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The Case of the Clandestine Housekeeper
By Mark Edwards

There could not have been a more peculiar case


Than that which confronted our cop.
Never one with a more suspicious aspect


Could have reached more concern at the top.

What should have been an open/shut matter


Did baffle our gentle gendarme,
For this one innocuous burglary


Was one that failed to do much harm.

Once our trench-coated head detective


Arrived at the scene of the crime,
What should he see but the tragic victim?


Though all the poor lass did was laugh.

What transpired that night was indeed forced entry,


With ideas of damage and theft,
Though there lacked any cruel disarray,


And there all of value was left.

Our victim, with a smile she maintained all the while,


Insisted that nothing was missed,
And there, in the sink, which was left with disgust,


Not one dirty dish did exist.

Since nothing was stolen, and no anguish caused,


At behest of the girl, the case was dropped
Our inspector left, lost in baffled thought


And through the night slept, he did not.

Throughout the week, comparable cases arose


Each time was exactly the same
Houses were ordered, chores carried out


The victims reluctant to place blame.

Until, finally, one bright Sunday morn,


Who should our officer see
But a well-kempt young man in fashionable dress


Sitting languidly in front of a desk.

“Who are you?” demanded the officer,


A scowl drawn on his leathery face.
“I’m your culprit, you see”, the young man explained


Smirking with satisfied grace.

“I see, young man, but tell me one thing,


What was the intent of your crimes?
Break and Entry is a serious offense


Especially in these private times.”

“My intentions were good, my manners above par,”


The young thief’s defense was urbane.
“You see, my good sir, no body has time


To do that which needs to be done,

So I took upon myself to aid the whole world:


Peace of mind at the cost of a lock,
I’ll clean dishes, dust dressers, change cat litter too,


If only to save people some stress.”

The Inspector shrugged, he could find no fault


With his nemesis’ master plan,
And indeed wished to laugh at its simple beauty,


Thinking, “why hadn’t I thought of that?”

“So tell me one thing,” our Constable prompted,


“If you don’t mind at all.”
“Not a bit,” said the man, “Not a bit for a tick”


The policeman readied his query,

“You could be a rich man, with your skill and tact,


Should you wish to bilk the wealthy,”
The young man smiled at the kind compliment,


And stretched back in his chair,

“So why,” said the Cop, “do you help all these folks


With no thanks for the skills with which you’re blessed?”
“It’s really quite logical,” the young man replied,


“I just can’t abide a mess.”


------
Grizzled veteran of the Console Wars



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