His whole upper body was flat over the table, as though he’d been going for a tricky shot. There was a cue trapped under his torso and hands, and bright-coloured balls scattered on the green baize. His head was turned sideways, and the rounded handle of what looked like a bradawl made of silver protruded from his ear, though not very far. A thin line of watery blood had trickled from his ear, over his jaw, and down his chin to the baize, which was stained dark.

“Charming,” Kim said thinly. “Are you the Divisional Surgeon? Sorry to bother you.”

“Not much to bother about,” said the chap who was examining the body. “It seems he was leaning over to take a shot when the killer took the ice pick from the bucket over there, and whack.”

Will glanced over to see a silver ice bucket, the kind Kim used for cocktails. They usually held a big block of ice, and a pick for breaking chunks off it. Will had hammered away at ice for Kim a few times: his pick had a blade about four inches long and you could apply an awful lot of force through its sharp point.

“Just whack?” he asked.

Kim gave him a questioning look. The doctor said, “You were hoping for something else?”

“It’s just, he bled a fair bit, so he didn’t die at once,” Will said. “Doesn’t look like there was a struggle, but I was wondering if people heard him scream.”

The doctor glanced up, then straightened. “Not so far as I know. I believe the body was discovered by someone walking into the room to look for a game. Are you a medical man?”

“I was a soldier.” He’d been the kind that killed people without letting them scream, but he didn’t say so, and the doctor didn’t ask. Doubtless he’d met a few of Will’s sort in the past years.

“My colleague has a great deal of experience in hand-to-hand combat and its results,” Kim said. He was leaning over the table, squinting at the corpse’s outstretched arms. “Expand on your thoughts, if you would, Will? It may be useful.”