Inspector Sned scratched her head.
Gazed upon the tousled bed.
'No doubt here. The woman's dead.'
Her words were stern, yet quietly said.
She looked around at Sergeant Froome
Whose eyes took in the perfumed room.
The red lamp with its stiffened pleats
Cast darkened shadows on the sheets
Where lay the woman, opened eyes,
As though aghast in shocked surprise.
'Never had a death before,' white faced and grave
the Madam sighed;
'I've always tried to be discreet - no noise - no fuss
I've even tried
To lead the way in price and style.'
She looked away and forced to smile.
'Who was she?' asked Inspector Sned.
She moved much closer to the bed.
'Has she been long then, on the game'
She really seems not quite the same as
Some who have for many years
Lived a life with pimps and queers!'
The answer came: 'T'was Maddy Price - so sedate
and very nice'
Fairly new, it's truth to say; works a few hours every day.
Quiet really, I'd assume, because she chose a private room
To meet her clients and be discreet, as they wandered in
from off the street.'
The lifeless form lay semi-prone, makeup marred
and smudged away.
The tongue protruded from the mouth and from the lips
came in to play
A frothy substance' clear to see,
'It's strangulation' Has to be.'
Sgt Froome alert at last, interest sparked by what he saw,
studied Maddy's injured throat and as a student of the law,
Narrowed eyes and felt the wound, spoke several words
in dulcet tone;
'And when they do a quick PM, they'll find a fractured
hyoid bone.'
The SOCO team had all arrived.' The premises were
closed, of course.
The questioning would soon begin by other members of
the force:
Detective Black and PC Jones - the latter fairly new
they said,
Yet one who seemed to know a lot, from TV shows or
what she'd read.
'The family now must be advised. Her papers please,'
spoke Dulcie Sned.
'Who was the last client for her? Describe him now; who
had her bed?
You say she met them in her room; she did not sit with
others there
To greet her clients as they came, or view them as they
climbed the stair.'
The closet held poor Maddy's gear.' Familiar labels
bra and slip,
Soft lingerie - some, lace embossed, a sleeveless frock
with fancy clip.
A leather purse containing rings, a bunch of keys,
a perfume spray.
The usual things a woman needs and carries with her
every day.
'Your wife is dead,' blunt Dulcie spoke.
The husband stared in disbelief.
'That could not be,' he loudly said.
(Too early yet for signs of grief.)
'My wife's in town to shop today.'
He shifted in his city suit.
'Your wife's been killed, I'm sad to say.'
'Where?'
'In a house of ill-repute.'
slumped then in a nearby chair, head lowered and
with face in hands.
'How could this be,' he hoarsely cried.' A query that such
shock demands.
'She is the mother of our son.'
'Where is he now'' asked Dulcie, cool'
'Thanks to his mother's saving ways, away from here
in boarding school.'
A big expense, thought Dulcie, then. I wonder where this
fellow works?
Can he afford a boarding school'' Does his job give him
many perks?
'What do you do?' she plodded on.' 'Can you afford a
school as such?'
'My wife saved money carefully.'
I'll bet thought Dulcie, but how much?
'How did she die?' His name was Russ.
'A crime of passion one would say-
'Strangulation happened there - the murderer was
hardly gay.'
'Did she suffer?' Russell asked. 'I'd hate to think
that was the case.'
'Just a little,' Dulcie cringed, judging by her twisted face.
'Why are you home in working hours?'
'Forgot my keys; that made me late.'
'Did you pass near Riley Street?'
'Was that where she met her fate?
Is that where the Brothel stands? Why, oh why,
I'll never know.
I thought she loved me very much. But maybe that
was long ago!
She didn't need to do this thing. I'm quite disgusted
I must say,
To think my wife brought money in from working there
in such a way.
But why did someone do this act - to go for sex - and
then to kill?'
'Sometimes,' said Dulce, 'it's all mixed up. It's all part
of a sexy thrill.'
She studied Russell as she spoke. Dark curly hair just
touched with gray.
Ice blue eyes, a trimmed moustache, great teeth,
clear skin;
He'd need good pay.
He fitted well into his suit. She rather liked the look
of Russ.
Except when he pulled at his clothes. (Perhaps the
fellow wore a truss?)
'You'll have to tell your son,' Dulce said.'Sadly, though,
it won't be nice.
We'll want to talk to you again. Don't leave the district,
Mr Price.'
Her mind strayed back to Riley Street
Where Detective Black and Jones and others
Were questioning an anxious staff;
Some were sisters, some were mothers.
How far had the team progressed? Were the morning
clients new?
How had the murderer entered there? Had his entrance
been on view?
Fingerprints? They must exist. Had transactions been
exchanged?
Post mortem would soon tell all that. T'was action of a
mind deranged.
Dulce drove back with Sergeant Froome,
Kept her mind in some small fashion
On the girls at Madam's dwelling
How they lived in endless passion.
Just a fee, an introduction
A kiss and sex's great reliefs.
Dulcie felt herself get hotter,
Shifted quietly in her briefs.
The modern building - shut for business - had a
cordon all around.
