Dial M for Mulberry

The morning was muggy, or was it Tuesday? I get confused...

The slim blonde dame in blue hat was staring at me through her fingers. She looked like she might be hiding something - her hands were dripping with a sticky red claret-like liquid. 

It looked like it should be a clear cut case.

Then I noticed that the girl had an accomplice, loitering nearby. He was a small chap who looked like he had not eaten for a week. He was sporting a blue hat too but I was not sure if that was significant. Their getaway vehicles were well oiled and between the two of them they looked guilty as sin.

Someone whispered the word Mulberry but what did that mean? Could it be some kind of code or a clue?

Later that night I asked Uncle Google if he knew anything about Mr Mulberry. 

He related mysterious tales about silk worms, the orient and trees that bleed. A distant memory about the unlucky kimono flashed through my mind. However, after mulling it over, I was convinced this was just a red herring. 

I seemed to be going round and round...

Then I remembered a post I once saw about a sticky sweet juicy fruit - somewhere halfway between a Raspberry and a Blackberry that grows on a tree called the Mulberry.

Apparently, these two suspicious characters had located all the Southampton Mulberry trees on a secret map and then raided them on stealth-bikes. By the time you read this, their blue hats and juice smeared faces will have vanished into the ether.