8 8. The Clinic Murders.

"Steel covered in iron oxide."

I looked at the eccentric crime detective, Barry Shelduck, who was leading my unit. He had this peculiar habit of saying a nonsensical line whenever he found a clue at a crime scene.

"What do you mean, Barry?" I asked.

"Frank Miller must have used this rusty knife to cut flesh. It is covered in blood." Barry replied. "Okay, but what does that have to do with your opening line?" I asked.

"Alana, you are such a simple mind. The rusty knife is made of steel. Once it rusts, iron-oxide covers it." Barry replied.

"Okay, thanks for the science lesson." I taunted.

Barry ignored my sarcastic tone, and he walked to a waste bin for biological waste. He opened the bin, and the stench of human lipids reached my nostrils. I held back my impulse to vomit.

"Ah. This is another clue." Barry said and pointed at some rust in the smelly human waste.

"I don't understand." I replied.

Barry gave me a dismissive look and replied. "Think Alana. Why would a plastic surgeon use a rusty knife to perform surgeries? Such a procedure would certainly cause tetanus infections, wouldn't you say?" Barry speculated.

"So, are you saying that he did it on purpose to harm his patients? Why?" I asked.

"Yes. So, I am asking you, what did Dr Frank Miller's patients have in common?" Barry asked.

"Umm, they were fat and wealthy. This is a liposuction clinic." I stated.

"Yes, but more importantly, all the victims were members of Tony the Albanians party. When they said they were going to cut the fat in government, they never meant to lower corruption, they meant it in the literal sense as in liposuction." Barry stated.

I considered Barry's words and my head was spinning. If someone was targeting the leadership of the Australian Unemployment Party, it must be a foreign power seeking to subdue our democracy. The future of our nation was at stake!

"We must contact the Prime Minister's Office and the Australian Federal Police at once. Our nation is under attack." I exclaimed.

Barry shook his head and replied. "That won't be necessary. I know who is behind Dr Miller's killing spree."

"Who?" I asked.

"Blair Willis, the director of the Personal Trainers Guild of Australia." Barry stated and pressed a button on Frank Miller's desk.

A hidden compartment opened and showcased a photograph of Frank Miller and Blair Willis lifting weights in the gym. It was an old photograph before Frank Miller had turned into the blob, who they now held in police custody.

"Ah. This is crucial evidence. We know that Frank Miller murdered those patients. We know that Blair Willis was against Tony the Albanian's proposal to include liposuction in Medicare, and we know that Blair and Frank were friends. Let's squeeze Blair for information." Barry suggested.

"Lead the way, detective." I replied and we headed for Blair Willis's office.

***

An hour later, we arrived at Blair Willis's office at the PTGA headquarters. I reflected over the hour that went by. We had been stuck in grid-locked traffic, and we had been sitting in a hot and stuffy car. The smarter choice would have been to walk for 10 minutes between the liposuction clinic and the fitness centre.

As Blair came to greet us, I had a terrible realisation. Blair was also fat! What hope was there for our collective fitness as a nation when the director of the personal trainer guild was fat? I made a mental note to stop the habit of eating doughnuts while stuck in my car during gridlocked traffic and start walking instead.

Barry approached Blair and spoke with a fake posh English accent. "Mr Willis, I presume?"

"Yes, you are standing at my office and my picture is on the door. Who else could I be?" Blair sneered.

Barry didn't let Blair's tone affect him and instead, he replied. "It has come to our attention that you had a connection with Dr Frank Miller."

"Yes. I had booked a liposuction appointment." Blair replied.

"Liposuction? But you are the director of the personal trainer guild?" I asked.

"Yes, so I cannot be fat, can I?" Blair replied.

"But why don't you exercise and eat healthy food? That's what your business is all about?" I objected.

"Yeah, I don't like any of those things. I like to make money from people by making them sweat and eat healthy. I use that money to buy beer and large greasy steaks." Blair admitted.

"But you are against including liposuction in Medicare?" I asked.

"Yes, if the plebs get free liposuction, that will ruin my gym business." Blair admitted.

"Enough. We have an admission. You knew the perpetrator and you had the means and motive to murder those members of parliament." Barry said and directed a police officer to bring Blair back to the police station.

I watched as they left, and I noticed a photograph of a woman on Blair's desk. I recalled seeing that woman somewhere in the past, but I couldn't remember when. I took a photo of the photograph and made a reverse-image search to find out who she was. After a while, I found a match. Her name was Chantelle Willis, and she was Blair's wife. However, where did I know her from?

I decided to clear my mind by walking back to the police station. I was sick of sitting in stuffy cars during grid-locked traffic and I believed some oxygen would help my brain.

***

'Fuck! I knew it.' I mumbled as I realised who Chantelle Willis was. She was one of Detective Barry Shelduck's many flings, and I had met her at a Christmas party a few years earlier. This had to mean something. I got up and walked towards Barry's office. While I feared that he might be involved in the murders, I had worked with him for many years and he deserved a chance to clarify things. I entered Barry's office and spoke: "Barry. I need to speak to you about Chantelle Willis."

Barry looked at me, nodded, and said with an afterthought. "I see. Would you like some biscuits and some tea?"

This was a tricky question. It was rude to say 'no' when someone offered refreshments, but I needed to lose weight. "I would love some tea. No biscuits though, I need to lose some weight." I said.

Barry nodded and poured me some tea. This reaction annoyed me. I wanted him to tell me that I wasn't fat. Yet if he did, I would have accepted the biscuits and gorged myself towards even worse obesity-related health issues.

I had a few sips of the tea, and I reflected over how rancid it tasted. What was wrong with Barry's teamaking? How could a true-blue Aussie, pretending to be a British aristocrat, be so terrible at making tea?

"So, what would you like to discuss when it comes to Chantelle Willis?" Barry asked.

"You were dating her last year, weren't you?" I asked.

"Yes. I made her a regular acquaintance of my life. I still do." Barry revealed.

I spit out my tea in shock and replied: "So, did you frame Blair Willis for his part in the murders?" "Yes. Dr Frank Miller was a deranged lunatic who hated his job. I suggested for him to go on a killing spree and murder his patients to discredit the liposuction industry. I also suggested that he would frame Blair Willis for being a hypocrite." Barry admitted.

"So, why are you giving me a full admission of guilt?" I asked.

"Because I poisoned your tea, so you'll experience a critical heart failure in a few moments. No-one will question why Fat Alana succumbed to her obesity, so it's the perfect murder." Barry taunted.

I clutched my chest and collapsed to the floor. While I should have seen the heart attack coming, I could never have imagined that it would happen like this. What a shitty way to die!

The End