Intricacies of Crime 

Daniel S. Irwin & Ronald D. Irwin

The intricacies of the crime were as much a mystery as the secret   ingredients in Classic Coke or a fine pot of booya. Not all dogs choke on liver, yet licking the hind ends of polliwogs seems less a mater of technical expertise than explicit desire...all which means nothing in light of the dim flame of logic.

     "Pass me the aspirin. We're out of cheese," snapped the chief detective. He knew that somewhere in the night rests the flugelhorn of fate. "It very well could have been a suicide."

     "But, boss," began the junior, junior detective, "the shotgun was found outside in the yard, he's got three knives stuck in his back, his hands and feet are bound, he's got a rutabaga up his wazoo, and his head's ripped off."

     "Keep in mind," replied the chief, "if it hadn't been for the American revolution, this country could be like Canada. As I said, 'could be a suicide....a very determined suicide."

     "Then, I take it, you're ruling out accidental death."

     "No, I have that in mind for you."