In the bustling city, Inspector Septimus Summer-Garden was known for his unwavering dedication, despite his notable clumsiness and near-sightedness. His thick glasses often slipped down his nose, and he frequently tripped over uneven cobblestones or misread street signs, much to the amusement of his colleagues. Yet, his keen intuition and kind heart made him a beloved figure in the police force. One misty Monday morning, Inspector Summer-Garden received a call from Mrs. Beatrice Oppington, Harry’s worried daughter. Harry Oppington, her father, an 82-year-old retired clockmaker, had gone missing the night before. He was last seen leaving his modest cottage on Maple Lane, clutching his beloved pocket watch, and heading toward the town square. Mrs. Oppington explained,
“He was supposed to meet me for tea, but he never arrived. He’s been a bit forgetful lately, but he’d never just disappear like this.”
Inspector Summer-Garden adjusted his glasses and nodded solemnly.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll find him.”
The inspector set off with his trusty notepad, which he often jotted notes on with a pen that frequently leaked ink. His first stop was Harry’s cottage, where he noticed a few scattered clock parts on the doorstep, a sign that Harry had been tinkering late into the night. Inside, the detective examined Harry’s workshop. Among the clock gears and tiny screws, he spotted a crumpled piece of paper: a torn corner from a newspaper. It depicted an advertisement for the upcoming Brightvale Fair, with a small handwritten note: “Meet me at the fountain at noon.”
“Ah,” muttered Summer-Garden, squinting at the note. “Harry was planning something.” He scribbled in his notebook: ‘Meeting at the town fountain at noon.’
Next, he visited the town square, where the fountain stood tall and proud. There, he observed a small crowd gathered around a street performer. Among them, an elderly man with a distinctive gray cap, Harry, in the flesh!
“Excuse me,” Summer-Garden called out, staggering slightly as he tripped over a cobblestone. “Are you Harry Oppington?”
Harry looked up, startled but smiling. “Yes, that’s me. I got a bit lost.”
The inspector chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “Mrs. Oppington was worried sick. What were you doing here?”
Harry explained that he’d gone to meet a young clockmaker who had promised to show him a rare antique watch at the fair. But Harry had forgotten the time and gotten turned around. Just then, a commotion arose nearby, someone had lost a small satchel containing valuable jewelry. Harry, noticing the commotion, instinctively pointed toward a suspicious-looking individual trying to slip away.
“Look, that man over there! He’s acting suspiciously,” Harry exclaimed.
Summer-Garden, despite nearly knocking over a passing vendor, managed to catch up and gently confront the suspect. It turned out to be a petty thief who had snatched the jewelry. Thanks to Harry’s sharp eye and despite his forgetfulness, the culprit was apprehended. With Harry safely back in his daughter’s arms and the thief in custody, Inspector Summer-Garden felt a warm glow of satisfaction. His clumsiness had inadvertently played a part in solving the case, and his near-sightedness had helped him focus on the little details others might overlook. As he made his way back to the station, he chuckled to himself, adjusting his glasses.
“Another case closed, with a little help from an old clockmaker and a bit of luck.”
Mrs. Oppington later baked him a batch of his favorite scones as a thank-you. Inspector Summer-Garden, ever the humble hero, simply tipped his hat and smiled.
Lazarus Carpenter - Author 