The dilettante “accidentally” burned down the police station upon sneaking into the morgue.
The alienist has woken up with a fair amount of slimy mucus on his body – twice. And went from waking under the pier at the docks to being beaten up by the police and being dropped in a ditch where he’s sleeping his pain off.
The artist has gone hysterical and jumped out at the window to basically foil an attempt to catch the murderous madman, falling on the dillettante and toppling both the doctor and the journalist. He also compulsively hums tunes now all the time just to keep his act together.
The criminal has been caught on film performing strange blood magic rituals from both a spellbook found in a wonky magic shop and from her brother’s weird nightmare visions. She also took a knife to the stomach when shielding her brother from attack and spent the rest of the day unconscious.
The doctor has no choice but stitch the sorry lot together. He also found out the madman has been using his gear for his work.
The whole gang tried to escape the police after firing a gun in broad daylight and ran their vehicle in a lamppost, leaving the unconscious Jenkins behind.
There is a paranoid thing going on between the alienist, the journalist, the criminal and the artist, who accuse each other of various things in prolonged rhetoric Mexican standoffs. The criminal has broken up with the journalist, who didn’t know they had a thing going on. He blames it on the alcohol.
Nobody trusts no one. Except the doctor. Maybe because he has morphium.