The Case of the Golden-Haired Sleuth

The Case of the Golden-Haired Sleuth

 

She had been following that tell-tale trail all morning. Surely, this time she would find the culprits. All those over-turned garbage cans, clothes stolen off clotheslines, food swiped from picnic baskets when no one was looking–it all had to stop and she was just the sleuth who could stop it. Looking down at the ground, she saw a partial footprint. For a moment, her hair stood on end. That footprint was big! Could she be dealing with Bigfoot?

Throwing caution to the winds, she entered the forest. A rising spiral of smoke in the distance guided her to a small house. Could this be the den of the doers of devious deeds? Tiptoeing to the front door, she gave it a small push. The door swung open! An unlocked door was an invitation to enter, wasn’t it? She couldn’t be accused of breaking and entering, if push came to shove. Only entering.

The room she stepped into appeared to be the front room. Just as she suspected, it wasn’t one culprit who had been doing the damage–it was three. Deductive reasoning. Three chairs sat in front of a television set, all in different sizes. Hmm. She climbed up in the first chair. It was too high for her. Her feet couldn’t touch the floor. The second chair was–well, it was a rocking chair, and just wasn’t comfortable, but that third chair. Just right! Ah-h. She was about to settle comfortably into it when it cracked and crashed. Crumpled! Evidently it was not cleverly crafted.

 

After scrambling up off the floor, she wandered into the kitchen, following her nose, as it were. Crowds of clues! Three bowls of soup sat on the table, but where on earth were these perpetrators of pilfering, these doers of dastardly deeds?

What would three misanthropes like on their menu? She already knew they had a penchant for pies and other pastries stolen packed picnic baskets.

She tasted the first bowl, fanned her mouth, and skipped around the floor, yelling, “Ow! Oh! Hot!” When she sipped a spoonful of the second bowl of soup, she nearly gagged. Cold! Who would want cold soup? Gingerly, she tried the third bowl. Hmm. Just right. The walk through the woods had made her hungry. Turning it up, she greedily gulped it.

But, where was the bad band of bandits? So far, she hadn’t heard a sound. Maybe they were hiding upstairs. Well, they wouldn’t escape the mighty arm of the law or the Golden-Haired Sleuth, as she was called. Moving stealthily up the stairs, she stopped and stood stock still.

Nope! No culprits here, only two rooms and three beds. The first bed in room number one was hard. She felt it and shook her head. Probably the person who slept here had a bad back and demanded a firm foundation. Next to this bed was another bed with a flowery, frilly flounce. She felt of it and found it was a featherbed.

Looking first left, then right, she moved to the second bedroom. A small bed. It looked so inviting, she lay down for just a minute. Wow! Was that a comfortable mattress or what? The walk through the forest had been long, that nasty fall from the spindly chair downstairs was upsetting, and the warm bowl of soup all caught up with her. She was suddenly sleepy. Maybe, she’d just lie down and try to visualize the kind of varmint who would want a bed like this. She’d just close her eyes bit and rest. Sleuthing was tiring.

She awoke with a start. Hot breath fanned her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw three pairs of eyes staring at her. Squinty, mean, uncivilized eyes and she heard–oh, heavens–she heard a low, menacing growl. Bouncing from bed, she raced to the window, plunged right through and, thanks to her aerobic training and amazing gymnastic skills, landed on her feet. Her pulse pounding, she hot-footed toward home.

“Who was that little golden-haired intruder?” Papa Bear asked.

Mama Bear shrugged. “Beats me. I wonder if her parents never warned her about going into someone’s house when they weren’t home?”

“I don’t know who she was,” Baby Bear said, sniffling, “but she broke my chair and ate my soup and she didn’t even say she was sorry.”


Manos Mysteries

 

 

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