[The day is winding down and Lynne is somewhere in the pits of paperwork hell, which is the absolute worst place to be. She's sort of slumped on her desk, face propped up in her hand, when someone comes a-ehi-ing. Bloodstained recorders are the most exciting thing that have happened to her in hours, so Lynne hops to her feet.]

Give it here! Is that the... [She pauses, glancing down at her pile o' papers, and groans.] ...What is it with musical instruments this week? Is that one a murder weapon or just a crime scene piece?