Hair

“Tell me, Vulpecula, do you have any wild ideas or hunches about, well, whoever could possibly be responsible for this?” Officer Pends, literally a sheep of the law, asked with curiosity in his voice that he couldn’t disguise. 

There was the distinctive smell of chocolate beneath the officer’s breath, which only fueled the stereotypes regarding police-officers and their unhealthy infatuation with donuts. Thankfully, stereotypes weren’t always negative, and a love for donuts was practical for anybody with a working brain. Speaking of donuts, Vulpecula recalled passing a stand earlier that looked to have been selling pastries. Alas, ’twas not the time for forbidden delicacies, but the time for work, which was something that Vulpecula enjoyed even more than sweets. 

“What were you saying?” Vulpecula eventually inquired while pulling at some of the white fur on his chin. For better or worse, there were always a lot of fox-things bumbling about in his mind, and surprisingly, this included more than simply an unwavering desire to eat floor-roaming critters or birds. 

That would be an example of a stereotype with negative connotations. 

Vulpecula didn’t have any problem whatsoever when it came to birds, in-fact, his dear friend Apus just so happened to be an owl that often helped him out on his cases. 

“I was just asking whether or not you think you’ll be able to figure out who stole it?” 

Vulpecula commenced biting the nail of his thumb for a moment; he did not look forward to having to ask Officer Pends to repeat his question a third time. It wasn’t Vulpecula’s fault; he was a victim of his own imagination, for better or worse, things of such little importance generally failed at keeping his interest for very long. “I’m sorry, I swear that this time I’ll listen, run that by me one more time,” he said with an innocence that thankfully kept the officer from ignoring him out of shear (Get it?) spite. (Forget it.) 

“Do you have anything?” 

Vulpecula looked at him earnestly for a second, and then frowned. “No, that’s not what you said,” he retorted before beginning to walk forward toward where the sword once resided. There was a glass-case that once contained the Sword of Tertius. The sword got its name from Charles Tertius, a famous figure in Maharris history. 

“Did you ever get a hold of Apus or Lacerta?” Vulpecula only waited for a moment or two for an answer prior to letting his eyes scan the area of the crime-scene. 

The Malane Palace is amongst the artsiest places in all Maharris, and the go-to place for the country’s history. If you are a tourist visiting Italina, you are usually there because you want to experience one or a mixture of three things. 

There’s the illustrious and beautiful Sanchi Tower that looks down at the rest of the city, which is arguably one of the most coveted landmarks in all Maharris. Then, there’s the delicious rice, spaghetti, and aquatic foods, but other-wise, tourists came to Italina because they wanted to see the Malane Palace. Vulpecula, however, as he has grown accustom to being, was the exception to that rule, because he was a tourist exploring the city, but wasn’t there to experience any of those things. Although, that’s not exactly true because he was there on official business. 

He was a consultant for some of the most bizarre criminal investigations across the globe, and in so, Vulpecula supposed that he was wrong, and was in-fact another example to that theory. He looked over to see the police-officer, who looked a tad haggard and, ahem, sheepish. If only he knew of the self-discovery Vulpecula experienced merely seconds ago. All Vulpecula knew for sure was that Officer Pends never answered his question, and so, Vulpecula decided to put his mind at ease, “No worries, I am sure that they’ll find a way of getting a hold of me.” 

Vulpecula could see that his words didn’t do very much to settle the police-officer’s nerves, and he had no interest in making further attempts. He could only imagine the extreme amount of stress that must have come with the job. Then again, Vulpecula didn’t find his job to be particularly easy either and so; the officer shouldn’t have been pawning his negative energy off on him. “Please leave while I am working,” Vulpecula blurted out at once.  

“What?” The officer asked, as if he expected his constant annoyances to go unnoticed.  

“You are being a distraction.” 

The officer’s face sagged into an even greater frown, which reminded V of what it looked like when a grape was left under the sun for too long. However, to his credit, Officer Pends left without argument.  

“Hey, wait,” Vulpecula called out urgently. “I am assuming that the rules of no flash photography don’t apply during the routine in my investigation?” 

Ah, there wasn’t even as much as a smile, what a party-pooper. Vulpecula couldn’t say he wasn’t at least a bit disappointed they couldn’t end up as friends. 

