In the bustling city, where the streets buzzed with activity and the police force was always busy, there was one officer whose reputation was as colourful as his mismatched socks, Inspector Septimus Summer-Garden. Known for his dishevelled, confused demeanour and a knack for getting everything slightly wrong, he was nonetheless beloved for his unshakeable optimism and unexpected good fortune. One sunny Monday morning, the chief constable called an urgent meeting.
“Inspector Summer-Garden,” he said, “we’ve had a theft. A caravan has gone missing from the city fairground. We need you to investigate!”
Inspector Summer-Garden tipped his hat and nodded eagerly, though he immediately began to look around for his missing pen.
“Right, sir! I’ll crack this case wide open!”
Inspector Summer-Garden started his investigation by visiting the fairground. He looked at the empty space where the caravan had been parked, scratching his head.
“Hmm. No caravan. No footprints. No sign of anything… Wait, what’s this?” he muttered under his breath, picking up a bright red sock from the ground. His colleagues watched in confusion.
“Uh, Inspector, that’s just a sock,” said Constable Bessie.
“Exactly! Someone must’ve lost it,” replied Summer-Garden, pocketing the sock with a flourish.
Next, he questioned the nearby vendors.
“Did you see anyone suspicious?” he asked, eyes spinning slightly.
“Not really,” replied the baker, “but I did see a squirrel carrying something shiny.”
“Ah-ha!” said Summer-Garden. “A squirrel! That must be our thief!”
Without hesitation, the inspector set off to find the squirrel. He followed a trail of acorns and tiny nuts, leading him through the park, around the fountain, and into the alleyways. Meanwhile, his colleagues shook their heads and followed behind, trying to keep up. Suddenly, Summer-Garden stopped, pointing excitedly.
“There! The squirrel! It’s got something shiny in its paws!”
Indeed, the squirrel was clutching a small, shiny key.
“Brilliant! That’s the key to the caravan!” exclaimed the inspector triumphantly.
But as he reached out to grab the squirrel, it darted up a tree, dropping the key. Summer-Garden scrambled after it, tumbling into a pile of leaves.
While the inspector was busy chasing the squirrel, a young boy approached, holding a tiny trailer.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said shyly, “my dad’s caravan got moved here yesterday. Is this yours?”
Summer-Garden looked at the trailer and then at the boy.
“Ah-ha! So it was stolen, then!” he declared confidently.
The boy nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know who took it.”
Suddenly, a loud honk interrupted them. Turning around, they saw a battered old van with a sign that read: “The Great Bramblebrook Caravan Repair”.
Inside, the repairman waved wildly.
“Hey! That’s my van! I moved the caravan here for repairs yesterday. Sorry, I forgot to tell anyone!”
Back at the police station, the colleagues gathered, amazed.
“Inspector,” said Constable Bessie, “you found the caravan… even if it was just because it was moved for repairs?”
Summer-Garden grinned, adjusting his hat.
“Well, that’s what you call a happy accident! Sometimes, getting lost leads you right to the solution.”
And so, the case was closed, not in the way anyone expected, but thanks to Inspector Summer-Garden’s dizzy but fortunate ways, justice was served. His colleagues chuckled and shook their heads, but secretly, they knew—Brilliant or bumbling, Inspector Septimus Summer-Garden always managed to win the day.
Lazarus Carpenter - Author 