The sad spectacle of Gary Tweedy's van sat, disconsolate, on the bank of the River Snare. Water was pouring out from beneath the doors, weeds hung from side view mirrors and draped themselves across the windscreen. Sergeant Stumpsfield waved off the photographer from The Ealham Observer and turned to Yaxley Farcett and Brian Worthington. His uniform was soaked. He was caked in slub. He was happy.
"Lucky you called in a professional, Farcett. You may have responsibility for drainage and river related crime in this area but when it comes to aquatic retrieval, you needn't look any further than Sergeant Stumpsfield of Ealham. "Yeah..I've heard" muttered Yaxley to himself as Stumpsfield began to wave his arms about in the direction of the helicopter pilot. Since pulling the van from the depths, the helicopter pilot had 'parked' on the opposite bank. After a minute of arm waving which became a cross between a bookie at the races and one of those airforce chaps with table tennis bats on a runway, the pilot gave the three men the thumbs up and headed back towards Ealham.
"Well. What now ?" asked Yaxley of the other two. "Well, we can't stand here soaking wet all day, can we ?" replied Stumpsfield. "Let's get over to the station and see how the boys in the lab in Cambridge are getting on with the stuff I sent them. We'll get a brew on and give them a ring". The three men began to slither along to the Police Car at the side of the road when Yaxley stopped suddenly. He turned on his heel and returned to the van. He grabbed hold of the passenger side 
door and yanked it open. A few gallons of river water proceeded to empty themselves all over his, now destroyed, suede shoes. He swore, reached in and pulled out the electronic speech gizmo that they had discovered in the telephone kiosk. Retracing his steps, he reached the road and climbed into the back of Stumpsfield's patrol car. Yaxley slumped down in his seat, crossed his arms and quite possibly stuck his bottom lip out. Things were not going too well. Brian Worthington looked over his shoulder at Farcett.
door and yanked it open. A few gallons of river water proceeded to empty themselves all over his, now destroyed, suede shoes. He swore, reached in and pulled out the electronic speech gizmo that they had discovered in the telephone kiosk. Retracing his steps, he reached the road and climbed into the back of Stumpsfield's patrol car. Yaxley slumped down in his seat, crossed his arms and quite possibly stuck his bottom lip out. Things were not going too well. Brian Worthington looked over his shoulder at Farcett. "Wos up Yaxley ?" he asked, "We'll soon get dried off at the Police Station. You've got showers heve'nt yew Stumpy ?" Stumpsfield nodded, "Course we hev. Yew can put on some clean clothes out of lost property, as long as you're not too fussy. Ol' Jack Miller yor predecessor never minded. He were always getting soaked like this for some reason or another". Brian laughed and said, "Like that time they found that body in Hadlode drain ?" Stumpsfield let out a booming laugh at the thought and said, "Oh yeah. That were a gooden. Old Sid Oxborough had found a dead body floatin' in the weeds. Been there for bloody weeks he thought. Anyway, the body was riddled 
with eels, swarming in and out of the body, if yew know what I mean ?'
with eels, swarming in and out of the body, if yew know what I mean ?' At the thought of this, Yaxley's hangover made a slight return and he nodded to indicate he knew exactly what Stumpsfield was getting at. "Any road", continued Stumpsfield, " Jack Miller liked his eels. He used to eat what he could and sell the rest to the Skaters for their pub grub. So they'd got this body up on the bank and Jack was filling a net with all these bloody eels. So, Sid Oxborough turns to Jack and says 'I 'spose yew'll be calling for an ambulance or somethin' ?' Jack Miller looks at his net full of eels, then looks down at this poor old body and says 'No. Let's chuck the bugger back in for a couple of more days'.
