice Wheatley a note, typed on his typewriter, asking her to meet.  She tells her parents she is going to the Carmichael's house to sleep over.  She drops by the Carmichael's, talks a bit with Fred, then leaves.  She then meets Magnus in the Park, and while there, they argue, he knocks her down, she hits her head and dies.'

'But why take her home, and fake all that evidence?  Why not simply through her body into the harbour?  In fact, why knock her over or strangle her?  He could have just forced her over the edge, and she would have been drowned in a matter of seconds.'  Dr. Cabot posited as she set the evidence back into the lockers along the wall.

'What do you mean?'

'You know the saying still waters run deep?  It's more than just people.  The Piscataqua is the second fastest river in North America.  It averages about three miles per hour incoming flow, and nearly four outgoing.  So really, it would have far less painful for her to die being thrown over a railing.'

Blu studied the note.  'But she wasn't.  She was carefully arranged in the dining room of a reclusive family.' He paused. 'A commentary on the society of these families?'

'Did Magnus Stark-Woolf ever mention sending the victim a note asking her to meet him?'

Detective Harrison's answer was final, and sharp. 'No.'