Lucy was devastated; her tears barely conveyed the sorrow she felt for such a waste of life. She surveyed the crime scene before her; a lone parking lot with the remains of her friends smeared across the oily cement.
“I don’t know how I will go on without them! Lenny and Lou were such good friends,” she lamented to the policeman standing beside her. “When will the coroner be presenting their findings? I want to be there.”
The policeman let out an ragged sigh before answering in an even tone, “Miss. There won’t be a coronial inquest and I’m still not sure why I’m here.”
Lucy blinked uncomprehendingly at him.
“Miss. People don’t generally call emergency to report the death…”
“Murder!” She interjected.
“…murder,” he paused gently, “of snails.”