My coffee, hot, black, and fresh, splashed across my lap. Oh, I swore about it. When the call came in I knew I wasn't going to see a shower or fresh clothes for a few days. You see, I'm a homicide detective, Tom Harley. I somehow get pegged with the winners, and this case was not going to be any exception to that rule.
This mansion owned by what you might call an eccentric, whom I might call a raving lunatic, was the scene of a single male who had been dismembered.
Oh, the place was a doozy, let me tell you! My, gahd, the driveway alone cost more than my house. As I surveyed the house, I could, you know, smell the blood and bodily fluids. The thing was, there was no sign if blood nowhere! Oh, and believe me, you! Even a single drop of blood woulda stood out in this stark white place.
Anyways, after looking for the crime scene, where the murder and all the gory stuff took place, which we did not find, we found the following. The owner of this place was, in fact murdered. We found his head cooking away in a pressure cooker. His torso was in an enormous friggin' stew pot! I mean, who needs a stew pot bigger than a bathtub? Anyways, his feet was found in the glove box of his car. We also found his hands and arms in the laundry area. They was in a steam presser thing.
By the end of the day, I had written up a report on what we had at that point and, whaddaya know, the assistant DA is there standing over me. Do, I says to him, "what? You want me to get ridda dat parkin' ticket?"
"Not quite, Detective Harley. You see, the coroner has not been able to determine cause if death with what you brought him. So, right now, your case doesn't have a leg to stand on"
Like I said, one of those days ....
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