Skinner’s round

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Looks just as if he'd drowned in Lambrusco, doesn't it, sir?' `Remember who this is, Neil. If this bloke went under in anything, it'd be pink champagne.'

Aye, I suppose so. But what a way to go, eh. There's something.. what's the word?… something Romanesque, about it, isn't there?' Detective Sergeant Neil Mcllhenney beamed with a shy pride at the description dredged up from the silted depths of his vocabulary. 'If those boys fell out with the old Emperor they'd just jump into the bath and open an artery.

But to jump into a Jacuzzi, now that's style.'

The other man chuckled grimly, in spite of himself. 'Ha! The Emperor Michael! From what I've heard of the man, he'd have had a laugh about that one. He was a bit more modest than that.' He paused, examining the tiled exterior of the raised oval tub.

I dare say he'll have a funeral fit for a Caesar, though, when the time comes. For now he's just a stiff in a bathtub, buggering up our quiet Sunday.' He looked around the tiled walls.

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