I was about to say "I do not like soup, there will be no soup in my fic," but I was wrong. There is soup, albeit metaphorical, in two successive sentences.

Only the problem with crime was that it was all very well to pull Gerry from the soup, and nothin’ nasty to come of it, and to fiddle around finding diamond brooches and sorting out inheritances and the like, but it wasn’t always like that. Come to that, Gerry’s soup had been pretty hot, and the Dawson case downright sticky.