Sweet Ginny

“Yes, yes. And this hound—”

“Wolf, inspector. Of that I have no doubt,” the master cut in provoking a groaning expression on the exasperated inspector’s face.

“Quite… wolf then. It stalked you home did it?”

“Aye, it did that, inspector. With a hungry look in it’s eyes.”

“Hungry you say?”

“As starving and blood-thirsty a look as I ever did see, inspector.”

“Indeed.”

The long cloaked inspector marched around the room as though he owned it.

“It took my sweet Ginny!”

Ate her to be precise, ground her little body down and left only little pieces on the master’s doorstep.

“Took her you say?”

“Aye, inspector. She’s dead; I know it in my heart. Poor sweet Ginny.”

There was nothing sweet about her.

“I have gone over the scene with a fine-tooth comb, I assure you and I have found no such evidence to suggest that this girl—”

“Ginny, inspector.”

“Quite. I have found no evidence of foul play. Perhaps she has seen sense to move on to pastures new so to speak?”

“My Ginny would never leave me!” the master cried aghast.

Pity.

“I am sorry, sir. But you will just have to come to terms with the fact that the sweet woman whom you claim to love has left you.”

The inspector said his goodbyes and left the master to collapse in tears next to my bed.

“Oh Horus!” he wept, “My sweet Ginny is gone!”

I lick his hand. Yes, yes she is.

I must admit; though her nature was cruel, she sure tasted sweet.

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