The Body In The Library, at That Old House

The other morning, after The Colonel had left
for work, Gilda the maid woke me, frantic and fearful.

"Oh Ma'am, come quick," she barked in her distress.

"There's a body bag in the library!"

I hurried into my dressing gown and flew down

the front stairs, following Gilda's lead.

And there it was: a body bag.

  We did not dare to touch it, for fear of what we might discover.

"Who could be behind this?"  I asked my trembling housemaid.

She gave me a wise look.

"I hate to say this, Ma'am, but I think it is
your wastrel son, Dylan.  He's been hanging out with
one of them Bunnies, a girl who's no better
than she should be, if you know what I mean."

Sadly, I did know what Gilda meant.
I'd actually seen Dylan sleeping with this Bunny!

Would our Dylan commit a crime for love of this Bunny?
She was not the first to catch his eye.  

I'd seen Dylan sharing his bed with 
dozens of loose-living characters, some of whom had so little
backbone or moral fortitude that it was as if
their very stuffing had been removed.  
  
Gilda went on.
"And the other day, Ma'am, I saw Dylan acting
very suspicious in the Sunroom.  Sneaking around, he was,
and goin' places that he shouldn't oughta go."

Tough love.
I believe it is the only way to raise young ones,
and so I called the local cops who came
and took Dylan away for questioning.

So there our boy sits, in the local lockup.

What - or who? - is in the body bag?
What was Dylan's plan?
And what has happened to the soft and silky Bunny,
who has been missing since this incident began?

Did I do the right thing, handing our boy over to the police?

I had a moment's doubt, when I caught sight of
Gilda the Housemaid getting rather chummy with the Colonel:

   
And then there is that second body bag that I found
stuffed in the coat closet.  Empty.  And just my size, too.  

 Uh-oh.

This may not have a happy ending.

"I'm innocent, I tell ya.  I'm INNOCENT!"

***********************************
Yes, you are right.
Absolutely NOTHING is going on here at
That Old House.  That makes me get silly.  -- Cass