Previously on Bloatmingle of the Yard...
Bloatmingle and Spiggot were pondering two major unsolved mysterious mysteries - The Chisel Murders and the Poisoned Corset Murders. Bloatmingle has reflected on the known facts, regurgitated the evidence and realised that witnesses to both crimes had revealed that the suspect was... A MAN!
"Brilliant, sir!" exclaimed Spiggot, hugely impressed with the inspector's deductive abilities, "The net closes in, eh sir!"
Just as Bloatmingle's hand clasped the telephone receiver it rang. It was evidently a telephone call. He snatched it up with professional urgency. "Bloatmingle here", he announced in his usual clipped old Etonian accent. It was bad news. He raised his eyebrows and lowered his moustache. "I see." he added by way of summary and hung up. "No time to lose, Spiggot! Fetch the car at once... " he blurted through a very serious frown, "There's been another murder!"
Spiggot hurriedly abandoned his half eaten sausage roll, donned his helmet and hurried from the room.
Having paused only for a quick baked potato at Greasy Ken's Tasty Spud Emporium, Bloatmingle and Spiggot' in their gleaming black Wolseley turned into the rainsoaked High Street and pulled up outside Dorothy Knickerthwaite's Corsetry shop. Scene of crime officers had already sealed the area off with impenetrable bits of yellow string and were standing guard in their rain capes. "Well done, constable." said Bloatmingle. "Very few injuries sustained by the general public. You're improving."
"Thank you sir....sir" said the two sodden sentinels, almost in unison, pleased to have been complimented by Bloatmingle of the Yard.
"So," said Bloatmingle to the nearest policeman. "What have we got here? Fittock isn't it?" The young PC positively glowed with pride. "Yes, sir, PC 214 Fittock, sir. I believe you knew my father sir, PC 675 Fittock, sir" How could Bloatmingle forget? Tubby Fittock! A local legend. Passed out with Bloatmingle from Knobbler's Grange Police College in the summer of '35. His knowledge of local villains, gathered over years of beat-pounding had been instrumental in the arrest and conviction of many until his untimely death two years previously. Bloatmingle shuddered inwardly as he recalled that nasty business at the Custard Factory. Even to this day, as Mrs Bloatmingle whipped up one of her special trifles, Bloatmingle always insisted she wore a sturdy leather apron - knowing as he did how unpredictable that damn stuff could be.
Fittock cleared his throat. "I attended the scene at 9.31am, sir,with PC 149 Croucher sir, after a call from a lady what had called to pick up a item of a personal underwearish nature from the premises, sir. Upon entering, she seen another female person now identified as Dorothy Aileen Knickerthwaite apparently deceased behind the counter, sir. We found this clutched in the dead party's hand, sir"
Bloatmingle took the crumpled paper. He went cold. On it were written the words, "TOMMY NO-NOSE DONE IT".