Thank you SO MUCH for donating to support Rahma’s family in Gaza! The family is trying to get enough money to evacuate from the north to central or south Gaza, which will cost about $2,000 for travel expenses and tents. If you have any friends who may also be able to help Rahma’s family, that link again for the fundraiser is here. I hope you enjoy this short anti-Zionist detective story.

Who Killed Dame Diana?

Although a murder investigation is never a happy occasion, Inspector Borkington was thrilled to meet the world-famous detective Monsieur Eng. He swept into the room with a swirl of his cape and he did not speak to the Inspector until he had examined every inch of the study and the locks on the windows and door. Inspector Borkington knew from her own examination that the locks did not appear to have been tampered with in any way. The body had been removed already, leaving only splashes of blood on a button-tufted chair.

“Pray, Inspector, please to review what we know about this crime,” said Monsieur Eng.

“The body of Dame Diana was found at 12:41pm by the butler and the entire houseparty. She was found stabbed with her own antique jewel-encrusted dagger. It was Dame Diana’s invariable custom to spend the morning hours alone in her study, meditating for the end of suffering in Gaza and the liberation of Palestinians and all beings. She would lock the doors from the inside so as not to be disturbed. Dame Diana did not respond to the gong for lunch or to the subsequent knocks on the door. Everyone in the house witnessed the butler taking what is said to be the only key to the study from its place on the hall mantlepiece and unlocking the door to the study. There was some confusion directly following the discovery of the body, but all the witnesses claim they did not disturb anything in the room. It was Cook’s afternoon off and the gardener has been discharged, so the only people in the house were the butler, the secretary, the nephew, and four house guests. According to all accounts, the only object missing from the room was the flowers, although there is still water in the vase.”

“Not one petal remains,” said Monsieur Eng. “Yet the scent still lingers.” He sniffed the air delicately. “They were poppies, were they not?”

“They were,” confirmed Inspector Borkington.

“Were they by any chance red?”

“How did you know?”

“That is not all I know,” Monsieur Eng said. “I know who the murderer is.”

“Already?” Inspector Borkington blurted out. She had been looking forward to observing Monsieur Eng interviewing the suspects one by one and finding out whose alibi was false. She had felt confident that she would prove to be just as intelligent as the legendary detective.

“But of course,” Monsieur Eng said. “Is it not obvious? Who benefits from this crime? Who had the motive? Who had the means? What heart has been clouded by hatred? Who has a long criminal record? This is the work of a murderer who has killed before—many times! I have been on the trail of this remorseless killer for years.”

Inspector Borkington’s mind was in a whirl. She had already learned of a love triangle, Dame Diana’s two wills, blackmail, and a suspicious resemblance between the butler and the faces in Dame Diana’s family portraits. There were almost too many clues, too many suspects.

“The murderer is the state of Israel!” said Monsieur Eng. “Dame Diana’s spiritual manifestations were getting too close to success. With every weapon in the world at their disposal, it was child’s play for Israel to murder her.”

“Of course!” cried out Inspector Borkington. “It’s so obvious. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Monsieur Eng smiled gently.

“But which one was the assassin acting for Israel?” asked Inspector Borkington. “Was it Colonel Nethercott, well-known to be a genocidal maniac? Was it the beautiful Cynthia Delgrave—perhaps a Mossad agent like the one who laid a honeypot trap for Mordechai Vanunu? Could it have been the vicar, Reverend Hinklesbee? He has been preaching bothsidesism from the pulpit for 6 months now. Or perhaps Alderwoman Oinkelsberry, who won’t entertain a ceasefire resolution because it’s too divisive for our village?”

She felt Monsieur Eng’s piercing gaze on her.

“Or was it you, my dear Inspector?” he asked. “Your police unit trained in what are quaintly known as the Palestinian Occupied Territories. Where you were at the top of the class in extrajudicial execution!”

Inspector Borkington knew the game was up.

Monsieur Eng said, “Even as we speak, Bibi Netanyahu, Bougie Herzog, Itamer Ben-Gvir, and Major General Itzhak Brik are riding in a special train car with the windows blacked out, on their way to The Hague, where they will be tried for all of their crimes, including the lamentable murder of Dame Diana. I’m sure they will be quick to name you amongst their many accomplices. The mills of God grind slowly but they grind exceedingly small, my dear Inspector. Justice will be served.”