Envy is my sin

“Detective,” came the voice behind them, soft yet resonant.

“Detective,” it repeated more insistently.

“Detectiiiiiiiive!” it burst into a roar, and the two detectives turned round in alarm. There they saw a man, his shirt heavily stained in blood.

“You’re looking for me,” he said, putting out his arms in calm submission. But he was wrong. They were looking for a woman with massive tits. All their evidence pointed to a murderer with copious melons and a fanny. They ignored him.