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The well-appointed parlor was bathed in early morning sun streaming through the large bay windows and bringing with it the promise of a new day. As usual, the corpse lay on the floor. Her head had been bludgeoned, a red pool beneath her still form. My boss, Harry Slothe, World Famous Private Investigator, wheeled clumsily into the room in the chair built specifically to hold his 300+ pounds.
"Hmmm," muttered Slothe. He turned to me. "Mr. Baloney, be good enough to reduce the volume on that television. I must examine the crime scene and I find the din of chattering Democrats disruptive." I hastily turned off the political program and glanced at the victim's husband, standing over his wife's prone body. Mr. Slothe addressed the man.
"You are Miles Constantine, the financier?"
"Yes, I am," the man replied, trying to wipe the blood from his right hand before extending it to Mr. Slothe.
"I believe you were at home when your wife was murdered?"
"Yes, I killed her."
"And did you hear anything unusual?" Slothe queried.
"There was a bit of a crackling sound," Constantine answered, "when I bashed her head in with my golf trophy." He still held the bloody object in his left hand.
"And did your wife say anything - think carefully, Mr. Constantine, for even the most seemingly unimportant utterance can be vastly enlightening to the trained mind."
"Well, yes, she did, now that you mention it. She said, 'Miles, stop hitting me with that golf trophy. You're killing me. KILLING ME!'"
"And that was all?" asked Mr. Slothe.
"Yes. She didn't say anything more after I smashed her in the skull again."
"I see. I see." The huge criminologist was turning over the evidence in his mind, though to the casual observer he appeared to be sleeping, even snoring. Finally he spoke. "I wonder, Mr. Constantine, if you could give my assistant, Mr. Baloney, a dollar for a cup of coffee?"
"He has a job, doesn't he? Let him buy his own coffee."
My boss smiled. "Never mind, Mr. Constantine. You can save your dollar to buy favors in prison - which is where I'm sending you for the murder of your wife!"
HOW DID HARRY SLOTHE KNOW THAT MILES CONSTANTINE HAD KILLED HIS WIFE?
Constantine was a financier, a golfer, and unwilling to give a dollar to help his fellow man - clearly the actions of a Republican. Yet the television was tuned to a program featuring Democrats, obviously the choice of Mrs. Constantine, and one that would prove to be her fatal undoing. For Mr. Slothe realized that the incessant liberal bellyaching had driven the stalwart conservative to murder. Though the case was purely circumstantial, later forensic evidence supported Mr. Slothe's conclusions.