The girl next door was a nice lass. I had only spoken to her a couple of times, but I had seen her going out on several occasions. Early twenties, slim, long dark hair and a penchant for short skirts, split skirts, tight trousers and loose tops. She tended to be out late most nights, working as a barmaid. She seemed quite, sober, respectable. Never any noise from her flat, no loud music, no arguements. I wished that I could get to know her better, having been seperated for four years, but I could think of no reason why she should be interested in me.

That all changed one night in early spring. Coming home from a friends house I was not surprised to notice no lights in her flat. However, as I got to my front door, I noticed that there was some mess in her back garden, that hadn't been there earlier. I went to investigate, and found her back door wide open, and her home in one hell of a mess. Drawers tipped out, food scattered everywhere. Broken china, broken glass all through the house, and all sorts in the garden. The back door had been forced. Touching nothing, I went to call the police.

That was when my life changed. Her laundry basket had been emptied in the back garden. A pair of her pants was lying on the ground in front of me. Dirty pants. Very dirty. It looked as if she had taken a good dump in them. I picked them up, looked at them, smelt them. Lovely.

I couldn't leave these for the police to find, or anything else like them. Were there more? A quick inspection found several more pairs of dirty pants, as well as stained dresses and skirts, and unusually stained sheets. I KNOW that spunk isn't brown.

I couldn't leave all of that for the police. The poor girl would be mortified. I quickly gathered up all that I could find, and then went and called the police.

Ten minutes later blue lights heralded the arrival of the police. I went out and told them all that I knew, which wasn't a lot. Then I sat back and waited to see what would happen......(cont)