Aging limbs

Of this old man,

But he still does

All he can.

Cooks his dinner;

Makes his bed;

Gets his pension

To buy his bread.

His old ticker,

Although now weak,

Keeps on ticking,

Week after week.

Until one day,

Tradgedy ensues.

He has died.

But wait! I see clues!

A blood stained carpet

"It's all over his floor"

A trail of blood,

"It leads to the door!"

"This man did not die

Of natural causes!"

I go through my head

Thinking up clauses.

Who could it be?

Someone with an old aggrievance?

Or maybe his son,

Afterhis old man'sinheritance?

"We've tested the blood"

Said Dr. Meth

"And there is no longer a mystery

About this man's death".

He reached in my coat

And pulled out a thing,

That I thought had been more well hidden,

But it appeared not to have been.

It wasmy hankercheif,

Stained with the blood,

Of this old man,

"Explian this, you could?"

So onto my knees,

I was dropped,

By my fellow Inspector,

Constable Plod.

So I was the murderer,

I thought nobody knew,

But If you tell anyone:

I Will Murder You.