The story so far: Everything is going missing — Rudo Rat’s tinfoil roll, Angelica Fish’s copper bells, Mrs. Crow’s glass crystals.. the dog detectives, Dark Knight and Shorty, are determined to find the culprit. Now, if it isn’t Missy Loot, who could it be?
Dark Knight didn’t think Tommy was the culprit. He saw a pattern in the missing objects, that Shorty had clearly missed. “What would Tommy do with a whistle or tinfoil or any of those stolen items, Shorty? Don't you see they are all itsy-bitsy pieces of crap... but all shiny?”
“Then it’s Missy Loot. She’s probably putting together a ridiculous outfit to wear when she’s out robbing innocent victims,” said Shorty.
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The super sleuth canines snuck out of the garden and walked down the road. Both were lost in thought. Who was the thief and what did he or she need with these random objects? None of the animals on 6th Avenue fit in, and Dark Knight knew all of them well. It had to be a new kid on the block or a visitor.
The duo reached the deserted main road. Just as they were about to head homeward, they heard a rustling above them. In a few seconds, they heard it again. “Tinfoil,” whispered Shorty. His eyes shone with excitement. A few silent moments later, they heard a clinking and tinkling and then some more rustling. Darko and Shorty were sure they had found the thief... well, almost. “How do we get up there, Darko? Why can’t dogs climb trees?” whined Shorty.
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Click! Click! Click!
“That thimble. That is going to give us away, Shorty. Stay put,” Darko growled. Then, an idea struck him. “Quick, Shorty, go hide in that bush. Stick your thimble toe out. The starry-eyed thief up in the tree will swoop down to grab it for sure,” Dark Knight said, excitedly.
Shorty did as he was told. The moment a beam of light bounced off the thimble, he heard a rustle in the gulmohur branches above them. In seconds, a beady-eyed black bird came gliding towards him. He felt the hard beak grab at his paw and then pull at the thimble. Shorty didn’t put up a fight. The bird yanked hard at the thimble and to her surprise along with it came a ruffled up, snarling doggy! Before she could fly up into the night, Darko pounced her and pinned her to the ground.
“Medira? When did you return?” growled Darko.
“Once a thieving magpie, always a thieving magpie,” said Shorty, after he had refitted the thimble.
“Hand over the loot and leave. You are not welcome here,” thundered Darko.
Not long ago, he had caught Medira stealing beads and shiny stones. He knew that magpies loved to decorate their nest with fancy stuff, but Darko did not approve of stealing.
He turned around and spoke into the bushes. “Tommy, make sure Medira hands over the loot.”
The mangy cat, slightly embarrassed at having been found out, stepped into the light and nodded solemnly at Darko. He dragged Medira by the wing and sprinted up the gulmohur . Some rustling, hissing and purring later, Tommy clambered off the tree with a sack in tow. He handed it to Darko and scampered off. Darko and Shorty watched as Medira flapped away and melted into the night.
The happy heroes beamed as they walked back to their spot, dragging the sack of loot. The lost items would be returned before the break of dawn.
The End