The Private Investigator

I had seen it all before, the damsel in distress type. But this dame was as sly and irregular as a working washing machine. She came to me right when I was closing; she entered my office while I was about to telegram the Sultan of Bhutan my results(The execution was eloquently applied, said he). This had angered me slightly, but her fragrant aroma reminded me of wild lilacs. "Well, little missy, see here, see, I got 5 minutes before I close this dusty place up. " She looked frightened, but then grinned. She spoke. "I is not here to make trouble, my good man. I am here to inquire about a murder." Murder, I thought? "Murder?" I said. "Yesss, MURDER!" I then pulled a facinatating fact out of the air and thought this would impress this stupid dame. "Did you know a flock of crows are a murder? Is this ironic? Why or why not?" The woman did not know what to say, but finally replied, "Anyway, I am here to see if you could help me." I am a Private Investigator. Murder is what I do. Well, I don't murder people, I solve the murder cases, privately. I thought about this. I laughed. "HAHAHA!" She looked at me as if I was just released from an insane asylum. I had to speak, "Of course. Murder. I'll get on it right away. First, please tell me the parametres of your case?" The dame stood silent as an iceberg in a Mohegan winter. "It's my... plant. It was very special to me, and... I THINK SOMEONE POURED SALT IN IT'S SOIL!" I had a fresh pie on my desk, and while I did wish to eat it, I would rather hit this dame in the face with it. So I did. "SPLAAAT!" said the noise of the pie hitting her in the face. I lost the title of "P.I." soon afterwards.