There is no doubt, Inspector Septimus Summer-Garden was well-loved for his big heart and even bigger clumsiness. One day, as he was enjoying a cup of tea at his cluttered desk, the town’s mayor burst into the police station looking quite flustered.
“Inspector! Something terrible has happened!” the mayor exclaimed. “My prized moustache… it’s gone!”
Septimus blinked a few times, then looked down at his own face, realising he was missing something too, his own moustache! But the mayor’s moustache was famous all over town, thick, curly, and the colour of ripe chestnuts.
“Gone?” Septimus asked, scratching his head. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s just… misplaced?”
“No, no!” the mayor replied. “It disappeared right from my dressing room! And I have a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just lost, it was stolen!”
Septimus took out his magnifying glass and examined the scene. There were tiny footprints leading from the mayor’s dressing room to the window, small, like those of a mouse or a tiny thief.
“Hmm,” mused Septimus. “Small footprints… probably a sneaky suspect!”
He then noticed a faint scent lingering in the air, something spicy and unusual. Smelling it carefully, he exclaimed,
“Ah! That’s the smell of cinnamon and ginger, like a baking shop!”
Just then, a young girl named Lily ran into the room, clutching a crumpled piece of paper.
“Inspector! I saw Mr. Whiskers, the bakery cat walking around with something shiny in his mouth yesterday!”
Septimus’s eyes widened.
“Aha! A clue! The bakery cat has a habit of sneaking into places… maybe he took the mayor’s moustache as a snack or a toy!”
He hurried to the bakery, dodging a rolling dough and tripping over a sack of flour. There, sitting atop a pile of bread, was Mr. Whiskers, the fluffy black cat, proudly licking his paw.
“Mr. Whiskers,” Septimus said softly, “did you take the mayor’s moustache?”
The cat looked up with big, innocent eyes, then jumped down and trotted over to a corner. Septimus followed and found a small, shiny object tangled in a ball of yarn. It was the mayor’s moustache! Or at least, what was left of it.
“Oh no!” exclaimed Septimus. “The moustache has been chewed up!”
The mayor arrived just then, looking worried.
“My moustache! Oh, what am I going to do?”
Septimus looked at the torn moustache, then at Mr. Whiskers.
“It seems your feline friend was very curious and perhaps a bit hungry. But don’t worry, Mayor. I’ll get you a new moustache perhaps one made of real hair, or even a clever fake!”
The mayor chuckled despite himself.
“Well, I suppose every mystery has a reason. Thank you, Inspector!”
Septimus, proud of his detective work, accidentally knocked over a stack of empty milk bottles as he tried to leave.
“Oops! Clumsy as ever. But the case is closed, thanks to a very sneaky cat!”
And from that day on, the townsfolk made sure to keep their moustaches and their catsout of trouble. Inspector Septimus Summer-Garden may have been forgetful and clumsy, but his heart was always in solving the most peculiar mysteries.
Lazarus Carpenter - Author 