The case of the wheelie Bin

  Looking up at the officer on duty, Jacob, the coroner, adjusted his spectacles and flipped to a fresh page on his steno pad.  Jacob wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes.  He had been on call for the last sixty years and was still unaccustomed to being paged at four in the morning.

"There's something about this bin.", murmurered Jacob, looking towards Sergeant Mallox without really noticing him.

"What's that, Jacob?", asked Mallox.  His voice had not changed since high school.  Deep, booming and always much louder than necessary.  And always with an undertone that at one point a pail of water that Mallox himself had teetered at just the right spot, would fall on some unsuspecting someone's head

"This bin, Mallox.  Look at it."

Malllox's limited attention span - another mainstay of his high school years, allowed him only a brief look at the bin before he had decided there was nothing peculiar he could decipher.

"See that?  There?", Jacob looked at Mallox and directed his eyes to an etching just below the handle.

Mallox scrutinized the bin, looking everywhere but where Jacob had pointed, before his eyes became bigger and his mouth became smaller and his eyes became smaller and his mouth openned into a vacuous gaping smile.

"What's it say?", chimed Mallox excitedly, always anxious to watch Jacob solve yet another mystery.  Mallox, although he did not understand Jacob's methods, nor his intuitive reasonning, was always thrilled at the sheer genius of his long time counterpart.

Jacob, patient with Mallox, and always glad to have his jovial company, peered silently at the etching, small enough to call for close examination and displayed in an elegant script.

"It says 'Wheelie Bin, Mallox, what could that possibly mean?", asked Jacob staring intently at the etching and then moving his investigation to the working parts of the bin itself.

"Go away fwom here and stop making all dat noise or I'ww have you twansfered to the stix!", said Sergeant Mallox,  the big goon of a small town cop as he smacked the diminuitive old coroner on the back of his white lab coat.

"HeeyAAAAAH!", guffawed Mallox ,eyeing the venerable Jacob with a look of midwestern mischief caught up in a boyish grin,  "That was Tweety Bird!"

"Right, Sergeant Mallox, you're absolutely right!", giigled Jacob, "Mallox, I think you've solved this one!"

The End

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