Words required:

(homophones) were, where, of, off, no, know, there, their, they're, knew, new, whole, hole, which, witch, are, our, two , to, too; plus, signature, catches, bicycle, biscuit, weight, neighbour, dominoes, opportunities, thieves, responsibilities; for interest.

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Charlie was frustrated, there were some thieves going around Ballarat taking bicycles, and now his police issue bicycle had been lifted from beside the house when he nipped home to grab a bite to eat, which was really embarrassing.

The Boss was not pleased, 'For goodness sake, Davies!' He bawled at the officer, '...and the rest of you, you have had multiple opportunities to catch this lot.'

'But Boss, ' even Hobart was on Charlie's side. 'The bicycles have disappeared without trace, we don't see anyone riding round on them, nicked or otherwise.'

Matthew scratched his head, it was ridiculous. The thieves signature move appeared to be to wait until the bicycle had been propped up and swiftly rode away on it, the whole thing was wasting police time, they needed to be trying to find a murderer, not a group of, what was probably, youths having a laugh!

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Down in the morgue Dr Harvey and Dr Blake were equally confused with their latest case. The body of a man in his early fifties lay on the table. He was well dressed apart from his shoes which were shabby and the left one had a hole in the sole. He had been found behind the club, propped up against the wall where Cec left the empty crates for collection by the garbage disposal men. Cec didn't recognise him as a member or as a guest of one. His wallet was empty, so robbery had probably played a part in his death, but he didn't appear to have been assaulted.

As Lucien removed the clothing Alice examined each item, looking for clues as to how the man had died or who he was. Nothing. They examined the body, starting from the head. He didn't appear to have a head wound, and an x-ray showed the skull to be intact with no sign of bruising. The face was unmarked, but on examination there were signs of petechiae in the eyes. Lucien checked the mouth and spotted something right at the back of the mouth.

'Torch, please, Alice,' he said, 'there's something in here.'

Alice handed him the torch and held the lower jaw down to give a better view.

'Tweezers: there's definitely something there.' Alice passed the tweezers she was too intrigued to remind him she was not his slave. Lucien carefully put the tweezers to the back of the throat and gently pulled. It appeared to be cloth, lots of cloth! It kept coming, seeming to be never ending! Eventually, they had the article, a fine silk scarf, originally blue in colour but now stained with vomit.

'Suffocated,' Lucien remarked, sadly, 'what an awful way to die.'

'But how would they get him to stay still while they pushed it so far in?' Alice wondered, considering consigning her silk scarves to the bin, or at least the very back of the wardrobe.

Hmm...good point, my dear colleague.' Lucien mused. 'How indeed.'

'You don't suppose he tried to swallow it, do you?' She suggested. 'Trying to, oh I don't know, clear his airway.'

'Well, I suppose it could have been his idea,' Lucien looked at her, 'and I suppose a reaction, a bit like trying to clear a poorly chewed piece of food.'

'Perhaps some bruising round the mouth might show, if we leave him overnight.' She thought out loud.

'Possibly.'

They continued to examine the body, trying to see if there were any other signs of assault, bruising, scratches and the like. His chest had two hand prints showing and when they turned him over they could see corresponding marks on his back, where he had been pushed against the wall. There were no defensive wounds on his hands or wrists so it didn't look like he had put up a fight.

'Alice, we need bloods to see if he was drunk or drugged.' Lucien said, taking a syringe from the tray, 'no one is going to allow someone to push a silk scarf down their throat, willingly.' He drew the blood, 'it's very strange.'

'Right, well these will take twenty four hours, so shall we call it a day on this one?' Alice suggested.

'Got a hot date, Alice?' Lucien teased.

'None of your damn business,' she replied tartly, putting the sheet over the body and pushing it into the drawer.

'Right, of course, sorry.' Lucien gulped, he really should rein it in with Alice, teasing Matthew was all well and good, but he shouldn't tease her. 'You get off, I'll tidy up here.' His way of apologising. Alice swept out of the room trying to hide her smile, only Lucien and Jean knew she and Matthew were 'courting', and she wanted it kept that way, so did Matthew!

