“Who found this?”
“I did, sarge.”
“You? Okay chaps, you can remove the body.”
“Aren’t you going to inspect the scene, Sir?”
“What can there possibly be to inspect? He left a message. And see here. It says. Dot, dot, dot.”
“Dot, dot, dot, sarge?”
“It was a cry for help.”
“And how do you come to that conclusion, Columbo?”
“Oi! Don’t take the piss. You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can put you back where you came from.”
“You said it was a cry for help, sergeant?”
“Dot dot dot. Dash dash dash. Dot dot dot. He was a third of the way through the internationally accepted code for the distress signal.”
“Oh.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“I made a note of it. It says:”
[i]What? This is 2020 , not 1984. Every fiction Nowedays is science fiction.
The quantum world revisited, or the approach of the witching hour. Or, wishing? Merely?
Do not worry, there still are insomniacs out there. Or, ’ Not everyone is a.vampire’
Note: it’s exactly 3 am .[/i]
“What time was this written?”
“23 minutes past the hour, sarge?”
“Can you be a little more precise?”
“Not with any certainty, sarge. It’s the time difference.”
“The time difference?”
“Would that be an item, sarge?”
“What the… stay there. Excuse me, miss… we’ve not been introduced.”
“I’m Doctor Avaluk. Forensics.”
“What’s your initial reaction, miss? Your gut instinct?”
“My gut instinct tells me that your demeanour is a little too brusque. You are, sir?”
“I am investigating the death of this man. I believe he drank himself to death.”
“I see. And you are basing your conclusion on what, precisely?”
“It is apparent that he is a third of the way through the internationally accepted distress signal. He knows he has a problem, observe the vomit on the keyboard. How long would you say that has been there, Love?”
“Ooooooh. I get it!”
“Is he okay?”
“He found the body. He is studying the art of detectivity,”
“And you’re tutoring him?”
“We teach each other, Love. How long?”
Fiction!