The next morning, Archimedes went to submit a patent application for “a method of mutilating the vocal cords of fish using electrical currents and Jamaican rum” directly to Mr Johnson.  But when he arrived at the room, he was shocked to discover the man who had previously been missing a leg was now missing a head as well.

“Wow,” said Finley, “Removable limbs.  Some people have the best ideas…”

Archimedes noted a letter opener embedded in the wall, and Mr Johnson’s head embedded in the fruit bowl.

“Finley… are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Well yeah,” said Finley, “But I don’t think you can strictly call it a fruit salad if there are brains in it.”

“No,” sighed Archimedes, “I have a feeling Mr Johnson was murdered by the same villain that killed Dr Beschizza and Mr Zucker!  Someone who obviously harbours a deep-set hatred of the upper class!  A despicable transient sociopath!”

“Hey!  I’m a despicable transient sociopath!”

“Yes, but more specifically, I hypothesize that our murderer is not, in fact, a fish at all, but a hobo!”

“Donkey Dung Jack diddit?” gasped the Mayor, who was suddenly at the door, “Harry!  Donkey Dung Jack killed ‘nother onna them guests!”