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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic







I am told that if you are going to tell a mystery story don’t start with a weather report. Well I gotta break the rule because if it weren’t for the weather the damn story woulda never happened in the first place. So suck it in and keep reading.

It was an ice storm, the worst anyone under a hundred years old had ever seen and it was layering thick on the roads, sidewalks tree branches, hydro wires and anything else it could cling to including cars. By the time it managed to quit the ice was an inch thick. So when Katie Malancort found the body in the park it was perfectly preserved in a cocoon of clear ice. And since it got colder and it didn’t snow the ice didn’t melt and the knife blade shoved in its chest made it pretty obvious how the guy got wasted. And it weren’t no accident, especially since there were several other obvious puncture wounds in the chest.


The stiffs name was Moody Slankers, a hood type of creature who made his living collecting debts for another creep called Welland Kannel, a big boss in the core of the city who ran numbers, women, poker games, illegal hooch and various versions of smokable herbs and a profitable loan shark business. It was the latter that got Moody Slankers aced and dumped in the park in the middle of an ice storm.

Some poor slouch walking his dog after the storm found the corpse and in a very excited phone call reported it to the police, via the 911 emergency service which ran it through to me, Detective Inspector Vent Shaft. Most people just refer to me as Inspector, just in case they get a funny on and make fun of my name which never ends well.


The 911 operator was a girl with no sense of humour and all business who insisted on using my entire rank and name. “Detective Inspector Vent Shaft. There has been a homicide report by a Stefan Vanwesterfallen. Uniformed units have been sent ahead and the corner has been advised as well as the Crime Scene Unit. Your Sergeant was not available so it was necessary to contact you directly.

Detective Sergeant Natally Lumbershin was good at her job but she had a really thick addiction which she fed as often as she could, with anyone willing to participate. I managed to interrupt her in mid pant. “If you can get off your ride we have business to attend….now.” I ordered.

“Okay boss. I am on my way.


They had Moody Slankers under a blanket and were thawing him out with a portable propane heater by the time I showed up. Lumberershin arrived looking fresh as a daisy on a spring afternoon a few minutes later. She took one look at Slankers and said. “I wonder who had the smarts enough to knock this clod off?”

“A pro is my guess, but then it might have been someone he’d never have expected.” I replied then went to talk to Vanwesterfallen to find out if he had seen anything besides just finding the body. As it turned out he had. Just before the storm set in he had seen Slankers in the park with some woman who was being friendly, real friendly in fact and they both went into the bush where Slankers body was sort of half hidden.


Vanwesterfallen even coughed up a really explicit description of the woman and it clicked in pretty quick that from it I knew who it was. Of course it didn’t mean she killed the creep but she might know who did. Then again she might have killed him. It would not have been first  poor sap who croaked in her company, but it never ever got proved that she killed them, except maybe she gave them such a ride it gave them a heart attack.

The knife was the kitchen, amateur chef French knife variety that you can pick up at any dollar store for a buck or so, so tracing the weapon wasn’t going to happen and though there were prints in the blood on the handle they were plastic glove prints.


I studied the thawed out stiff of Moody Slankers and noticed a stub of paper sticking out of his pants pocket, which were pulled down around his knees. I guess you get the picture what was going on when his date decided to stab him several time to death.

Sergeant Lumbershins stared at the stiff for a long time then she looked at his face. “Tragic waste. A guy like that a creep.” She whispered then pointed out that there were hand prints frozen into the dirt on either side of the dead man’s hips.

“We can get something from those if we’re careful.” She nodded.


“I reminded her that I already had an ID on the person those hand prints belonged to and I was about to make my first inquiry hoping it would be a shore interview and put this case to bed quickly since I really hate being out in bad weather.

Melonknee Garbonaski lived up in the Wedge, where most of her kind lived because it was cheap and most of the cops didn’t bother going there because, well, most of them had a friend or two there. She lived in a two story rooming house that looked like it belonged in some slum area of old London, UK version even though it was stuck in the middle of TO. When she opened the door and saw me the smile she was wearing ay first fell like she had a sudden case of bells palsy.

“Did you kill him?” I asked right out.

“Yup. I stabbed him 13 times. But it wasn’t until the last one that he actually died.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Well it’s like this inspector.” She began then pulled out a knife and stabbed me to death and now I am a dead ghost whispering into a computer speech to text gizzmo because my fingers go right through the key board.






Submitted: July 30, 2018

© Copyright 2021 Donald Harry Roberts. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



Ha! Brilliant! Thanks for that, DH, I sure did not expect that ending!

Mon, July 30th, 2018 9:28pm


Thanks Hully

Mon, July 30th, 2018 2:42pm

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