Baker Alley in Ankh Morpork was famous for two things. Firstly, it was the home of the bakers of the deadliest Dwarf bread in Ankh Morpork. Their flat bread had the smoothest surface of any lethal throwing object to be found on a battlefield and, therefore, had the longest range. Their paninis could also club a Troll into unconsciousness with only a couple of well placed blows. Baker Alley was also famous for the occupant of apartment 221B. An occupant who, at this very moment, is staring out of his window while engrossed in making 'the' most awful caterwauling sound with a violin.

Sheerluck Combs was a rather lean man who stood just over six foot tall. His dark hair was beginning to thin slightly on top and his habit of greasing it down just made his angular face seem all the thinner. Dark, piercing eyes didn't really help either, nor did his badly broken nose that he hadn't had set properly so that it now protruded from his face like some extinct bird's fat beak. He had also taken to wearing white shirts with beige checked waistcoats and matching trousers. As well as a bizarre looking Deerstalker hat.

In beige check.

Sitting in a large comfy chair on the opposite side of the room sat Combs' companion and life-long friend, Doctor Flotsam. Flotsam was an elderly gentleman in his late fifties. His mousey brown curly hair was now turning more to grey than brown. His craggy face had a pair of blue eyes that still managed to twinkle behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and he kept his greying moustache very neatly trimmed. Although also partial to white shirts, Flotsam's choice of clothing was more in keeping to a man of his age and profession. He wore tailored suits.

"I say Combs," said Flotsam while lowering this mornings edition of The Times, "is it really necessary to torture that thing further? I dare say if it's got a tune in it, you would have wrung it from the poor thing by now."

Combs turned to Flotsam. "Practice makes perfect, my dear Flotsam."

"Oh, really?" Replied Flotsam. "Well, carry on then, you need all the practice you can get by the sound of it."

Combs suddenly stopped 'playing' and lowered the violin while raising his head slightly. "We have a visitor, Flotsam. A young woman I'll warrant, wearing a blue dress with boots to match the fashions of the day. A woman of breeding too, judging by her walk."

There was a tentative knock at the door and Flotsam stared at it before turning a surprised look on Combs. "Preposterous! How can you possibly know all that?"

"Telemetry my dear Flotsam." Said Combs.

"Elementary Combs." Replied Flotsam. "The word is Elementary."

"Whatever. I could tell by the sound of her footfalls on the wooden staircase outside our door. They belied her graceful movements and feminine step."

"And her blue dress?"

"I saw that when she got out of her coach a moment ago." Replied Combs. He quickly continued. "Well, don't stand there dawdling old chap. Let her in."

Flotsam stood and moved to the door while Combs placed the violin in its case. Flotsam showed the young woman in.

"Thank you sir." Said the woman as she came and stood in the living room. She stood, wringing her hands together as she gazed at the two men with red-rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry for intruding, but something terrible has happened."

"My dear child." Said Flotsam as he guided the distressed woman over to his chair. "Please, sit here and tell us what has happened."

Combs sat in another chair opposite the woman and gazed at her. He crossed his legs, rested his right elbow on his thigh and then rested his chin on his thumb while touching his index finger on the end of his nose.

"My name is Gwendolyn Osgood…!"

"One and only child of Squire Wilberforce Osgood and his good lady Wife, Bessie." Said Combs without changing position. "I know your family well. How are your parents?"

Gwendolyn fought to fight back fresh tears. "My poor Father is dead sir, murdered in his own home in the middle of the night."

Flotsam stepped forward with a stricken look on his face. "Egad Combs, what villainy is this?"

"Calm yourself Flotsam." Said Combs, his eyes never leaving Gwendolyn. "Tell me all that you know and leave out no detail, no matter how small or trivial. For once we have eliminated all that is probable, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must… give us a better picture of… what we're facing. So to speak. If you… know what I mean." He glanced up at Flotsam and turned quickly back to Gwendolyn. "So, details girl, give me details."

Gwendolyn also glanced at Flotsam before continuing. "I really have nothing to tell Mister Combs. I went to bed early last night and slept soundly. When I woke up this morning, I found his body in his study. He had a dagger in… in his neck." She covered her mouth as she began to sob.

Combs leaned forward. "I'm sorry, but I need details Miss Osgood. Describe the dagger to me."

"I.. I don't know, I didn't really look. It, it was a plain dagger really. There was something on the blade, some scratches I think. But the hilt was just plain black with an ordinary hand guard, nothing ornate or anything. I didn't really..!" She buried her face in her hands.

Flotsam put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I say combs, enough is enough, what!"

"Yes Flotsam, quite." Replied Combs thoughtfully. "Just one more thing. Have The Watch been informed?"

"Yes." Replied Gwendolyn. "There are two Watchmen with Mother now and more are on the way."

Combs nodded. "I dare say our dear Commander Vimes will be one of them. This being his 'manor' and all. Very well Miss Osgood, you run along home and pass on our condolences to your Mother and myself and Flotsam will be along presently."

"Yes, and thank you Mister Combs, Doctor Flotsam. Thank you both." Said Gwendolyn as she stood and made her way to the door.

When she had gone, Flotsam turned to Combs as he spoke. "The game is afoot Flotsam! Gather your things, we leave straight away. We have one stop to make before we go to the Osgood home."

Flotsam narrowed his eyes as he stared at Combs. "You know something already Combs, don't you?"

"All I know is, we can rule out the Assassin's Guild."

"How do you know that Combs?" Asked Flotsam as he put on his coat.

"Sedimentary my dear Flotsam."

Flotsam sighed. "Elementary Combs, elementary."

"Yes, quite. They wouldn't dream of using an 'ordinary' blade for an inhumation like this. In order to discover the 'who' in this mystery, we must first discern the 'why'."