The crime? Murder. The motive? Life insurance.

  • The crime? Murder. The motive? Life insurance. The time? Breakfast. The weapon? Cheese knife. The plan? Dubious. The victim? Obnoxious. The police report?

  • It was all of 25,459 words. The print was so tiny one needed a magnifying glass to understand why the author went to great lengths to illustrate how murders are planned in pajamas.

  • Forensic technician Agnes Montclare conveyed her suspicions to Detective J. Manatee. "Someone went to great trouble to weave microscopic red herrings into this pyjama scrap." The g

  • ood detective waved a flipper dismissively. "I could smell the herring a mile away. Our suspect is wearing a white elephant pjs with a fish in his pocket. It could only be my arch

  • -enemy, Doctor Anemone! Notice the puncture marks? Neurotoxin quills, his MO." Det. Manatee paced lugubriously. How did he manage to escape the scene?

  • Det. Manatee, flummoxed by how Dr. Anemone could make it to the back of the ristorante unseen, was irked by the waiters passing in and out, bearing plates piled high with spaghetti

  • Bolognese or French fries topped with cream. "Those waiters drive me mad! I need fresh air. Let's get out of here !"

  • He did not realize that a dollop of cream had landed on the back of hid jacket. As the pair of them left the restaurant, his friend went to brush it off. "What do you think

  • he remarked. I have really wanted to invest in the Stock Market...yet I am not sure of

  • anything anymore. Or anyone. You see, I now vaguely recall flipping the switch that sent 50 000 joules coursing through my noggin, right before all this crap started 'happening'.



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