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Lucien sauntered into the house, there was a lovely smell of fresh baking. Sneaking into the kitchen he saw what Jean had been up to that afternoon. He took a warm biscuit off the tray and sampled the sweet, crumbly treat.

'Are you pinching biscuits, again, Lucien?' Jean called through from the living room. The advantage of that part of the house being open meant she could sit and knit and keep an eye on her cooking, and anyone sneaking a snack before dinner?

Caught!

'Umm, ' he mumbled through the crumbs, turning to see her smiling he grinned like a little boy. Swallowing, 'just testing, my dear. New recipe?'

'Yes, one Dorothy suggested.' She laughed at him, looking so contrite, 'thought you might like the hint of lemon in them.'

'They're lovely.' He went through to her and kissed her in greeting.

'Nothing beats your shortbread, though.'

'Flattery will get you nowhere, doctor.' She teased.

'Can't blame a chap for trying.' He kissed her again and went to hang his jacket up.

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Charlie was subdued at dinner, he'd had to walk home, the boss said if he could lose a bike at home then a car wouldn't be safe.

'You alright, Charlie?' Jean asked, passing him some potatoes.

'Yeah,' Charlie tried to smile, 'the thieves have struck again, nicked my pushie from here while I had dinner, boss won't let me have a car in case that gets nicked too, and we're trying to find out who your bloke in the morgue is, doc. Just a normal day in Ballarat.'

'I'm sure Matthew is only teasing about the car,' Jean soothed, 'but how many bicycles now?'

'Frankly, too many.' Charlie speared a potato , 'about ten, that's the ones that have been reported.'

'Well, look out for a bicycle sale.' Jean slapped Lucien's hand as it crept towards the potatoes. 'I'm not letting your trousers out, Lucien, you've enough on your plate. Anyway, you won't have room for dessert.'

Lucien's eyes lit up, pudding, now that was the best bit of news he'd had all day! Jean rolled her eyes, it was like living with two schoolboys and her husband was the worst!

'That's not a bad idea, Jean,' Charlie cheered up, 'ever thought of a career in the force?'

Jean ignored that, and carried on eating. Lucien ate quietly, thinking about his case.

'Now, can I help you with your case, Lucien?' She smiled.

'Anonymous body, suffocated with a silk scarf shoved down his throat. Mid fifties, reasonably well dressed but shabby shoes, one with a hole in.' Lucien recited, 'found behind the club. No external injuries apparent.'

'Mmm..' Jean mused, this was a trickier one than missing bicycles. 'Silk scarves on a man, rather effete, don't you think? Unusual in Ballarat, possibly theatrical. There's a play on at the theatre, company from outside town. Although it could be a woman, but silk scarves at this time of the year, I doubt it.' She got up to clear the plates leaving the two men staring at each other, opened mouthed.

'Close your mouths boys, it's not pleasant.' She said, over her shoulder, as she took the dessert off the side. Lucien grinned broadly as he saw she had made cherry tart, one of his favourites, but then Lucien did have a sweet tooth.

There was a knock at the door; Jean served the dessert while Lucien went to answer the door, it was likely for him.

He opened the door but there was no one in sight. Moving his hand over his head he closed the door and turned to go back to his dessert. As he moved his foot slipped on an envelope. He picked it up, addressed to him he opened it and read, creasing his forehead in irritation he took it back to the table.

'Who was it, dear?' Jean asked.

'Someone with a warped sense of humour.' He put the note on the table.

Charlie picked it up and read out loud,

'Push bikes for sale. Sunday, the old stables.'

It wasn't signed but when Jean looked at it she sighed,

'Typical.'

'What, it's just a joke, not a very funny one, but just a joke.' Lucien said, his mouth full of tart.

Jean raised her eyebrows at his lack of manners,

'It's our neighbour.' She said, crossly, 'you know, the old witch who spread all those rumours about us, before we married.'

Charlie was surprised to hear Jean be so uncharitable.

