What have we got here?
Boys on the way to school found her.
They touch the body, move anything?
Nah, they were so scared they took off running.
Got an ID? Got any identifying marks?
Nope, dress has no pockets, probably just a tart.
Or a goddess, Lenny, you know it’s hard
To tell ‘em apart on the road in the dark.
Morgue got a surprise, seems our girl
Was still alive and zipped out of the bag in a whirl
That’d send Taz into a tizzy, cussed like a pirate
And screamed, “Arrows! Lampwax! Light!
So no homicide—what have we got?
We got a drunk dropped in an empty lot.
No foul play it seems, but might as well be sure.
Let’s run her vitals and learn some more.
She’s not married but was living with some guy.
Apparently he works days and doesn’t know why
She showed up unconscious outside his house.
He swears they’re all good, that he’s no louse.
Captain says that to her it sounds kinda fishy,
That we ought to talk to this chick, this Aphrodite,
The mother-in-law might know something about
The reason Psyche’s situation is in doubt.
Dead end with the love goddess, boss.
Swears her son adores the girl, absolutely star-crossed.
Looks like this is a case for the DHS,
Let’s let the social workers handle this mess.
Ringgggg. Brisko. When? All right. Got it.
Seems our girl’s sisters have both just bought it.
I knew there was a crime in this story.
Let’s pick up Psyche before it gets more gory.