"Do you know this woman?" said the policeman ignoring Dink and staring through the bathroom doorway.  In the bathroom two white-clad SOCOs were bringing the body of the prostitute out of the bath and into a black body bag.

"No," said Dink.  He was sat on the top step of the stairs hugging his knees and staring at his feet.  He had called the police to say that he'd found a body in the bath and they'd sent an officer over to tell him off for wasting police time.  When the officer had seen the body things had changed.

"Did you kill her before or after you had sex with her?"

"I never had sex wi-- wait, what?"

"Did you kill her before or after you had sex with her?"

"I didn't kill her.  I don't know who she is."

"Are you sure of that?"


"Where did you pick her up?"

"I didn't pick her up.  I don't know what she's doing in the bath.  It's not her house, she shouldn't be here.  I don't know why she wanted to die in my bath.  I don't know.  I just don't KNOW!"  He started crying now, hot tears that stung his eyes and made no sense to him.  Why should he be crying over someone he didn't know?

A SOCO called the officer into the bathroom to point something out, and the officer reappeared in the doorway a few moments later.

"Did you say that you waffled for a living?" he said, shifting from one foot to another.

"I'm a poet," said Dink.

"Then could you perhaps identify a piece of paper in the bath?"

"I don't write poetry in the bath," said Dink, standing up a little shakily.  "The ink won't dry properly."

"Of course," said the police officer, his tone efficiently indicating that he thought Dink was subnormal.  "The paper's here, at the end with the taps."

Dink leaned over the bath and looked at it, trying not to look at the prostitute and saw a page that looked like it had come from his notebook.  Written on it, in his handwriting, was:

    When we perpetrate Obscenity,

    We know it's only scent,

    And when we emphasize defamity,

    We know it's never meant.

"It's not complete," he said, standing up.  "That's only one verse."

His eyes fell on the face of the prostitute still visible in the unzipped body bag, and he recognized her immediately as a girl he'd dated twice in school.

He threw up on the shoes of the bemused police officer.

The End

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