He could have used the company. 

There wasn’t anything in the world that he found to be more tedious than museums. If it wasn’t a caffeine addiction that killed V, it would be disinterest and boredom. (or somebody choking him, … V’s vendettas were already becoming notorious in his long career.) 

He had a very severe case of attention defi…. 

Vulpecula walked over to where a medallion laid comfortably inside of a glass case, below it was an excerpt explaining its historical relevance. 

Vulpecula did not read it. 

There was no challenge in history; it was a subject that had been studied repeatedly by historians. There was seldom something to discover for yourself, but you could certainly go where man has gone thousands of times before. (History: The Eternal Frontier) 

All the other subjects carried the same basic principle, but at least they were a challenge. Vulpecula was a private investigator and was a good enough detective, but the reasoning behind studying things which have already been thoroughly studied was lost on him. The only thing worth studying to him was the latest past, and that’s what they paid him for. 

Italina’s finest brought Vulpecula and his friends here because somebody broke into the Malane Palace at approximately two in the morning and stole a sword once belonging to Charles Tertius, not to lollygag and look at dumb necklaces. 

The cameras successfully filmed the happening as it occurred but because the incompetence of the security guards, the culprit was able to make the escape. The immediate deductive analysis is that it was a ruse conspired between the two security guards and an unnamed third-party, perhaps even a co-worker. This theory could be backed when you consider the amount of knowledge that the thief seemed to have. The thief easily dodged all the lasers while repelling down where the sword lay dormant. 

There was no part of Vulpecula that wanted the case to be solved so easily though. 

The idea of conspiring co-workers wasn’t worth the vivacious Acerian adventurer, and quite frankly, it wasn’t very original.  Thankfully, Italina’s head-honchos were friendly enough to send him a clip of the thievery as it took place, as well as give him access to all the faculty information. The camera fully captured video of somebody repelling down to the sword, however, didn’t capture footage on the perpetrator’s entry into the building. The wiry frame, feminine stature, and the way that the culprit’s hair was hugged by the ski-mask did all but imply the culprit was female. 

There are only six security guards employed for the Malane Palace and not one of them is female. One other thing that may or may not be worth noting is that the thievery also fell on the “Night of the Dead,” a Maharris holiday that is commonly celebrated by dressing up as a deceased figure in history. This, like most holidays, had lost its meaning, and had become merely an excuse for birds to defecate on vehicles as a “prank,” chickens to egg houses, and for the heavy consumption of alcohol. After looking at both profiles for the fine, upstanding gentleman on-duty, V decided that it was reasonable to assume their negligence. 

He didn’t have the evidence to fully support that, but he had learned not to go against his intuition. 

The only question is how the perpetrator could have known about the museum’s short-comings. 

Once again, there was an immediate answer, and it’s that the lady was in cahoots with one of the guards and was thereby enabled means to get the “scoop” on security. The thorough (albeit brief) research that was done on each of the two security guards on-duty revealed that only one of them was married. He was married to a waitress at Ollie’s which is open at all-hours of the day, and she just so happened to work on that night. In other-words, the dame had an alibi. As far as other family-members go, the athleticism and acrobatics applied by the thief suggested a female of youth, and as far as siblings went, the only one that had a sister was also a turtle, and there was no sign whatsoever of the female having a shell or bulky exterior. 

These are the elements that are known about the case, and in that, with the attributes of the thief, there isn’t too much to go on except that the perpetrator was a young, smaller-framed, and well-educated female. She’d need to be well-educated to pull off such a heist, even when considering the museum’s short-comings. 

There were so many questions, and with such little answers, Vulpecula realized these questions were the only thing getting him out of the bed in the morning. There was nothing that he envied more than the eternal sunshine of a thoughtless mind because for the life of him, he couldn’t stop his eccentricities. 

He didn’t even know the species of the thief because there was no sign of a tail or other characteristics on her body. The mannerisms demonstrated cat-like abilities, but that was intuition more than fact. V had to credit this as being a commendable tool, and one that he used often during his cases. Somebody once said that hunches mustn’t be allotted if they aren’t fueled by logic. If an individual doesn’t have the facts, then they’ll find themselves distorting the initial truths in such a way that pieces together their theory. He took few inspirations from others, but those were examples of things that fitted into his self-implored guidelines. 

