The next morning, there was quite a commotion around a nearby room, and Archimedes was forced to beat some commoners about the head with his walking stick to get a better view.
Inside, Dr Beschizza lay on the floor, his chest cut wide open, surrounded by a pool of blood shaped oddly like Finland.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Archimedes, “He owed me five dollars!”
The Mayor arrived, handkerchief over his face, which Archimedes thought made him significantly more pleasant to look at. If only he could find a full-body handkerchief. And some perfume.
“This’s terrible!” gasped the Mayor, “Just like Mr Zucker! Murdered innis room at night when nobody seen it, sometime after ten-thirty!”
“What happened at ten-thirty?”
“I fell ‘sleep atta telescope.”
“Hey duck,” said Finley, wobbling through the crowd in a bleary-eyed stupor, “What’s going — oh wow! Is that Finland?”
“Dr Beschizza was murdered, Finley.”
“Oh is that what happened! And here I thought it was a game of charades gone too far. Say, let’s pick his pockets. He owed me ten bucks.”
Fig. 7: There is a thriving cottage industry dedicated to the trade of blood spatter shaped like countries, the most valuable collector\'s card worth nearly two hundred dollars for a man whose remnants accurately depicted the Catholic nations of the world in a tidy row.
