Words required:

mischievous, pronunciation, exaggerate, individual, parliament, environment, restaurant, determined, sufficient, opportunity.

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'A group of owls or rooks,' Jean read out the crossword clue. It wasn't often she got the first try at the puzzle but Lucien had left it lying around while he went to answer the phone and now she had it. She had managed three answers so far.

'Pardon?' Lucien put the phone down having told Alice he would be at the mortuary in the morning. The case they were working on was complicated and Alice had phoned to say the bruises on one individual were maturing nicely.

'The clue is 'a group of owls or rooks.' She turned and smiled at him as he returned to the living room.

'Jean!' Lucien laughed, 'you beat me to it.'

'How often do I get the chance to start the crossword?' She asked, 'you've usually finished it by the time I get to even glance at it.'

He sat next to her and she leant against his shoulder, 'Parliament.' He whispered in her ear, 'the answer is 'parliament.' I suppose because, in the case of owls, they are wise.'

'Whoever said a politician was wise?' Jean filled the boxes in.

'Cheeky.' He kissed the top of her head.

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Alice and Lucien looked at the body on the table. He was young, fairly fit looking and Alice did not exaggerate when she said there were a lot of bruises, it would be easier to say where he hadn't been hit that where he had. Someone had been determined to make sure this lad suffered.

'X-rays, Dr Harvey?' Lucien sighed.

'Like a jigsaw puzzle.' She put the films up on the light box.

Lucien stood and looked at the pictures of the mangled skeleton, a jigsaw puzzle was a good description. The young man had been left behind a local restaurant, shoved into a garbage bin, a leg and arm sticking out. It was a badly lit environment, very little room to manoeuvre. Hobart and Charlie had done their best but they were going to take the opportunity of early morning sun to search the area. Ned and Chief Inspector Lawson were going to interview the restaurant manager and kitchen staff. The place was closed until the body had been identified and the murderer apprehended.

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The manager sat in his office with a face as black as thunder, this incident was not helping him turn a profit, and he told the Chief Inspector so.

'Mr Robichowd,' Ned opened his notebook as the manager rolled his eyes.

'You do not speak French, Constable.' He said, grimacing at Ned's pronunciation of his name, 'Rob ee cho' He enunciated.

'Mr Robichaud,' Ned continued and slipped the photograph of the dead boy across the desk, 'do you know this man?'

'No,' Robichaud snapped, 'now, go away, I have work to do.'

'I have work to do, too, Sir.' Ned replied icily, 'My work is to find out who this person is and how he died.'

Matthew stood and watched Ned, it was not often the young constable was given the chance to interview anyone at the scene of a crime. He was keeping his head rather well.

'Now,' Ned continued, 'who had access to your bins?'

'Anyone can get to the bins,' Robichaud huffed.

'I beg to differ, sir,' Ned countered, politely, 'the gates to the alley way were locked. Our doctor and officers had to go through the kitchen when your cook reported finding the body.' He stood and waited for the man to say something, but he continued to shuffle papers on his desk and ignore Ned. Ned tapped his notebook with his pencil, then slapped the book on the desk.

'Sir, I don't know how they treat the police in France but here in Australia we expect to be treated with respect.' He leaned down and stared at the man, 'now I can suggest that this restaurant is closely looked at by the health people, maybe have your books checked by the tax officials.' He stood up, the Frenchman was small and rotund, even if he did decide to make a run for it, Ned knew he wouldn't get far,

'He has been a waiter, not a good one,' he grunted, 'I sack him.'

'When?' Ned carried on staring.

'Last week, sometime, I don't remember.' Robichaud waved Ned away.

'Well, you'd better start remembering!' Matthew was getting annoyed with this jumped up little incomer and his dismissal of the young officer. Ned watched his superior officer with a smile. Lawson was a good boss but he didn't like people who stonewalled investigations.

Robichaud looked up at Matthew, his mouth open in surprise.

'Books!' Matthew yelled, 'records of wages paid! Come on, get 'em out!'

The books were thrown onto the desk and Matthew opened them. He couldn't fault the meticulous accounts, but what he was looking for was the last payment made to the young lad, who Robichaud now told them was called Graham Stubbs.

'So his last pay was issued on Friday, last week.' Matthew ran his finger down the figures on the page.

'It says so.' Robichaud grunted.

'Constable Simmons,' Matthew turned to his young colleague, 'go and talk to the cook, and then the other staff.'

'Boss,' Ned left, he knew he had to get sufficient information to start to close the case. He didn't like Robichaud, he was rude; being rude would not endear you to the police.

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The cook was a pleasant chap, they sat over coffee and one of his pastries, which was delicious.

'Graham was a mischievous sort of lad. He was liked by all the customers, passing the time of day with them, helping them to choose their dishes.' He smiled. 'The boss didn't like that much friendliness, he said it was not proper to be so familiar. But it was Graham that shared his tips with us. He said we deserved it, we cooked the meal he only served it.' The cook looked down, 'I'm gonna miss the kid.' he added, sorrowfully.

'Any idea who would want to kill him?' Ned asked.

'Apart from the boss, no.' He replied.

'So when was Graham last here?'

'Two nights ago,' The cook said, 'he came to ask the boss for a reference, he had a job interview.'

'What was Mr Robichaud's reaction?' Ned thought he had a good idea.

'He told him to leave, he was not getting a reference.' Cook sat up, thinking about the scene the previous night, 'he wasn't friendly. In fact he was downright nasty. He chased him through the kitchen shouting at him and shaking his fists.'

Ned sat and thought,

'Why chase him through here? The only way out would be over the gates, and he was found in the bin.'

'Dunno.' Cook sat back in his chair and thought, then it hit him, 'Graham never came back through, the boss came through, muttering something in French and dusting off his hands.' He looked at Ned, 'you don't suppose..?'

'Back in a tick.' Ned got up and shot out of the kitchen back to the office.

'Boss!' He called to Matthew, 'look at his hands.'

Ned may have been the quiet one in the office but he listened, a lot. Especially to Dr Blake.

Matthew grabbed Robichaud's hands; bruised and scraped knuckles.

'It was you!' He shouted.

'All he was doing was trying to make a living,' Ned looked at him, 'you didn't like how friendly he got with the customers, well I don't know about you, Chief Inspector, but I like a friendly waiter, makes me want to come back.' Not that Ned ate out often.

'Too right, constable, too right.' Matthew glared at Robichaud, 'right you, you're under arrest for the murder of Graham Stubbs. Take him to the cells, lad.'

'Boss.' Ned grabbed the man's arm.

'Oh, and constable,' Matthew stopped him, 'well done.'

'Thanks boss.'

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These challenges are as much a challenge to me as they are to the pupils.