'It's alright, Charlie,' Lucien touched his arm, 'Jean and I could cope with most of the gossip but she was really vile. I take it you recognise the handwriting?' He turned to Jean. 'Our lives could be pretty unbearable sometimes, the vicious notes she wrote...' He reached over and squeezed her arm.

'Oh, it's definitely hers.' Jean confirmed, pushing her plate away, she had suddenly lost her appetite.

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Jean didn't drink her sherry either, the note had brought back all the horrid memories of gossip and snide remarks, but the worst had been their neighbour. Mindful of Lucien's responsibilities in the community, as GP and police surgeon she had restrained herself but it had been difficult. Now they were married most, but not all, of the mean comments had ceased. Lucien noticed the catches in her voice as she spoke and wondered how he could make her feel better. Perhaps he should just let her ride it out with a bit of extra loving thrown in.

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Sunday dawned, bright and warm. Jean, as usual, attended Sunday Mass and then headed off to the old stables to meet Lucien, Charlie and the men from the station, all in plain clothes. She smiled as she saw them and Lucien was pleased to see she had got over the note earlier in the week. The doors to the stables were opened to reveal rows of bicycles, and half a dozen young lads from the fairground ready to sell their ill gotten wares. There was a good number of locals who had come to look, possibly buy, some of whom had had their own bikes stolen.

Matthew instructed his men to let the auction get underway before starting anything. Charlie and Ned stood at one side, apparently interested observers, Bill and another young constable were at the other side. Matthew, together with Alice, Jean and Lucien stood at the back looking bored.

'Oy!' A man looking over the bikes shouted, 'that's my lad's!'

One of the blow-ins looked to his mates, nervously; while a woman called, 'Isn't this a police issue pushie?'

Then it all got a little wild. A bicycle was pushed over, it's weight toppling a row like dominoes.

Matthew turned to Alice and Jean, 'Ladies, if you would be so kind...' he indicated they should get themselves out of harm's way and shouted to his men, 'Bill, Charlie, go for it!'

The ladies moved out of the way while the officers and Lucien waded in to catch the thieves.

'Alice,' Jean looked at the bag her friend was carrying, 'is that a first aid kit?'

Lucien and Matthew are involved, Jean, of course it is.' She smiled.

'Good idea,' Jean whispered back grinning, although she could potentially have a damaged husband.

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Jean knew she could get everybody round the table, and had told Lucien that when they had finished charging the blow-ins, dinner would be waiting for them, that included Matthew, Bill and Ned, the other young constable lived with his parents and was expected home.

'Jean, it's us!' Lucien called as he and the team entered.

'Kitchen!' she called where she was putting the roast ready for carving and Alice was setting the table.

Lucien went up to Jean and kissed her, 'Smells good,' he remarked, 'you and the dinner.'

'Behave, dear, you'll embarrass Bill and Ned,' she teased, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

Over dinner they discussed the case and Matthew told them that the stables were locked until the following day when Ned and Charlie would help people to be reunited with their property.

'So now all we have to do is solve your murder,' Jean said.

'Done that too.' Lucien grinned. 'It turns out our man was from the theatre. He had caught one of the lads from the fairground taking one of the bikes and challenged him. The others took him behind the club and, as we all know, stuffed his scarf into his throat, took the contents of his wallet and left him to die.'

'So stupid, all over a bicycle.' Jean sighed.

'Too true, my dear, too true.' Lucien agreed.

Dinner over Bill and Ned left, Matthew and Lucien washed up and Jean and Alice sat down for a well deserved sherry.

'Whisky, Matthew?' Lucien offered, when they had finished their chores.

'Er, no thanks, Lucien,' he went slightly pink, 'I promised to run Alice home.'

Alice stood up, 'Thanks for dinner, Jean.' She smiled, 'See you tomorrow Lucien.'

'Thanks for your help, Alice.' Jean smiled back.

'Goodnight, all.' Matthew said and he escorted Alice out of the house.

'Well, no doubt about that, is there?' Lucien smirked at Jean.

'Don't you dare tease them.' She warned, smiling back.

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A little long for a challenge story, but who knew how hard it is to get all the homophones into one story?