Alcander kept himself busy while the others spoke, checking the cadaver's weight of limb, the skin texture, and he performed a small spell to determine if any vile spirits still dwelled around the corpse. Unfortunately, he received no reply when he attempted to summon the spirit of the deceased. But that was not the most disconcerting part. When he pulled out the mandrake and performed the rite, he not only felt as if there was no one at home. He felt as if there was a vacuum where a soul might have been. For a brief moment, Alcander felt a tinge of fear as he felt the pull of his own soul. A less experienced mage might have stepped in to search, but that would have spelled the end of him. He suppressed a shudder and closed the summoning. 

By this point, the others had arrived and made quite the spectacle, as they often did. By the time they had decided to acknowledge him, he had run out of ideas without further assistance from Jo, Alcander was merely standing there as if waiting for an elevator, hands in his jacket. 

"Good idea." Alcander said, the toothpick in his mouth undulating as he spoke. "I'm not the best at sweet talking the security guards."

If Alcander was alone, he might have done a larger summoning, perhaps asking a stone spirit for aid. They were rife in the city, all the concrete and imported stone for the more exotic buildings attracted them like. However, they were far more volatile than the spirits locked in natural mountains. In modern terms, you'd call the rock spirits that fled to the city as 'bums,' exiled from the true stone to fraternize with a low class, made-man mixture. In fact, cities often had the worst or least honorable of the old powers. Anything that trucked with humanity tended to be pretty seedy, as far as the ancients were concerned. Except the Black Dogs of Britain, and he lamented they weren't in London. That would have been cased closed almost immediately.

Unfortunately, he was not alone. Most members of his 'team' if you could call it that, had spirits or heavenly beings already residing in them. Summoning more to congregate with a spell was just asking for trouble. 

He fished in his jacket, and produced an old box camera in his left hand, letting the group get a good look at it. He then lazily tossed it to Adri. "Here, catch." The contraption was solid and as heavy as a rock, made from industrial grade, small form iron, but the make of it gave it an edge in capturing the supernatural on film. Even if it hit the ground, it would take a fall from a real height to break it. 

Old was gold, as they say. 

"Just take a few photos of the body and the surrounding area. Alright, Teajay. Let's go move that shit." The detective sighed, turning his back to the group and meandering that way. He nonchalantly spit the toothpick into a refuse pile he passed.