On the way home, Ichabod found himself to be overly paranoid. It seemed to him that many more women than usual were wearing blue dresses. He watched them as he walked past, hands in pockets of his long coat. Mostly they stared back, confused as to why a lowly Constable would dare look at them.

Upon returning to his house, he was startled to find smoke curling from the chimney. A thick, oily dread seeped into his consciousness. Please, don't let Masbath have been cooking. He opened to door, and the warm, luxurious smell of home cooking engulfed him.

Stepping further in, he found Masbath curled in an armchair reading a storybook. This in itself was suspicious, as Ichabod knew neither he nor Masbath owned such a book. It also looked brand new. As he entered the living room the boy looked up.

"Evening, sir."

"Evening, Masbath." He replied, absently. Ichabod continued through to the kitchen. Masbath smiled and settled back into his book.

The kitchen was full of smoke. The fire burned merrily in the hearth, with several pots bubbling cheerily over it. The large table was half covered with ingredients. Katrina stood by the fire, stirring a saucepan.

"Good evening, Ichabod." She spoke without looking up.

"How did you know it was me?"

This time she did look up. The smoke wreathed her smile and her cheeks flushed with the heat of the fire. She looked beautiful.

"Because Masbath was engrossed in his new book. And he always opens the doors quickly, usually with a bang. You open them cautiously. You are much quieter than he is."

This amount of observation startled him. He swallowed and nodded slightly. Katrina turned back to her cooking.

"What are you doing in the kitchen?"

She grinned into the flames.

"I'm cooking."

"Katrina that's a silly answer." His voice became more serious.

"Well, it was a silly question. You are the Constable, I would've thought it was easy to deduce I was cooking."

Ichabod blushed, and turned his face away. Katrina watched him, and set down her spoon. Smiling at his obvious embarrassment, she reached up to his face, and kissed him gently on the cheek. The colour in his cheeks only intensified, and she giggled, resting her head on his chest.

"You must stop blushing when I kiss you."

"Why? I can't help it."

"Because it makes me want to kiss you again."

She giggled once more, and looped her arms round his neck as he carefully put his arms about her waist.

"How was work?"

"Dreadful. My main suspect turned out to be a tool of the murderer. Then the other constables threw him into the pit."

Katrina lifted her head to look at him.

"Why did they do that?"

"Because they are ignorant. The justice system is a laughable collection of rules that don't work and don't get anyone anywhere, with the exception of lowly officers. As long as they throw enough men into torture or the pit, they get promoted faster than most of them can think."

Katrina, upset by Ichabod's black mood, kissed him lightly on the forehead, and guided him carefully into a chair. He slumped into it, staring dejectedly into the flames. Katrina skipped back across to the saucepan, giving it a final stir.

"Do not worry. I'm sure your logical mind will solve the crime."

Ichabod looked up at her, sceptical.

"I'm also sure the other constables don't do it out of cruelty. We cannot all be as great minded as you."

This didn't seem to convince him either. However, he brightened up as she lifted the steaming pot to the table.

"I reserve judgement on my ability to solve crimes. I will say, though, that neither mo or Masbath can cook as well you."

Katrina smiled again, and looked around the kitchen, remembering her previous visit.

"Yes, I must say you're right. Even if I do say it myself."