(Note written in crimson felt-tip pen on the back of a flyer for the Tease to Please Burlesque Cabaret, Soho, found pinned to the door of the PECULIAR CRIMES UNIT, 1b Hampstead Road, London NW1 0JP)

To The Incoming Team Taking Over From Us

Welcome to the former offices of the Peculiar Crimes Unit.

We hope you’re as happy here as we once were, and have better luck with your bosses than we ever had.

You may not have heard of us, but we saved London’s collective arse on a great many occasions, and for a short but happy time this was our home. We put in a lot of hours here for very little cash. From these rooms the city’s longest-serving detectives, Arthur Bryant and John May, controlled an investigation team that handled the stuff you lot couldn’t begin to deal with; the cases that caused public panic, the ones that upset the status quo, the unsolved murders that were just too confusing, weird or embarrassing for our mates in the Met.

We were closed down and kicked out because we dared to do what no-one else in this fair city would do. We challenged our so-called superiors at the Home Office after the government colluded in the deaths of innocent witnesses involved in a national defence project. So now, we no longer exist.

For anyone taking over Mr Bryant’s space (Room 6)——please note that it is dangerous to operate electronic equipment in the area between his desk and the wall. Laptops, mobiles and gadgets containing batteries are all subject to leakage; I don’t know why. There’s always too much loose electricity knocking around whenever Mr Bryant’s in the room. According to him, the old Bakelite radio on the windowsill periodically picks up light entertainment broadcasts from 1965. On Sunday lunchtimes when the office is quiet you can sometimes hear old episodes of Round The Horne. It’s quite creepy if you’re there by yourself.

Also, please beware of the large jar on top of his cupboard, as it contains a solution produced in the course of our last case at Mornington Crescent¹ and must never be opened. I meant to throw it out before we left. In the event of a spillage, you’ll find the number of a good epidemiologist pasted to the lid.

We bleached the kitchen refrigerator but still couldn’t get rid of the funny smell in the crisper. It’s been like that ever since Mr Bryant left a human foot in it.

Do not use the Xerox machine beside my desk (Room 4) for more than fifty copies at a time. I spilled a full bottle of Max Factor ‘Bowanga’ Jungle Ruby nail varnish inside it, and the rollers get sticky whenever the photocopier warms up.

You might also want to avoid the middle floorboard at the end of the hall, which our Mr Banbury sawed through in the course of an experiment and never nailed back properly. If you get on the wrong end of it, it’s like stamping on a rake and will have your eye out.

If you find a membership card to the Mount Pleasant Country & Western Barn Dancing Society, please forward it to DC Meera Mangeshkar at the address below.

On second thought, don’t bother sending anything on. We have no idea where we’re going to be. None of us knows where we’re heading. We’re all out in the cold. I don’t know what went wrong. We’re good people, we’ve always done the right thing. That should count for something. We loved this unit, and now it’s gone. Damn it all to hell.

Signed, on behalf of the members of London’s former Peculiar Crimes Unit:
Janice Longbright—Detective Sergeant
Raymond Land—Acting Temporary Chief
Arthur Bryant & John May—Senior Detectives
Dan Banbury—Crime Scene Management and Technology
Giles Kershaw—Forensic Pathology
April May—Office Management
Jack Renfield—Sergeant
Meera Mangeshkar—Detective Constable
Colin Bimsley—Detective Constable
Oswald Finch (Deceased)
Liberty DuCaine—(part-time) Police Constable
Crippen—staff cat