“Well…” Taliya trails off, her voice trying to remain upbeat but ending somewhere closer to deadpan. “This seems like a mess.”

The dead body doesn’t comment, not that Amari really expects it to. Would be helpful, though.

“No clear signs of death,” she comments, not entirely sure her friend is paying attention. Like she thought, the thief soon wanders away, disinterested in the scene they walked into.

Amari surveys the scene again, taking in the opulent room with new eyes. Everything seems exactly as one would expect a politician’s office to look like, disregarding the body. The magical wards they broke through to get in weren’t previously tampered with, so whoever did this was let in or was so good they left no trace.

“It’s fresh, at least,” is all Taliya says as she starts rifling through drawers for valuables. “Don’t have to put up with the smell.”

“Smell…” Amari kneels down, stretching out her magic just enough to get a reading of the space. She senses no immediate danger to them, which is good if uninformative. As she said, the body has no clear signs pointing to the cause of death. No evidence of a struggle, just an inelegant collapse to the polished floor. Definitely someone he knew.

“It’s probably some kind of poison or drug,” Amari mutters to herself. She inhales to try to get a scent of anything, and all she’s getting is the smell of the ocean. Not very strange for a coastal city. “When you can’t overpower someone, you have to take that power away from them.”

“Nothing was taken, though,” Taliya adds wryly, stuffing her bag full of cash from the wall vault she’s opened in record time. “Everything’s been generously left for us.”

“So this was likely political or personal,” Amari rubs her chin, thoughts whirling. “Maybe both.”

Since she has gloves on already, the woman doesn’t hesitate to inspect the body’s pockets and hands for clues. She avoids touching his wings out of some warped feeling of respect. The only item of interest she finds is a crumpled receipt for coffee, but what catches her eye is the scribbled note on the back.

DR K—832 SKYWARD

A shortened name, for a doctor at that, and an address. Fascinating. From the date on the receipt, this has been kept as a reminder for nearly a week, which explains the faded edges and soft quality of the paper.

It could be nothing. Amari wracks her brain for the street name anyway. It’s… Ha!

The Merchant District and Lower District both have a street called Skyward. One’s an avenue that doesn’t help the mix-ups that happen very much. The Merchant District would be the clear answer, given the address seemingly belongs to a doctor. However, Amari knows the area referenced in the Lower District. It’s well-known for black-market dealings. There are far more ‘doctors’ there than in the other sector. Some of them even have real doctorates instead of magically forged ones.

She and Taliya already know this particular politician had a taste for illicit things, and this confirms what she already knows.

And a doctor would know countless ways to kill someone surreptitiously…

She could search the Lower District’s black market for answers, but that would be exhausting. Pretending to be a customer to whoever this ‘Dr. K’ is could work, even if the idea leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. That would require pretending to be one of those stupid rich kids from the Upper District crossing the river for a ‘fun night out.’ If Amari had to do that, she would also have to kill all witnesses immediately out of sheer embarrassment. Technically, it would solve the problem. Plan B.

“Hey,” Taliya says, catching Amari’s attention. The thief’s bag is nearly overflowing despite being magically capable of carrying more than it should, and she’s taken the other’s bag at some point too. “I have the correspondence. Are you done messing around?”

Amari blinks, suddenly back in the present. Right, she remembers, this murder has nothing to do with her. “Ah, yes. You’re right. We have a drug lord to catch.”