Detectives at Work

Robert was, of course, the leader. Being all of eleven years old (less only twenty days), he was the oldest of the lot. Ken was nine and Gabriella was just seven. So they all looked up to Robert.

And Robert was confident that he could solve the case. He had read all the A-to-Z Mysteries, after all, and a few Five-Find-Outers, too, to boot. If those folks could do it, he knew he could, with a little help from Ken and Gabriella.

"Now first," he whispered, "we check the scene of the occurrence. Follow me." The three of them tiptoed to the kitchen, Robert, then Gabriella, then Ken, bringing up the rear and constantly checking that they weren't being followed.

"Any clues?" Robert hissed.

"Crumbs," Gabriella whispered back, pointing at the table and the floor.

"Well spotted."

"Lid of cookie jar," Ken mouthed, indicating a circular object lying on the white tiles.

"Progress. Anything else?"

"Empty cookie jar, on its side," Ken breathed back.

"Excellent. Where are the cookies?" Robert asked.

"I thought that was the mystery we were trying to solve," Gabriella piped up.

"Not so loud!" Robert shushed his sister. "You don't understand, you're only seven."

"But if we're trying to solve where the cookies went, it means we don't know where the cookies are." Gabriella could be quite persistent when she wanted to be.

"I told you, Gab, you're only seven."

"I'll be eight next year," Gab retorted. "And I've read some mysteries, too, you know."

"Which ones?" Robert asked, skeptically.

"The Three Little Pigs," she replied, pertly.

"How's that a mystery?"

"You don't know till the end whether he's going to blow the house down or not. There's this bad wolf and you don't know what he's going to do. That's a mystery."

Gab glared at her brothers, who were laughing at her. "It's not funny," she said, stamping her foot hard on the white tiles. "I'm cleverer than both of you. I know you can't solve a mystery that you can't solve."

Ken's laughter came to an abrupt halt. He frowned suddenly. "Robert?"

Robert hiccuped himself to silence. "Yeah?"

"She's right, you know. If we don't know where the cookies are, we don't know where they are."

"Hmmmm. So this mystery can't be solved, where the cookies are? Is that what you think?" Robert challenged his brother.

"Yes, that's what I think. I think Gab is right."

Robert thought for a while. Then, he looked down at his sister. "You know Gab, though I hate to admit it, Ken is right that you're right. We can't find out where the cookies are because we don't know where they are."

"You mean I solved the case?" Gab asked, wide-eyed.

"Well, no, but you PROVED that the case can't be solved," Robert conceded. "That's almost as good. The big detective agencies call it a non-getter. You and Ken proved the mystery of the cookies is a non-getter."

"I did?"

"I did?"

His brother and sister were staring at Robert.

"You did. You both deserve an honourable pat on the back." He bestowed a pat on each back. "Now, go tell Mom and Dad you got a pat on the back."

Robert watched his brother and sister leave the kitchen. Gab was skipping in excitement. "Mom, Dad, listen ..."

He waited till nobody could hear him, then proceeded to sweep up the crumbs, put the lid back on the jar, and put the jar in its place. "Those were good cookies," he thought. "And I think I've cleared up the scene of the occurrence pretty well. I don't think anyone will check fingerprints."