The way of solving a case isn’t through theorizing but through comprehension of occurrences and finding a mistake in what would perhaps other-wise appear to be a utopia of antics. Vulpecula inspected the case which had once confined the sword, it once rested inside of a black case with red-fabric lining the bottom. There was also an impression in the fabric showing where the sword had been. The black-case laid upon a chrome-podium that stood at approximately five-feet, and much like the medallion that V had looked at earlier, there was a small excerpt explaining the sword’s history. 

This time, Vulpecula admittedly skimmed through the paragraph, not because he needed to polish his knowledge over the famous sword, but because he deemed it as worthy to the case. 

Next, Vulpecula looked upon the glass-lid over the case, looking for any signs of smudging. He knew he wasn’t going to find anything because the video showed that the thief wore gloves, but it was a habit. Also, it was a long-shot, but if he found a lot of finger-prints from another individual, maybe a security guard, (excessive prints not seen on the other cases) that could imply there was interest in the item. “Not to be,” belched the cruel hand of reality as it almost always did. 

Wiped clean, but Vulpecula doubted it was done to erase evidence, more likely as something routine for the employees to do. Well, barnacles, thought V to himself, and not out-loud, because such harsh language wasn’t to be spoken aloud! 

Even still, there was a strong smell that kept entering his nostrils. An aroma smelling very reminiscent of perfume, could it have somehow belonged to the woman of the hour or was it simply the residue of a past tourist? 

Click.   

There was the distinctive sound of a door-latching from afar in the museum, but V heard it, and unsurprisingly enough, he found it to be inexplicably disruptive to his thought-process. He anticipated hearing the loud and unsettling sound of the police-officer’s voice. He knew it was him as he recognized the pitter-patter from his furry feet with every step. Officer Pends carried himself like a lurch and dragged his feet as if they were especially heavy for him. Truth be told, they probably were, it was uncharacteristic for a sheep to be put in such a physical job, and the uniform and boots that came with it couldn’t have been lenient to his small-stature. V felt for him, for he too, as a fox, was forced to endure his inefficient strength for a considerable number of tasks, but, then again, he was a private investigator, and didn’t often need much more than his brain. 

“Yes?” 

He tried to come off polite as to hide his admitted irritation. There was nothing he hated more profoundly than sounds while he was trying to think but didn’t want him to take it personally. Other foot-steps soon followed, clearly not belonging to the uncharacteristically loud sheep. Vulpecula easily identified them as belonging to Apus and Lacerta. “Good evening,” Vulpecula called out.  

“My friends! May I ask what kept you?” 

He turned around curiously, and sure-enough, his hypothesis stood ground and could now be deemed as fact, it was them! 

“It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Lacerta answered at once which immediately drew a firm stare from Vulpecula. “Not literally,” Lacerta assured. 

And so, Vulpecula went back to looking at the empty-case, doing hand gestures welcoming them to come and make their own inspection. 

“I haven’t discovered any specific pieces of evidence. If we can’t find anything to go on, we’ll need to interview each of the employees to get a better read on them.” 

Apus and Lacerta both walked over to where Vulpecula had been conducting his inspections, ducking beneath the red-velvet rope that kept civilians from getting too close. 

“Do you really think that any of the guards are actually capable of a heist of this magnitude?” Lacerta asked. 

Apus, Lacerta, and Vulpecula had all three divided the work-load of conducting information regarding the employees. Vulpecula had admittedly done less than his fair-share, hence why Lacerta and Apus were just arriving. Perhaps humorously, Lacerta had been the only one imploring the hunt and peck technique to his laptop.  “Looks can be deceiving, if you decide a book on its cover, there are so many library books that are going to be ignored on the shelves, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad books. In all honesty, if the individual only took advantage of flaws and happenstance in the system, it wouldn’t have required very much, which is reason enough to believe that the guards are a possible candidate.” 

Vulpecula scratched at his nose. The scent of perfume felt aggravating and uncanny, but he couldn’t seem to pinpoint its origins. 

“However,” Vulpecula began again. “I assume that this is not the case, but still, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a possible lead. Maybe they were asked a lot of questions by one of the visitors, in-fact, doesn’t the Malane Palace conduct tours over the museum?” 

