The phone rang, disturbing Officers Dang and Fang from their afternoon nap.

It had been a hectic morning, and the Officers of the law had had a tough time with Archie the Coffee Man ripping them off over their coffee order.

Dang looked at his phone and saw the word staring out at him. BASKET.

“Fang, you awake, looks like we’ve got another basket case.”

“What again? I thought we solved all that.”

“We’d better get on the case. Come on.”

The officers headed off in their car, siren wailing, Fang loved the sound of the siren, it gave him a sense of belonging and contributing to society. For Dang, it gave him a headache.

They arrived to a scene where multiple police cars were randomly parked. Fang and Dang parked the same way.

Inside was a brutal scene. A dead body, blood and a basket.

The body lay in the middle of the room, surrounded by a pool of its own blood. The basket had been jammed over the victim’s head and rested around its neck like some odd medieval collar.

“What’s this guy got against baskets?” asked Fang looking at the carnage.

“Could be a history buff,” announced Dang, “some people have weird fixations on certain periods of history.”

Over the previous months, there had been several deaths of a similar nature. Fang and Dang had investigated those as well and had come to the same conclusion each time. They had no idea who, what or why these murders were happening.

Then again, Fang and Dang weren’t the brightest Officers around. They thought turning up at a murder scene constituted an investigation.

Their first act when on the scene was to turn to Junior Constable Snertle and send her to get coffee. After all, sipping on coffee at a murder scene gave them a sense of looking cool and that had to mean something.

They asked the medical officer what the status of the body was. Dead.

Was the deceased male or female? Male.

Was he known to anyone? No.

Motive? None.

Basket? Once had been round and cane the sort you could buy at K-Mart.

Fang and Dang asked these questions knowing the answers wouldn’t shed any light of the case apart from the obvious. A dead body, a destroyed, perfectly good, basket and a lot of blood.

They headed back to the station. There they felt safe, felt important, like no one expected too much from them, and they were good at delivering that expectation.

The Chief was of a similar disposition and greeted them munching a salad sandwich.

“Any developments?” he asked.

“Just the usual,” replied Fang.

The Chief nodded and turned on the afternoon football match. “Forensics will be in touch soon, best be prepared.”

Fang and Dang agreed as they settled in front of the match, placing their bets on the match on the table.

“Having a basket jammed over your head like that must hurt, don’t you think?” asked Fang.

“Hurt like crazy,” replied Dang.

“Can you two shut up I want to watch the match,” stated the Chief taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Sorry, Chief,” they chorused.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/01/07/tale-weaver-309-7th-january-a-basket-case/