Gutted

"It is cold and wet," said David.

"That's because he is a dead swimmer," said Mike. "He was found at the bottom of the swimming pool, with the other gutted fish."

"Gutted fish?" asked David.

"He swam like one," said Mike. "And he died like one."

"Died like one?" asked David.

"Yes, on the filleting table with his friends," said Mike. "A sharp knife was run from his pubic bone to his throat."

"Oh," said David. He was trying not to picture that image.

"The fillets were removed," said Mike. "The shit shoot was pulled out. The head was left attached to the spine. That is real skill. What was left was thrown back into the water with the mates he swam with."

"I thought you said swimming pool?"

"Well, a huge pond really."

"Do we know who did it?"

"The Fisherman," said Mike. "It has all the hall marks..."

"The hallmarks?"

"We've seen this before."

"Oh, I see."

"Yes, the way he was cut open."

"I see."

"The entrails were flicked across the grass."

"Oh?"

"The head and the spine still attached."

"Jesus!"

"And... the medical precision of the removal of his fins. The roe milked. That sort of stuff."

"The roe?"

"Don't ask."

"Do you think it is a doctor?"

"I think it is some psychopath."

"So a lawyer then?"

"Most likely," said Mike. "You know what they are like."

"What they are like?"

"Gutting the world for their own gain."

"I hear they eat their young," said David.

"Those baby sharks, the law clerks who are worked to death," said Mike. "They either die by drowning at their work stations, being pushed aside by the next baby shark to claim their birth right, or they grow into great whites to fulfil their destiny and to take their place at the western front of the destruction of the world."

"And this guy?" David pointed to the pile of bodies in the bottom of the pool.

"He probably belonged to a community organisation," said Mike. "They hate that the most," said Mike. "Any thing that interferes with the money machine."

"Poor bastard."

"You can only swim up stream for so long."

"Excuse me sir?" There was a handsome plain clothes officer who had approached them with some thing in his hand.

"What is it Meeks?" asked Mike.

"We found a wallet, with some identification inside."

"Good work," said Mike. "What's his name?"

"Paul Salmon."

"Ah, good to know," said Mike.

"Poor bastard," said David.

"I know," said Mike. "You wouldn't be dead for quids, now would you..."

"Not like that."

"I guess we're done here," said Mike. "Wrap it up."

Constable Jasper picked up a huge sieve and headed over to the pond. Constable Meeks produced sheets of white butcher's paper and started laying them on the ground.

Sargent Lemon appeared. "Do you need me?"