Vulpecula’s mind was racing with thoughts faster than a deer from a lion, but like the lion, until he caught his prey, he had nothing to sink his teeth into. (The heinousness of lions is also an unfair stereotype, but they are very proud animals, and gotta eat.) 

There were so many routine questions of making something out of nothing. Really, it was a process of throwing things at the wall and hoping that one of them sticks. “I will ask Pends about the employees, maybe you’re right and there are interns or volunteers,” Apus answered. 

There was always an uncanny metallic sound to Apus’ voice that made him sound raspy and robotic. Vulpecula didn’t know whether he liked or disliked that about him, but he was used to it. He was very intelligent, which Vulpecula knew was an asset, and was very computer-savvy. Apus just didn’t much care for people, or the socialization that went along with it. That was the exact opposite of Lacerta, who was more of the loud-mouth and arrogant variety. He wasn’t really the greatest fit for the mysterious incorporated style that they paid abidance to, but every once in a while, he provided a way to earn his keep. 

More importantly, they were Vulpecula’s dearest friends; their company was one of the only things that kept his sanity intact. 

“That’s a pretty aroma,” Apus whispered beneath his breath, not particularly saying it to either of them, but Vulpecula heard it. Apus smelled it too, and at that realization, his eyes became transfixed on the multiple hairs to the left of where he was standing. They didn’t need to be drenched in perfume for V to smell them, but Apus being able to smell them proved that they were. They were inside of the “No Trespassing” portion of the museum and too abundant to be coincidental. 

“This doesn’t belong to the guards,” Vulpecula said before dropping to one knee and picking up the strands of hair with his paws. Eventually, after breathing in the aroma of the scent, he had them placed into a zip-lock baggie for safe-keepings. “Seven strands, lavender, about fifteen inches in length, it’s inside the red-rope barricading the sword.” His eyes went up to Apus and Lacerta. “This hair most likely belongs to our girl.” 

* * * 

It was night time, both Apus and Lacerta had since left the museum, but Vulecula remained. He wanted to solve it, plain and simple. 

A small couple of hairs could mean the difference between a criminal facing justice for their crime or getting away with it. Evildoers beware the fiendish claws of the tiniest detail with valid reasoning placed behind it! If they left behind even the smallest molecular trace pointing in their direction, then chances are that it would be found. Or at least, that’s the mind-set that every good criminal should operate under. 

Even still, something about finding the hairs didn’t feel right to Vulpecula. 

He watched the footage repeatedly, until it had become a file “Saved As” in his conscious-thought. It was a forced compulsion of his routine, but he was also looking for something. 

He just didn’t know what that something was. 

The feeling of a case challenging him was the only thing that ever-kept Vulpecula’s attention for long. It was the thrill of the chase, and there was something peculiar about this chase. 

The view from the camera was obscured in the beginning of her heist. 

Vulpecula didn’t imagine that her methods of getting to the top of the Malane Palace were very elaborate; scaling the walls of the Malane Palace should have been easy enough. Even without the equipment that she undoubtedly had. (The footage showed that much.) The Malane Palace stood at around one-hundred and thirty-three feet in height, so it was doubtful that the dame would have taken the risk of climbing the building with her own wits alone. If she wanted to though, she probably could have. 

The building had plenty of ledges, ridges, and cliffs. If somebody would have wanted to climb it, they could have. Vulpecula knew that statement to be a fact because he tried to climb the building himself. 

He failed. 

However, he had the sheepish Officer Pends do it, and he succeeded just fine after falling only three times. 

And so, she scaled up the Malane Palace with relative ease. 

The rooftop didn’t have anything too particular about it; there wasn’t a foot-print or any dandruff. Vulpecula insisted on recreating the thievery at night because that was when the thievery had taken place. He wanted to know everything that was going through her head. He wanted to feel the cool air blowing through her fur, or for her, the sweat-shirt and the ski-mask. There was the look of the dwindling traffic reinforced by the lit lamp-posts. Once climbing the building, there were only two clear ways of getting to the down-floor. 

There was a door on the north-west side of the building, it probably would have been locked, in-which case, she would have had to pick the lock. Afterward, she’d go to the rafters of the building, look down at the Sword of Tertius, and use a rope to repel herself down. This way seemed like a distinct possibility; however, there was an alarm-system that would have sounded at the very minute the door was opened. 

