By Lisa Timpf
Ever since the big bad wolf blew down my house of sticks, I’ve lived in my brother Bob’s brick bungalow. I operate my detective business, solving Fairyland’s strange and varied crimes, out of an office in the back wing.
Like many such operations, Frank’s Detective Agency has had its ups and downs. I was pondering the fact that I might be short on next month’s rent when the Queen of Hearts walked into my office.
The Queen smoothed her heart-patterned dress. “Are you Frank, the Pig Detective?”
“I am.” The question’s simplicity steadied me.
“Do you know what day it is, Frank?”
I checked the wall calendar. “May 1st.”
“And?”
I arched an eyebrow. “May 1, 2024 in human terms. What am I missing?”
“It’s Mother Goose Day. A day when entities in the human world read nursery rhymes.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Not in my family’s case.”
I nodded. The story about the Queen’s son Jack stealing the tarts had made the rounds.
The Queen’s chin quivered. “Everyone calls him the knave of hearts. Knave! As in dishonest, unscrupulous, rogue, and scoundrel.” The Queen leaned forward, giving me a snoutful of her cinnamon heart perfume. “He was innocent.”
“Not that innocent. Legend says he brought the tarts back. If he didn’t steal them, how could he bring them back?”
The Queen smirked. “That was a cover story; we never recovered them. I don’t believe Jack is responsible. I want his name cleared.”
I leaned back to consider her request. This sounded like the mother of all goose chases. Then again, I could use the dough. I sighed. “Fine. Under one condition.”
“Name it.”
“That you accept my findings, even if they aren’t what you hoped.”
The Queen compressed her lips.
Kiss that cash goodbye, I told myself. I looked down to hide my disappointment.
“Fine. Just… do what you can, okay?”
“I always do.”
***
Bob helped me with cases when he was free, and today he had space on his calendar. After I briefed him, he spread his hooves.
“Where do we start?”
I frowned. If we were human detectives, we’d check with the lab. But this was Fairyland—long on magic, short on tech. “Let’s visit Old Mother Hubbard.”
Mother Hubbard frowned when she answered the door. “On a case, are you?”
“We’re looking into the tart theft of ’82.”
She stepped back. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Your dog’s a good tracker, right?”
“Yes. Barkley’s a beagle.”
“Can we borrow him?”
“Well…”
“We’ll pay you a percentage of any payment we receive,” Bob said.
That sealed the deal. As we walked away with Barkley in tow, I glared at Bob. “There’s no guarantee we’ll get paid for this.”
“In that case, we’ll owe nothing.”
I sighed. Why was Bob always quicker to the punch than me?
At the crime scene, Barkley went to work. The Queen hadn’t used the windowsill to cool her baked goods since that fateful day. Barkley sniffed the area, and I crossed my fingers, hoping for some Fairyland magic.
Barkley woofed once, then sat. I heaved a sigh of relief.
“That means he’s got the scent.”
“What next?” Bob turned toward me.
“Now, we line up some suspects.”
***
“Check him out, Barkley.” I pointed at the Queen’s son, Jack.
Barkley sniffed Jack’s pantleg, then ambled back to Bob and I.
“Guess that lets Jack off the hook,” I said. “Who took the tarts, then?”
Bob scratched behind his ear with his trotter. “No idea.”
I pondered for a moment. “What if Little Boy Blue’s onset of weariness was due to a belly full of tarts?”
“Let’s find out.”
With high hopes, we hunted down Little Boy Blue. But Barkley didn’t indicate him as the perp.
“Goldilocks, maybe?” I asked Bob.
His expression brightened. “She might have found those tarts just right. From what I hear, the Queen’s a crackerjack baker.”
Barkley declared Goldilocks to be not guilty. He also absolved the Crooked Man and Little Jack Horner.
Fresh out of suspects, and with twilight approaching, we headed back to Old Mother Hubbard’s house. When we arrived, Barkley woofed once, then sat in front of his master. My ears shot up in amazement.
“That’s the signal,” I whispered.
Bob nodded.
I turned to Mother Hubbard.
She blushed. “I knew Barkley was a good tracker, but I never thought he’d catch the scent after all this time.”
“He is good,” I said. “You should be proud. Of Barkley, not the theft.”
“My cupboards really were bare.” Mother Hubbard wrung her hands. “And Jack told me the Queen planned to bake a batch of her famous tarts. He arranged for the Queen to be called away while I stole them. When the King raised a ruckus, I volunteered to come forward, but Jack insisted I let him take the fall.”
“Wait.” I held up a hoof. “You’re saying Jack took the heat willingly?”
“Yes.”
Bob and I exchanged a look. “You’ve been very helpful,” I said. “And next time you’re in trouble—”
“I won’t do it again. I don’t need to. Did you know that your TV-star brother Will funded a Fairyland Food Bank? They even carry dog biscuits.”
Bob and I exchanged a glance. We hadn’t known—but it sounded like something Will would do.
Halfway home, Bob shot me a sideways look. “Are we going to tell the Queen the truth?”
I shrugged. I could really use the money. Then again, the greater good would be served by staying mum. “I’ll say we couldn’t solve the case.”
“I think that’s the right choice.”
“I might be shy on rent if she doesn’t pay up.”
Bob patted my shoulder with his hoof. “You’re not the only one who can do the right thing.”
“What’s for supper?”
“I’ve got a hankering for tarts.”
“Come to think of it, so do I.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Great job, Lisa. This is a wonderfully creative blend of fairy tales and nursery rhymes.
the mother of all goose chases! great job!
Enid Cokinos, thanks for the comment. I had fun writing this one!
Laurie, thanks for the comment.
Fun story! Something always seemed a little off about an old woman who kept bones in her cupboard…
Such a fun story!
This fairytale detective story was a delight! Would love to see Frank and Bob again in future detective stories :)
Fun story!
Ah, this was such a cute and clever story! I love that there are detectives in the nursery rhyme world. And the twist for this nursery rhyme was so fun!