Emery was, quite naturally, tired when Hassett arrived to pick them up for work the next morning. After all they hadn’t slept for much of the night. However, there was a great deal of work to do and so, tired as they were, the boys didn’t complain.

“So far the only evidence we have is that tuft of fabric,” Emery said during their morning briefing. “I can tell you what it’s made of and the age of the fabric. I can tell you the company that manufactured it and the dye-lot it came from. I can even hazard a guess as to what it came from. However, I obviously don’t have anything to compare it to so I can’t match it to a person as of yet.”

“There was a trace amount of cinnamon on it,” Miles said.

“Cinnamon?” Morrissey said, perplexed by the revelation.

“It’s part of a chef’s jacket, cinnamon isn’t a strange thing under those circumstances,” Emery said softly.

“A pastry chef… cutting people up with a butcher knife,” Morrissey said. With a shake of his head, he murmured, “Now I’ve heard everything.”

“Might not be a pastry chef, cinnamon can be used in meat dishes too,” Emery pointed out.

“My mom makes a mean chili with cinnamon in it,” Hassett interjected. Emery nodded and smiled at the older man.

“Cinnamon chili?” Morrissey asked.

“Can’t tell you how,” Hassett replied with a grin. “Secret family recipe. I’ll start investigating the restaurants in town. We have a description, thanks to Emery, that should give us a good starting point.”

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