Even still, Vulpecula made certain to inspect the route for evidence, and found nothing. 

After climbing to the building, there were five windows on each side of the Malane’s walls; she selected the one closest to the sword. There wasn’t an alarm-system to the windows, but they were old, and therefore, they were difficult to get open. She didn’t want to take the risk of scratching or clawing at it as she had worn gloves to lessen the possibilities of leaving finger-prints. She used a knife, or some other sharp-object, and pried the door open. Vulpecula hung vicariously off the ledge of the building by his cane. (It was dark-brown except for the end which curved like a scythe with a dull blade. It was a cane that had once belonged to his father.) He began eye-balling the window, making a mental-note of the slits and cuts at the center of the window where it had been opened. 

She opened the window, made her way to the rafters; descended, got the sword, and then she left the same way that she entered. 

Vulpecula arose back to the top of the roof, and at last, acknowledged the vibration from the pocket of his leggings. “V,” he answered simply.  

“It’s Lacerta, they found a match for the hair found at the Malane Palace, where are you?” Vulpecula’s ears pricked at hearing Lacerta’s words.  

“I’m at the Malane Palace, who did the hairs belong to?” 

Static on the other end, Vulpecula suspected that Lacerta wrote the name down somewhere, and was now looking for the paper. 

“Harriet Collins,” Lacerta answered. 

“What is her address, or contact information? I need to set up a meeting with her. I will need Officer Pends and preferably both you and Apus for when I go talk to her. I don’t have a full-handle on how dangerous she is, but David taught more than Goliath about underestimating others, if you catch my drift.” Another long silence befell them, and before long, Vulpecula was starting to wonder whether he had been hung up on. (or worse, that he hadn’t caught his drift.) 

“I never do, but I’ll work on getting the address,” Lacerta responded. 

The next morning, Lacerta had been courteous enough to do just as he said he would, and Officer Pends even arranged for a meeting with her. She lived only a couple of blocks away from the Malane Palace, and so, while Officer Pends offered to drive his cop-car out-there, Vulpecula assured him that it’d be less hassle simply to walk. He liked the cooling air on his fur, and the sheer simplicity of it all. It was one of the few times where he felt as if the world’s loud disturbances weren’t so bothersome to his conscious. As he, his friends, and Pends walked down the sidewalk, Vulpecula spent little time looking at the cars going by. 

He watched the sidewalk, a blank and solid gray-color, which could act as a projector for all his thoughts to illustrate themselves. There wasn’t very much information on file about Harriet Collins. She didn’t have a criminal-record, and she didn’t have anything else of regard. 

“I know that you don’t want it to be solved this easy, but you have to admit that it makes sense, right?” Lacerta said while he trekked behind Vulpecula, trying to keep up. 

“Why wouldn’t he want it to be solved easy, isn’t that less work?” Officer Pends chimed in. 

“He doesn’t like it whenever a case is solved too easily, it bores him.”  

Officer Pends looked at Lacerta as if he couldn’t grasp the thought that somebody might enjoy using their intellect for something other than twiddling their thumbs, Vulpecula thought, while walking, and … twiddling his thumbs. 

“She is a History teacher, and so, at least to a certain degree, the shoe fits. She could possibly carry the skill capable of such a heist, considering her level of education, but she hasn’t shown as much as the slightest in criminal intent.” Vulpecula spoke. He didn’t know whether they were listening, and didn’t especially care, but he found it easier to organize his thoughts when he articulated them aloud. “Why else would her hair be found at the scene of the crime? Apus checked to see if she might have volunteered at a point for the museum, but he found nothing.” Lacerta pointed out. 

Oh, and so he was listening. 

“That’s one of the problems, look at what the thief was wearing, there was no reason that so much hair should have been lost at the scene of the crime.” At last, they met the drive-way leading to Harriet’s abode, and Vulpecula’s eyes began to frolic about it. The home was a polychrome styling in-which the dwelling stood, interconnected with several others. There was nothing too peculiar about the exterior of the home, which is something that Vulpecula’s intuition had expected the thief’s home to be. Rather, V led his acquaintances up the steps leading to the small, plywood porch. The wood had been painted over, poorly, with white, to match the building itself. There were clear footprints and dirt, and with that alone, Vulpecula knew that this wasn’t the lady who stole the Sword of Tertius. He took a breath and readied himself to plead her case. 

