Dianne was walking to her local café. It was a Friday, and she and Mr Thomson usually enjoyed a bean curry for lunch, even though it made her fart within an hour of eating the delicious, spicy savoury dish.
When she broke wind with Thomson present, she tried her best to disguise it by lifting the left side of her bottom to let the gas escape. She’d always knew whether he had had smelt it, because he’d pass comments, like: “Let the beans out,” or “Play the trouser tuba.”
She was ambling back to the office with two bean curries when she was stopped by her father. “Hello, Pa.”
They hugged each other and he said: “You know how blood is thicker than water, I have something to ask of you.”
“Go on, Pa.”
He pulled her aside to a more private spot. “There’s some evidence in the case of James Roderick, and I don’t know what it is. Can you do some digging around?”
Dianne looked at him hesitantly. “I don’t know whether I can do that.”
The police chief looked frustrated.
She finally gave in, but she immediately regretted doing so. “There’s a bracelet... ”
“There’s a bracelet that has blood smeared on it. We’ve submitted it for DNA testing.”
So, that was it, the chief thought.
Then Dianne said. “The testers show that it’s a man.” She could see that his hopes were raised.
“Please, carry on.”
“No, I’ve said too much already.”
Chief Koekemoer reassured her: “You’ve been more than helpful, Dianne.”