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“Close the window, will you?” came the grumpy muffled voice from beneath the covers.

He sighed, rolled out of bed and picked his way to the window through the debris field of clean and dirty washing, books, random paperwork and toys.

It was a clear night, but certainly not cold enough to need a closed bedroom window.

His posture obviously gave away his thinking

“It’s those bloody foxes shagging – I can’t sleep for the noise they make.”

He closed the window and climbed back into bed.

In the morning, the police came, with their crime scene tape and questions.

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