Once More With Footnotes

Corporal Carrot to investigate a murder? All by himself?" said Vimes.
     
                  The sergeant scratched his head.
     
                  "Yessir. I said he ought to try to find a witness, sir. And he said to me, d id I know anyone very old and seriously ill?"
     
                  And on the magical Discworld, there is always one guaranteed witness to any homicide. It's his job.
     
                  Corporal Carrot, the Watch's youngest member, often struck people as simple. And he was. He was incredibly simple, but in the same way that a sword is simple, or an ambush is simple. He was also possibly the most linear thinker in the history of the universe.
     
                  He'd been waiting by the bedside of an old man, who'd quite enjoyed the company right up until just a few seconds ago, whereupon he'd passed on to whatever reward was due him. And now it was time for Carrot to take out his notebook.
     
                  "Now I know you saw something, sir," he said. "You were there."
     
                  WELL, YES, said Death. I HAVE TO BE, YOU KNOW. BUT THIS IS VERY IRREGULAR.
     
                  "You see, sir," said Corporal Carrot, "as I understand the law, you are an Accessory After The Fact. Or possibly Before The Fact."
     
                  YOUNG MAN, I AM THE FACT.
     
                  "And I am an officer of the Law," said Corporal Carrot. "There's got to b e a law, you know."
     
                  YOU WANT ME TO ... ER ... GRASS SOMEONE UP? DROP A DIME ON SOMEONE? SING LIKE A PIGEON? NO. NO ONE KILLED MR. SLUMBER. I CAN'T HELP YOU THERE.
     
                  "Oh, I don't know, sir," said Carrot. "I think you have."
     
                  DAMN.
     
                  Death watched Carrot leave, ducking his head as he went down the narrow stairs of the hovel.
     
                  NOW THEN, WHERE WAS I ...
     
                  "Excuse me," said the wizened old man in the bed. "I happen to be 107, you know. I haven't got all day." AH, YES. CORRECT.
     
                  Death sharpened his scythe. I t was the first time he'd ever helped the police with their enquiries. Still, everyone had a job to do.
     
    -
     
                  Corporal Carrot strolled easily around the town. He had a Theory. He'd read a book about Theories. You added up all the clues, and you got a Theory . Everything had to fit.
     
                  There were sausages. Someone had to buy sausages. And then there were pennies. Normally only one subsection of the human race paid for things in pennies.
     
                  He called in at a sausage maker. He found a group of children, and chatte d to them for a while.
     
                  Then he ambled back to the scene of the crime in the alley, where Corporal Nobbs had chalked the outline of the corpse on the ground
     
                  (colouring it in, and adding a pipe and a walking stick and some trees and bushes in the backgro und — people had already dropped 7p in his helmet). He paid some attention to the heap of rubbish at the far end, and then sat down on a busted barrel.
     
                  "All right ... You can come out now," he said, to the world at large. "I didn't know there were any gnom es left in the world."
     
                  The rubbish rustled. They trooped out — the little man with the red hat, the hunched back, and the hooked nose, the little woman in the mob cap carrying the even smaller baby, the little policeman, the dog with the ruff around its ne ck, and the very small alligator.
     
                  Corporal Carrot sat and listened.
     
                  "He made us do it," said the little man. He had a surprisingly deep voice. "He used to beat us. Even the alligator. That was all he understood, hitting things with sticks. And he used to take all the money the dog Toby collected and get drunk. And then we ran away and he caught us in the alley and started on Judy and the baby and he fell over and — "
     
                  "Who hit him first?" said Carrot.
     
                  "All of us!"
     
                  "But not very hard," said Carrot. "Y ou're all too small. You didn't kill him. I have a very convincing statement about that. So I