Notes from Bitternut’s Casebook

On Change leave the last few days (full moon). Returned to duty to find marginally less chaos than usual and only 4 murders, one already solved (as in ‘caught red-clawed standing over the body’), pretty quiet for a full moon.

Station appears to have acquired – not a pet, more of a sort of shambling furry stain.  Apparently it wandered in while I was Off Duty and no-one had the heart to chase it off.  Has been named Splotch, which is, at least, fairly accurate.  Has a habit of sitting near people’s feet giving off an aura of hopeful neediness.  Not sure how it does this since if it possesses a face, I have no idea where it is and have no intention of trying to find out.  However does not appear to be causing any trouble or making any mess, which is more than can be said for most of our visitors.  Seems to like half-finished sandwiches, preferably squishy and dripping.


Disturbed to see from the book that Fists Pronag, in for assault on some unfortunate for the umpteenth time, shared a cell for two nights with an inoffensive if perennial little thief, name of Slippery Flores.

Was preparing to tear a strip off the officer responsible, only to see Slippery giving me a cheery wave on his way to court.  “Any trouble with your cellmate?” I said.

“Oh, no, Chief. Very polite fella, offered me the top bunk and insisted I take his supper, both nights.  Nervous sort, though.”

Further enquiries elicited the information that Fists had somehow got the impression that we had run out of cells for weres, and he was sharing with one.  What he thought poor little Slippery was likely to turn into I do not know, but it proved an effective method of control, though not one to be encouraged, probably.  Though must admit I rather regret missing the sight of Fists cowering away from someone half his size, for a change.


Officer Roflet drew the straw for giving a talk to the Retired Ladies Conversation and Knitting Circle on How Your Militia can Help You, and came back with a great deal of cake, a somewhat disturbed expression, and fifteen invitations to tea.  That’s five more than I got.  Told him wearing his uniform was a mistake.  He’ll probably be all right with all of them except Lady Alstonwither, who’s not only persuasive but remarkably agile for her age.  Still, might do him good, the boy needs a hobby.



Notes from Bitternut’s Casebook — 1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *