The troll scratched his head. "Well, "cos dey wanted him dead, I reckon. Dat"s a good reason."
"And why would anyone want him dead, do you think?" Reg Shoe could be very, very patient. "Has there been any trouble?"
"Business ain"t been so good, I know dat."
"Really? I"d have thought you"d be coining money here."
"Oh, yeah, days what you"d fink, but not everyfing people calls a Sonky is made by us, see? It"s to do wid us becomin" - " the troll"s face screwed up with cerebral effort - "jer-nair-rick. Lots of other buggers are jumpin" up and down on der bandwagon, and dey got better plant and new ideas like makin"em in cheese-and-onion flavour an" wid bells on an" stuff like dat. Mister Sonky won"t have nothin" to do wid dat kind of frog and days been costin" us sales."
"I can see this would worry him," said Reg, in a keep-on-talking tone of voice.
"He"s been locking himself in his office a lot."
"Oh? Why"s that?" said Reg.
"He"s der boss. You don"t ask der boss. But he did say dat dere was a special job comin" up and data put us back on our feets."
"Really?" said Reg, making a mental note. "What kind of job?"
"Dunno. You don"t - "
" - ask the boss," said Reg. "Right. I suppose no one saw the murder, did they?"
Once again the troll screwed up its enormous face in thought.
"Der murderer, yeah, an" prob"ly Mister Sonky."
"Was there a third party?"
"I dunno, I never get invited to dem frogs."
"Apart from Mister Sonky and the murderer," said Shoe, still as patient as the grave, "was there anyone else here last night?"
"Dunno," said the troll.
"Thank you, you"ve been very helpful," said Shoe. "We"ll have a look around, if you don"t mind."
"Sure."
The troll went back to his vat.
Reg Shoe hadn"t expected to find anything and was not disappointed. But he was thorough. Zombies usually are. Mr Vimes had told him never to get too excited about clues, because clues could lead you a dismal dance. They could become a habit. You ended up finding a wooden leg, a silk slipper and a feather at the scene of a crime and constructing an elegant theory involving a one-legged ballet dancer and a production of Chicken Lake.
The door to the office was open. It was hard to tell if anything had been disturbed; Shoe got the impression that the mess was normal. A desk was awash with paperwork, Mr Sonky having followed the usual "put it down somewhere" method of filing. A bench was covered with samples of rubber, bits of sacking, large bottles of chemicals and some wooden moulds that Reg refrained from looking at too closely.
"Did you hear Corporal Littlebottom talking about that museum theft when we came on duty today, Buggy?" he said, opening a jar of yellow powder and sniffing it.
No. ;I"ll just take you into the Mildly Yellow drawing room where you can wait," he said, walking him towards the door and patting him on the arm in a friendly way. "The coaches are loaded up. Sybil is re-grouting the bathroom, learning Ancient Klatchian and doing all those other little last-minute things women always do. You"re with us in the big coach."
Skimmer recoiled. "Oh, I couldn"t do that, sir! I"ll travel with your retinue. Mhm-mhm. Mhm-mhm."
"If you mean Cheery and Detritus, they"re in there with us," said Vimes, noting the look of horror deepen slightly. "You need four for a decent game of cards and the road"s as boring as hell for most of the way."
"And, er, your servants?"
"Willikins and the cook and Sybil"s maid are in the other coach."
"Oh."