For https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-101-more-freewrite-history-and-a-contest-of-sorts
Voila! The detectives looked at the eggs. Overdone, it seemed, but by whom!? The list of suspects was long and hard, like a very normal plank of wood, probably a two by four.
The water still simmered.
"Turn that blasted thing off," Hollered McGee, the more svelte of the two detectives.
Carbine went ahead and flipped it off. "Looks like lunch was over, and this was just a crime of passion."
But who could hate eggs so much? The pastry chef was known to have had frustrating run-ins with runny yolks, but this wasn't her style. She was butter than that.
Ooof.
The sous chef was more likely to sue a victim than offer it death by hot bath...
Could it be? The picky eater just happened to stroll by at that moment. She popped her head in, but then-
Klompf!
The pigeon! There was a pigeon roosting in the windowsill. It had a devious look in its one good eye. The other eye wandered. An empty nest. This was no breakfast murder, this was a cold blooded killing by a cold blooded bird. Redundancy aside, birds of a feather sometimes murder together. The raven's murder, that is.
