It was a case that could only be described.
The body of the young woman found face down in the garden of Reggie Burg, one time philanderer and part time weekend seismologist. He had made a name for himself in reporting every brontide he heard. Why? No one was sure other than he’d made a nuisance out of himself doing so.
He was a simple man Reggie and when confronted with the news that the young lady in question a Miss Dakota Ransom had been found in the one patch of garden that was sure to cause furore amongst the garden fraternity, the velvet Chrysanthemums which had long been the envy of all and sundry who knew anything about gardens, Reggie began one of his long diatribes about being away at the time and it wasn’t long before we knew we’d heard enough of his mindless palaver and there was no way he was going to be stringing us along this time.
My bosses had made it clear that someone had to be arrested over this killing. The boss was a garden man and the Chrysanthemum Society had made it a priority that the desecration of the velvet Chrysanthemums would not be tolerated and that there need to be an arrest so others might not take it into their hands to copy this heinous act.
To say the boss was inured of the Chrysanthemum Society was putting it mildly as they had threatened him with expulsion if nothing was seen to be done. If there was one thing that irritated the boss it was being inured, he hated it, inuring meant the worst of the worst to him, he railed against it, tossed things around his office including his Phantom comics, threatened us all with traffic duty if we failed to apprehend the killer.
I was feeling the pawn in this operation. There was barely a scintilla of truth behind Reggie’s involvement even though we all knew he was in it up to his neck.
I did a little digging and discovered Miss Ransom was in fact his illegitimate daughter, born after a wild night at the Calgary Stampede.
Slowly the facts started to mount and a motive moved towards me through the fog in my mind.
I needed tea, tea always gave me clearer thought, green tea to be exact, strong, the sort you could stand your spoon in.
As I sat there grazing on the honey and ginger biscuits my mother had made me the day before I saw a pattern.
I gulped down the last of the tea, felt the caffeine surge through my body, I was suddenly alert, more alert than ever, and I knew, with what I knew, that I knew Reggie knew there’d be no more palaver from this guy, he’d heard his last brontide, in six months we’d be stringing him up for all the see.