“There isn’t a criminal-record to be found, no sign of wrongdoings, which surely wouldn’t render Harriet as innocent. In-fact, the video-tape that we have seen details somebody, perhaps cunning enough to evade the law for all of this time. However, those footprints entail a hippopotamus, which is impossible. The frame of the thief’s body described somebody much smaller.” Vulpecula tried very hard to contain some of the intrigue that bumbled inside of him like the regular every-day bee, but he questioned his effectiveness. 

“Are you saying that we’re back to square-one?” Lacerta asked. He didn’t have nearly the same enthusiasm that Vulpecula had. 

If Vulpecula didn’t know any better, he’d think Lacerta would much rather be sipping sparkling liquid in one of Italina’s finest hotels with a view of the Tower of Sanchi.   

“No,” Vulpecula replied firmly, and without elaboration, he knocked on the red slab door and waited for a response. “Hold on, hold on,” a high-pitch voice cried from the inside. Vulpecula rifled with the fur on his chin as habit commanded and tilted his nose to the ground. There was a loose-nail sticking out from the wooden-porch, and it admittedly bothered him to no ends. He didn’t wear boots and was liable to step on it on the way out. 

The door swung open, and Harriet Collins greeted them all with a smile. “Whoever you are, can we make this quick, my hair is an absolute mess!” 

If Vulpecula were to go to the Watergate, a small book-store in Italina, then go to the “Mom” section, grab the first book about soccer, and look at the cover, he had no doubts that he would have seen Harriet Collins. 

He was right in assuming her species, but hadn’t anticipated her appearance, which only further proved that she wasn’t the culprit. She had a silver complexion complemented by a blonde beehive-shaped head of hair, as well as a heavy amount of make-up. As far as her ensemble, she wore what looked to be an Italinian Blazers shirt; unfortunately, the several necklaces that she was wearing kept V from confirming that assumption. Besides that, she was also wearing yellow shorts that didn’t do her tree-trunk legs very many favors. In-response, Vulpecula gave a face that would hopefully be misinterpreted as polite and not disgusted. There was also a strong smell of perfume radiating off her. 

“Hello, Mrs. Collins, my name is Officer Pends, and this is Detective Vulpecula Noel, and his accompanying party is Apus Yields and Lacerta Kerrick. You may recall that I called you,” Officer Pends began, a sound of … shear … professionalism in his voice that Vulpecula found to be pretty flocking dumb. (A baaaad pun.) Vulpecula never really appreciated the necessity of procedural introductions. “He called you because we thought you stole the Sword of Tertius on-account of evidence found at the Malane Palace linking you to the crime. However, at last your size and the clumsiness of your species has worked to your good fortune, and your name has been cleared,” Vulpecula explained. “Congratulations.” 

Vulpecula’s eyes dwindled away from Harriet long enough to see the look of terror in the eyes of his helpers, but he couldn’t decipher why they seemed so afraid. His eyes returned to Harriet once more only to see the door slammed before him. 

Vulpecula smiled dryly, and let out a sigh, the rudeness of the world was always lost on him. 

“I will never understand how you are Hensley’s son,” Lacerta admitted with a smirk.  

“Pshaw,” V started up. “The lady didn’t have the wits to keep loose-nails off her porch, let alone assist in solving this case, and yet, I do believe that she has.” 

Hours later, Vulpecula, Apus, and Lacerta all found themselves inside of Ollie’s Abil, each having ordered their usual meal, and sitting in their usual spot. Neither Lacerta nor Apus cared very much when it came to the seating arrangements, but perhaps compulsively, Vulpecula found it pivotal to them enjoying their meal as much as the last time they ate there. 

“Do you care to let us in on how exactly Harriet helped you further the investigation?” Lacerta asked with a startling amount of irritation in his voice.  

