The body had been drawn and quartered, medieval style. Whoever the killer was, he had help, and he had horses.
“Have you started questioning the local farmers?” said Helmsley.
Sergeant Amory nodded, sipping from his coffee thermos. “The boys are searching all the nearby houses as we speak.”
Something moved in the undergrowth. Helmsley squatted and drew a squirming pup out by the scruff.
“The victim’s?” said Amory.
Helmsley shook his head. “No. The killer’s.”
“How do you know that?”
Helmsley put the pup in his backpack.
The radio crackled to life. “Sergeant, we’ve found the horses, and… a kennel.”