When Buffy saw the body, she gazed fascinated until guilt told her to stop. Clothes: City smart, if a bit baity. Skirt above the knee. Legs not really good enough.
The police went to work with spooky efficiency, moving methodically, quiet as church mice. Yes, they actually wear those dreadful white boiler suits.
A dirty laugh echoed in the “cauldron of death”, as Fred had waggishly renamed the ‘crime’ scene. A bored cop had gone for dark humour and speculated that Little Miss Loaded probably popped down to the pond for a piss. And got her knickers in a twist. The truth was only slightly different.