I was sorting through some Roman denarii and found a woman’s head on them—fascinating. I wonder if any of those have found their way into your bounty case files.

The coins were found in the cellar of the old mill on Birch Lane, just a few yards from the abandoned watchtower. Two of the denarii bear the face of a woman that matches the portrait on the portrait that disappeared from the town museum last summer; the third coin’s reverse has a strange, unfamiliar knot—almost like a cipher. They were wrapped in a thread‑burr of cloth that matched the thread on the victim’s last known letter. If that letter is the key, then these coins might not be a collector’s trinket after all, but a token left intentionally. I'll pull up the museum’s records on the portrait, cross‑reference the mill’s recent workmen, and see if anyone’s been missing. If you can give me a copy of the letter’s content, I’ll check for any hidden messages that could tie the coins to the crime.

I don’t have the letter in hand, but I’m on the lookout for a copy—perhaps the clerk who kept the town’s old correspondence still has a loose folder. In the meantime, I’ve already started marking the mill’s workbenches and the watchtower’s windows with my trusty field notebook. If someone’s planning a next move, I’ll be there with a magnifying glass and a question.

Thanks, I’ll keep the notebook tight and the details in plain sight—no one can miss what’s there if it’s properly catalogued. Once I track down that letter, I’ll flag it right away. Don't worry, I’ll stay ahead of any shady moves.

Got it. I’ll lock the notebook in place and watch the mill and tower like a hawk. When that letter surfaces, I’ll flag it straight away. Stay ready.