Questioning there still continued
Ears kept firmly to the ground.
Madam, pale from shock and worry
Sat with worker, Lucy Lara.
Both had lost their strong composure
As well as lots of fresh mascara.
'Well', said our Inspector Dulcie,
'What's the story up to date?
'Many of the girls been questioned?
'Let's not keep this show too late.'
They all sat around with Madam, drinking boring
cups of tea.
Holding friends in shock and wonder, fearful in adversity.
Fingerprints had all been tested carefully as that demands
But a set was hard to fathom, due to many groping hands.
'I'm the Hostess for the morning,'
Buxom Betty answered then.
'I take cash from those who enter.
This bloke said his name was Glen.'
'And Glen "What"?' quiet Froome demanded,
Creased his forehead in a frown'
'I suppose you'll tell me next,
That his surname was Jones or Brown.'
Buxom Betty ate her orange, separating fruit from pith.
'No,' she answered through a mouthful.
'Actually, his name was Smith.'
Madam allowed herself a giggle,
'You'll find these fellows all the same.
Never let you know who they are
When they're looking for a dame.
We don't care if they are lying -
To tell the truth t'would be too hard -
As long as they come up with money,
Be it cash or credit card.'
'He was dressed in fancy joggers.'
Buxom Betty carried on.
'Silken shirt and well-pressed trousers.
Remembing him when he was gone.
Though he had his head averted,
graying in the hair was seen.
Clipped moustache and nicely perfumed
Fairly tall and fairly lean.'
'What time was this'' asked careful Dulcie.
'Does your diary tell me, when?'
'You don't need to check,' said Betty.
'The time was almost nearly ten.'
Dulcie sat and quietly pondered;
How could one here recognise
A stranger in a city brothel
By moustache or clothes or size?
'Anybody ever seen him,
Has he booked in here before?'
Never to expect an answer
Dulcie looked down at the floor.
'Was there any real commotion coming from poor
Maddy's room?'
Another question put in motion, by Detective
Alex Froome.
'Nothing special,' assured Betty,
Who'd worked around for many nights.
'Just the gasps and heavy breathing someone finds in
new delights.'
Softly spoken, sexy Susan
Stood aside from all the rest.
Gazed at our Inspector Dulcie
Trying hard to do her best.
Raised her heavy painted eyelids,
Blew an expert cloud of smoke:
'Guess I ought to speak up quickly,
Think I know this nasty bloke.
It's quite some time now
Since I've seen him
I don't want to cast the blame,
but I caught a glimpse this morning,
Yes, I think this chap's the same.'
Dulcie gently steered the answers.
Sat the girl down on a stool.
'How then do you think you know him?'
'His son went to a boarding school.'
Detective Froome and Dulce together
Cast a glance at Sexy Sue.
How would she be mixed with learning?
Surely not a thing she'd do?
Suzy caught their stares and meaning.
Recognised their disbelief.
Thought she'd tell another story
Causing Dulce and Froome relief.
'Well,' she said 'this job I'm doing
Isn't one I've always had.
And, I know some think this naughty,
Even think it's very bad.
But hours are good and Madam's easy;
The pay is great in many ways.
It's higher than the average income
Even better than DJs.'
'A boarding school? I can't believe it!'
Something tweaked in Dulcie's brain.
She had heard those words this morning,
Had she heard them once again'
'Tell me Susie, please' said Dulcie.
'Tell me how this had begun-'
'I'd seen the boy!'' said Sexy Susie
When I was a MERCY NUN!'
Silence reigned in Madam's boudoir.
First time for the golden rule.
Buxom Betty dropped her fag-end,
Froome slipped off the plastic stool.
Lucy Lara fluttered eyelids,
Should she question? Should she cheer?
Thought she'd celebrate for Susie,
Got herself a Toohey's beer.
Inspector Dulcie gazed at Susie
Exercising civil rights.
Standing there in sparkling spangles,
Poured into her orange tights.
Dulcie shook her head in wonder
Lots of things she'd like to ask.
But, questions first and answers later
Was the most important task.
'Get to Price's house,' snapped Dulcie.
'Take the fellow by surprise,
Check his job and time of starting,
Disregard his bloody lies.
Then we'll have to get our Susie
To identify this crook.
Looks like early gaol for Russell'
Think they'll throw at him…the book.'
Russell's hours of work were queried.
Management was shocked to find
That instead of Russell's sickie
He'd been of another mind.
Sexy Susan went with Alex,
Answered questions - they were rife.
Was this the man she'd seen this morning?
If so, Russ had killed his wife.
Russell sat red-eyed, unshaven,
Shrouded in a cloak of gloom.
Making frank and true confessions
In the police procedural room.
'Yes,' said Russell, 'God, I killed her
Sudden anger made it so
Because I heard from trusty workmates'
That she'd turned into a Pro.'
Detective Froome received promotion.
Sexy Susan proves her worth.
Tries her best to keep receiving
That bit of heaven here on Earth.
Inspector Dulcie's left the Police Force;
Said at last she saw 'the light'.
You'll' find her working now at Madam's
Booking clients - in at night.