Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
“Thanks, Polly Hedron, your help is appreciated,” said Lily hanging up.
“What did she say?” asked Sally.
“She says statistically people who kill twice, always try to kill a third time,” replied Lily.
“You believe statics?” asked Sally.
“Most of the time,” replied Lily. “The other 137% of the time I reckon people exaggerate.”
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“Sally, can I have your phone?” asked Lily.
“Sure,” said Sally handing it over.
Lily began frantically dialling. “Where’s your phone?” asked Sally.
“Oh, I put it under my pillow last night,” sighed Lily. “Woke up to find the phone missing and a pound coin in its place.”
“For the love of,” sighed Sally. “Ruddy Bluetooth fairy.”
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“Ma’am,” said Sally, “call on the radio. They have spotted her.”
“Do they have a location?” asked Lily.
“Yes ma’am,” replied Sally. “The back gardens of Camden Street. She’s been stealing women’s underwear off the washing lines.”
“Good grief,” said Lily. “There’s no end to her villainy.”
A crackle and voice over the radio. “Darn,” said Sally. “It sounds like she gave the constables the slip.”
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“Any idea where she could be heading next?” asked Sally.
“Back in the day she used to be a keen chess player,” said Lily.
“How does that help?” asked Sally.
“Well she liked playing chess in Regents Park with old men,” said Lily.
“Right,” said Sally. “It must be hard to round up thirty-two of them onto a board…”
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“It didn’t last,” sighed Lily.
“Oh dear,” gasped Sally, “did she escape?”
“Yes,” replied Lily. “She was last seen screaming arrogant things at the prison guards before falling off the high wall and landing outside.”
“I see,” said Sally, “so she was condescending?”
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“Indeed,” sighed Lily. “We had a nightmare of a time containing her in prison.”
“Did she escape?” asked Sally.
“Many times,” sighed Lily.
“What did you do?” asked Sally.
“We made her a new prison suit out of dock leaves,” said Lily.
“Dock leaves?” enquired Sally.
“Yes,” said Lily. “They kept her from breaking out.”
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“How did you catch her?” asked Sally.
“We caught her in in the act of theft at a diary factory,” replied Lily.
“What was she stealing?” asked Sally.
“Twenty-four crates of diaries for the year 2052,” replied Lily. “She was going to sell them on to the Sicilian Mafia.”
“Gosh,” replied Sally. “That sounds like a very organised crime.”
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“There’s a discoloured patch on the wall,” observed Lily.
“Yes ma’am,” replied Sally, pulling out a tape measure.
“You’ll find it twenty-eight centimetres by twenty-one centimetres,” said Lily. “The exact size of a standard calendar.”
Sally paused with her measuring and turned to DCI Lily. “You’re spot on!”
“This has the hallmarks of Anita Bath, the dirty diary stealer of Doncaster,” said Lily.
“Diary stealer ma’am?” asked Sally.
“We caught her last year,” sighed Lily. “She got 12 months…”
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“Sally, what do you make of this?” asked Lily.
Sally poked a solid translucent substance by the body.
“It looks like jelly that’s been left out too long to me,” said Lily.
“I agree,” said Sally, collecting some in an evidence bag.
Lily leant against the counter. “So the killer used a congealed weapon.”
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“Smoke!” cried Sally.
“Quick,” shouted Lily, “it’s coming from the oven.”
Lily and Sally dashed across the room, yanked the oven door open, and pulled out the trays from inside.
“Ham and pineapple pizza ma’am,” said Sally. “Not only was she illegally cooking Hawaiian pizzas in her breakfast bar, but the oven was on far too hot.”
“She should have known,” replied Lily, “you need to cook them at aloha temperature.”
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Little Fears 