Murder Next Door

The detective inspector strutted around the scene of the crime, her head jerking backwards and forwards as she walked.

The body lay stricken in front of its pen with little sign of injury, its head lolling, beak open and eyes staring. DS Flight tried not to think how long it would be before the maggots would make those eyes disappear. She hated the way bodies were eaten from the ground upwards so you would think they were only just dead – until they were rolled over and nothing was left underneath.

Hopefully the owner would come by soon and clear up this poor victim.

Flight felt she probably had all the information from the scene she was likely to get.

To be honest, the bird was out of her jurisdiction, but the pigeons from the other pen were of poor breeding stock, bred for speed rather than wit, and had no law enforcement to speak of.

“When did he get back from his trip out?” Flight asked a concerned hen, her feathers a quiver with fear. “

“We were all asleep – we don’t know,” the hen replied. “To think he was only ruffling his feathers at me a few hours ago. It could be any of us next.”

“Stay inside your pens for the time being and only go near your owner,” advised the DS. “I’m going to make some more enquiries. I’ll be back later.

As Flight headed towards her cage, she heard the door open at the top of the tower block where the pigeons’ pens were housed. She quickly spread her wings and flew into her coop.

Two humans emerged – her owner and a young boy. It was her owner’s offspring. He was trying to interest the youngster in pigeon racing and so far it was working. The young boy spotted the dead body on the floor and ran over. “Dad!” He cried. “See this!” He bent over the bird. “Don’t touch that!” His dad warned. He walked over to the crime scene. “Oh look at that! Bloody poison!” “Dad!” Cried the child, shocked at the turn of language from his parent.

“Humm – just as I thought,” mused DS Flight. There were several racing pens on the top of the tower block. Pigeon racing was a popular sport for the inhabitants and becoming extremely competitive.

“We just like to fly and get back for a bit of easy nosh,” thought the bird. “But sometimes that comes with a high price. Must be to do with the argument the other owner had with the dead bird’s owner. Mentioned something about ‘gambin’? Not even sure what it is. Must be extremely tasty!”

The limp pigeon was picked up by Flight’s owner. “We’ll take it down to Dave,” said the human, sadly. “One of his best birds. This used to be such a friendly sport.”

Flight decided she’d had enough excitement for one day and pecked at her food. She’d report back tomorrow. She stuck her head under her wing and within minutes was asleep.

This was the ‘homework’ for 17.10.07. Please let me know what you think! PS It was inspired by indi-pop band, The Pigeon Detectives. I wonder: are they detectives for pigeons or are they detectives who ARE pigeons???

(C) Louisa Davison

%d bloggers like this: