From: David Johnston 
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Magnesite:

Business was slow.  Truth is, business was always slow
in Crystal Tokyo.  Luckily I didn't have any competition.
I was the only private investigator in a city of millions
of people.  Millions of honest citizens who trusted each 
other so much it would make any youma, want to toss 
his cookies.  Fortunately I don't eat anymore, at least,
not food. 

Still, even in this tinkertoy paradise, there are some
liars, some cheaters and some people who just want to let
someone else handle a problem.  That's where I make my 
living if you can call it that.  For them it's like 
donating blood.  Go home, take a nap, good as new.  For 
me, it's survival.  Once every couple of months somebody 
comes in, willing to fork over some lifeforce to find 
out if their significant other has another, or maybe 
just to ask me to track down poor Fluffy who's gone and 
got lost.  Titanite once sent me a copy of an old film 
named "Ace Ventura".  Not funny.  

What was even less funny, is that the old stand-bys weren't
standing by any more.  People were keeping better track
of their pets and jewellery.  We were in the middle of a 
serious outbreak of domestic harmony and personal 
responsibility.  Forget about an actual criminal case, 
the last one I'd been able to get had been something 
like fifty years ago.  It was enough to shake my faith 
in the imperfectibility of humanity.  

Sure, I could tell myself it was just a slow spell, but
that wouldn't help me keep psychoplasm and soul together
until business picked up again.  Counting on Margrave to
be generous enough to tide me over was a bad bet.  I was
already deeper in hock to her than I liked to think about
and she didn't even know how to spell "generosity" at the
best of times which this wasn't.  Her business was 
steadier than mine, but a bigger market just means more
potential for competition.  That's where "Helen Troy" 
came in, until somebody took her off the playing field,
permanently.
_________________________________________________________

It wasn't hard for Hino Rei, Sailor Mars, to tell she was 
at the right place.  The two young foot patrol officers 
outside the apartment looked distinctly ill.  In fact
one of them was so ill that he didn't even notice her
her distinctive red and white short skirted uniform from 
his bent over position.  The other swallowed 
uncomfortably and saluted.

She nodded in response and asked, "Who's in charge in 
there?"

"Lt. Zenigata, ma'am."  

She hadn't really needed to ask.  As the most experienced
officer in Public Safety, Zed supervised all the homicides 
and life-threatening assault investigations in Crystal 
Tokyo.  Oh yes, they still happened even in a supposed 
"utopia".  Utopia is a relative concept.  If murder 
attempts become a thousand times less common, do you 
have a utopia yet?  If improved emergency services and
enhanced medical facilites make it even less likely that
the attempt will succeed, are you there yet?  Rei didn't
think so.  "Better" wasn't "perfect" and her job gave her
an in depth view of every imperfection.

She walked in and took a look around.  Not just a murder
but a really messy one.  Vital fluids decorated the 
walls in macabre patterns like morbid abstract art.  Rei 
clenched her teeth and concentrated on not embarassing 
herself.  The two community patrollers were too young to 
have ever seen a murder scene in the line of duty, much
less one like this and she was sure they would be 
keeping the P.S.O. therapists busy for the next few months 
at least.

Zed nodded to her, cooly.  He was a chubby balding man
who disdained the cosmetic spells that so many inhabitants
of Crystal Tokyo used.  "Sailor Mars?  What brings 
you to something like this?"  His lack of welcome was 
understandable.  Security took precedence over Public
Safety.  Mars was the only person in Crystal Tokyo 
able to take an investigation away from him and she could
do it at a moment's notice.  

"Helen Troy was considered a low-grade security risk."

"Really?  If you don't mind me asking, why would that 
have been?"

"Her background was a blank, she was an immigrant,
and she knew magic.  That's enough to put someone on my
list."

He laughed a little and jerked his head at the forensic
magician just finishing a divination ritual.  "Does that 
mean that Rogan is on your list?  He knows magic and 
he's an immigrant, after all."

"He was when he first arrived, but at least in his case
we know who he really is and where he comes from. ."

"Good thing.  I'd hate to think my most valuable man was
down as a security risk."  It was true.  One of the things
that kept Crystal Tokyo such a law abiding city was the
knowledge that getting away with a reported crime was
almost impossible thanks to divination.  A little 
post-cognition and the murderer or thief would be 
revealed.  Actually investigating crimes in the 
old-fashioned sense was virtually unnecessary, except to 
provide a little corroboration once you had identified
the perpetrator, and to fill in the psychological 
background for rehabilitative purposes.  

Rogan approached the two of them and bowed respectfully
to Mars.  "I'm honoured to meet you, Sailor Mars."
His eyes on her were almost worshipful.  Not surprising,
really.  Rei remembered reading in his file that he'd
organised a local fan-club for the Senshi before coming
to Crystal Tokyo.  

She smiled and said, "I understand that you are an 
exceptionally gifted forensic magician."  Rogan wasn't
a bad looking young man, she noted.  Rather handsome in
fact, with rather long brown hair and blue eyes.  His 
manner almost reminded her of...

No.  Rei refused to emulate Makoto.  For centuries 
Sailor Jupiter had been projecting the image of a boy 
who had really been a jerk on any man who interested her.
This boy...man...was nothing like Yuuichiro.  Still, 

He looked guilty as he confessed.  "Not in this case I 
fear.  I've tried everything I know, but have gained no
useful information.  The killer knows magic, and 
apparently after the initial frenzy carefully obscured
what had been done."

"You don't mind if I have a look at things, do you?"

"I'd welcome your intervention, Sailor Mars," he said
earnestly, "If you can't do it, nobody can."  

As it turned out, nobody could.  The flame she summoned
looked impressive as it floated in the center of the room,
but the visions it revealed were fragmentary and focused
entirely on the victim being clawed to death and not the
killer.  Her vision hadn't been so obscured for a good
nine hundred years.  Feeling Rogan at her side, straining
himself for a look at what she was seeing hadn't helped,
but probably hadn't made a difference.  

Still, she shot him a glare.  He wilted under it, knowing
perfectly well that his effort had produced nothing but
a little distraction for her.  Pyromancy wasn't numbered
among his skills.  

"Sorry," he offered.  "I'll...get out of your way." 
Zed seemed to be ignoring both of them as he talked 
quietly to a forensic technician.  Rogan walked past them
on his way out, but his departure didn't really make a
difference.

When the flame went out, Zenigata turned back to her.  
"Did you get anything?"

She shook her head, "Nothing your technicians couldn't 
figure out on their own."

"Perhaps less,"  Zed noted, with a hint of satisfaction.
"They found this."  He held up an evidence bag containing
bloodstained strands of white hair, some long, some quite
short.

Mars had a strange look in her eyes as she peered at the 
discovery.  There was an expectant silence, and then she
said:

"Margrave." 

Zenigata nodded.

    Source: geocities.com/tokyo/temple/1810

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