Fatal Fiction
FLASH FICTION: An open and shut (book)case
The crime scene investigator unwrapped yet another mint humbug from her stash and sucked on it thoughtfully as she gazed at the pair of size six feet, clad in fancy leopard-print stilettos, that stuck out from beneath a toppled bookcase.
Isla found herself transported back to good times spent watching the Wizard of Oz on telly when she and her brother were kids. No freakish flying monkeys here though. Or even rainbows, come to that.
The deceasedâs substantial hardwood bookcase had been stuffed full of what used to be called bonkbusters back in the â80s but were now coyly rebranded as Womenâs Fiction. To buy some time while making her preliminary assessment, Isla counted up how many different Jackie Collins titles lay strewn across the parquet flooring. Just shy of thirty. Impressive. Practically the full set.
The other occupants of the room held their collective breath while Islaâs internal deliberations were in full flow. She was renowned among the force for her laser-sharp summing up of a crime scene, which inevitably saved many man hours of dispiriting door-to-door conversations with unreliable eyewitnesses.
âMurder,â she eventually proclaimed, before dipping her hand back into the crumpled paper bag of sweets sold from a jar by that nice chap who ran the corner shop.
âFeels personal to me. Motive? Obsession, perhaps. Or revenge...â
Local plod raised a sceptical eyebrow. âBurglary gone wrong?â
Isla treated him to an eye roll in return.
âUnlikely. No self-respecting professional thief wouldâve left those box fresh Jimmy Choos behind. Worth about five hundred quid per foot.â
âWell, who then?â
âI suggest you cherchez lâhomme.â
âDo what?â plod blinked in confusion.
âFind the burly bloke that killed her,â Isla explained in the tone of someone speaking to a small child. âItâs always the husband or boyfriend. Probably hates romance novels. More of a Baldacci aficionado, Iâd say, if the half-finished book on the side tableâs anything to go by.â
âJust a shame the victim didnât buy a cheap self-assembly bookcase from IKEA instead of this weighty slab of designer shelving, then she wouldnât have ended up in her present squashed state.â
And with that parting shot, Isla left them all to it.
Another crime wrapped up in the time it took for her to eat a few hard-boiled sweeties.


Love the language in this from telly, bonkbuster, plod and sweets from the jar by the bloke at the corner shop. It feels like as Penny says a combo of Colombo and High Potential. Fab.
I find her a fun combination of Columbo and Morgan (High Potential).