Scharde and Glawen returned outside and went to the truck.

Scharde glanced briefly into the control compartment, which was discouragingly stark and clean.

"We'll find nothing here."

Glawen had pulled aside the canvas curtain at the back, allowing light to play into the empty cargo space. An inch-thick carpet of elastic sponge covered the bed, with a pair of planks four feet apart running the length of the bed, apparently to accommodate the wheels of a loading dolly.

Scharde jumped up into the cargo space and looked about.

Almost immediately he noticed stains at the center of the bed, halfway between the two lengthwise planks. Scharde bent his head and examined the stains. They were dark red in color and might be blood. Without comment he went to the forward end of the bed; dropping to his hands and knees, he examined the floor area inch by inch. Glawen also noticed the stains, but held his tongue. With nothing better to do, he looked about the control cab but found nothing of interest, and returned around to the rear, just in time to see Scharde pluck some son of object from where it had caught on the splintered inner edge of the left-hand plank.

He asked: "What have you found?"

"Hair," said Scharde laconically, and continued his search.

Glawen could no longer tolerate inactivity. He climbed up into the cargo space, and began his own search in an area Scharde so far had neglected: the crack, or seam, where the elastic sponge met the side :

panel. Before long he made a discovery of his own and gave a sad exclamation. ;

Scharde looked around.

"What did you find?"

Glawen held up a black and orange fragment.

"A bit of butterfly wing."

Scharde took the bright wisp and placed it into an envelope.

"There's no longer much doubt about the time and place."

"Just the' who

The two searched half an hour or so longer and Scharde found another tuft of matted fiber but nothing else of obvious significance. Descending to the ground, they examined their findings: the wing fragment and the tufts of coarse brown hair.

"Not much," said Scharde.

"But still better than nothing. Perhaps we'd better have another word with Nion."

Glawen looked dubiously toward the winery.

"He doesn't seem too interested in helping us."

"We'll still give him a try. The trail must lead somewhere."

The two returned to the winery. Nion, standing in the doorway, observed their approach without display of emotion.

He asked as they drew near: "What have you found, if anything?"

Scharde displayed the articles taken from the truck bed.

"Do these mean anything to you?"

"The colored bit would seem to be part of the girl's costume. The other stuff: I don't recognize it, offhand."

"You don't use a rug, or sacking, or any such material?"

"I do not."

"Very well. We'll just take another look into the winery."

Nion shrugged and stood aside.

"What do you hope to find?

You've been through the place like a bad smell, into vats and all."

"True. But somewhere, somehow, we're missing something."

"How so?"

"This is the end of the trail. She was murdered in the truck. When you came for the truck, it had been moved and the body was gone. Time is limited; the body apparently was not buried; we would have markings in the soil, and the road shows the truck went no farther than the winery. What happened to the body?"

"I can't help you. Search if you like."

Scharde and Glawen stepped through the doorway and into the winery, with Nion coming behind. Ten vats loomed above them, five to either side, each vat painted a different color, and a console at each vat to control operations and supply information. During Scharde's previous visit, Nion had pumped dry each vat in turn, revealing no trace of Sessily.

Nion noticed Scharde's obvious interest in the vats. He asked gruffly: "What now? Must I pump my vats again? I waste a gallon-of good wine every time I pump over a vat."

"Are your gauges so accurate?"

"Certainly. The meters read to the tenth part of a gallon, which is important for careful blending, when even a half gallon of Diffin*s No. 4 Bitter Malvas too much or too little can affect a blend."

"So what is your procedure?"

"In simplest terms, I pump from the vats to the blending tank in proper proportions, to the amount of six hundred and sixty gallons, which is twelve casks, or three cases. This is a convenient batch size. Then I slide the casks along the ease way to the filling machine. I inspect the interior of each cask, the pump loads exactly fifty-five gallons of wine; I set the lid in place and the machine seals and clamps the lid to the cask. I slide away the full cask, and fill another to the number of twelve. These are held in stock over against the wall until I receive an order, when I load a shipping case appropriately and deliver it to the cargo bay at the spaceport."

Scharde looked along the wall.

"Your stock on hand is very low."

"There is no stock to speak of. Everything was sold during Parilia."

"And delivered to the spaceport?"

"True."

"And shipped?"