Vulpecula noticed that Apus didn’t seem as bothered with him withholding the information for as long as he had. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder whether Apus was biting his tongue, and had, in-fact, figured out as much as he had. “There were seven strands of hair at around fifteen inches in length,” Vulpecula began while Apus and Lacerta both sat at the table and stared at him, curious to see where he may be going with this. They hadn’t even begun to touch their food, both with a delectable helping of spaghetti resting upon fancy-looking porcelain plates that complimented it nicely. Ollie’s Abil was a restaurant mostly visited by tourists for the novelty of it all, but it also made some of the finest food in all Italina. Vulpecula himself had opted for a simple assortment of rice and sushi. 

He didn’t want to take the chance of some of the spaghetti getting on his fur. 

Vulpecula waited for what he believed to have been an ample amount of time for his comrades to digest the statement and found himself bewildered when they didn’t respond. He began to fidget around with his fork, stabbing at a piece of sushi until he could withstand himself no longer and looked up at them. 

“So,” Lacerta blurted out. “All this tells us is that you have a photographic memory whenever it comes to details.” 

Vulpecula let out a sigh of disappointment before he decided to continue. “My memory is more comparable to a blank chalkboard, as if to say I can roll my eyes in the back of my head and see data that I had deemed important. For example, I can’t very well describe to you the face of Harriet Collins from memory, but I can tell you her age, blood-type, and a variety of details. Once this case is solved, I will erase the writings from my mind, and will create space for the next case,” he explained. 

Lacerta never really seemed the type to strain himself intellectually for the benefit of a case, he was keener whenever it came to companionship, talking to people, and articulating the latest trends. 

Pity, however, while it might not seem it, all three of those things had already helped them on several occasions. He watched as Apus made a peck at his spaghetti before carrying on. “Lacerta, in-fact, this tells us much more than my capabilities because we had clearly seen from Harriett, her hair couldn’t have been longer than eight-inches at most, and, not to mention, Harriet’s hair was blonde. The hair that we found at the Malane Palace was brown, but did you notice the smell, a different scent entirely, both perfumes, potentially of the same brand, but not the same. So, to see what is learned, let’s recite.” 

“We already knew that Harriet Collins’ heavier stature made it impossible for her to have been the one who stole the Sword of Tertius. However, this doesn’t explain why her hair would be found at the scene of the crime. While, she is a history teacher, none of the records indicate her ever being in a position where she would have authorization to be so close to the artifacts. How could her hair have possibly gotten there, well, now, we know that the hair found at the crime-scene isn’t particularly fresh. The hair was brown, while her current hair-color is blonde; she could have dyed it recently, and most likely did, but had no reason to. And so, the question remains as to why her hair could have possibly been left there. I believe that the thief that stole the Sword of Tertius left her hair there to throw off the investigation, and/or to frame Harriet Collins’ for the crime. Harriet’s occupation as a history teacher merely assisted in condemning Collins.” Vulpecula took in a breath of air, the rapid-fire speaking had taken the wind out of him, but he noticed that he had the full attention of both Apus and Lacerta. 

“The next question in solving this whodunnit would be to ask how the thief got Harriet’s hair in the first-place. Now, one theory would be that she snuck into her house, found it on a brush, and that was the end of that, but the thief demonstrated in the video carried a prowess much too careful and meticulous to take such a risk. And besides, the amount of hair could only be received from plucking it right off from her head. There would be something more unorthodox and diabolical, and with that, it brings us to the fact that the hair was longer than Mrs. Collins’ hair. I am suggesting that Harriet Collins’ hair was trimmed, approximately four or five inches, and then dyed from brown to blonde. Along the way, seven full-length strands of hair found themselves at the bottom of the barbershop floor. They were sprayed with a fragrance, to be more likely discovered, and that fragrance was from the same place that Harriet usually buys her perfume, the closest salon in Italina, – Miss Marion’s Barbershop.” 

2.

By the time that Officer Pends knocked on the door, she didn’t even try to deny stealing the Sword of Tertius and went away without much controversy. This was lucky because if she were to put up a fight, the evidence was circumstantial, and she would likely be freed on a technicality, but no, she confessed. A little bit of hurt pride in how quickly she had been discovered, but not a whole lot of arguing. 

And so, the white-furred fox, Vulpecula, grabbed his walking-stick and with his friends, the lizard Lacerta and the owl Apus, he successfully solved the case behind the Sword of Tertius. 

A month later, it was stolen again.