"Ah, the 'dreaming spires.' Not for this poor sod, eh Nigel?"
"That was Oxford, Steve. This is Trinity College, Cambridge. You know, Newton? Francis Bacon? The Wren Library?"
"Right, sorry Nige. So, what we lookin' at 'ere?"
"Well, the best way I can reckon it is this: the bloke is sleeping in his bed and someone comes in and does his head in. And that's how we find him, lying there on the floor. But what I can't figure out is why there's that strange gap on the wall?"
"You're right, Nigel. There certainly is a hook there. It's almost like a picture had been hanging over the bed."
"Are you trying to tell me, Nigel, that a Tudor monarch dead for over 450 years, has come back and murdered this poor jackarse -- what's his name? Wasn't something Spanish? Sanchez or something?"
"Steve, I don't know what else to tell you. He seems to have done this Sanchez like he done old Anne Boleyn: decapitation."
"Talk about a black legend!"
"Good one, Nigel!"