It's Only Rain
Rain is boring.
So thought DC Neville James Preece as he drove his battered squad car through one of the more insalubrious parts of Precinct 59, New Singapore. Rain stops people from doing what they enjoy, makes them stay indoors and sulk and huff and complain. And sometimes, thought the detective, it stops you from doing your job.
How on earth was he supposed to work in these conditions? The brown silage-like substance that was sluicing over the squad carís guttering Ė and, in places, through the squad carís guttering Ė would rinse any crime scene clean of fibres and fragments, diluting blood samples and contaminating DNA on its filthy way. He would have to call in the full forensic works if he wanted even the tiniest sample taken Ė anthropologists, limnologists, toxicologists, every kind of cleaner, sweeper, duster and swabber he could lay his -
Beside him, his passenger stirred from her slumber. "Looks like we wonít have much joy today," he told her gently.
"Oh, donít be silly," came the reply, "We can still go to the park. After all, itís only rain."
DC Neville James Preece smiled and sighed.
Sometimes, he mused, it takes a six-year-old to put these things in perspective.
They drove on through the rain.
submitted at 6:13pm
12 November 2009
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