Detective Dad & the Cotton Candy Caper

April 30, 2017


It was a dark and stormy morning. They say crime doesn’t pay, and that’s because of my work. My friends call me Detective Dad, but you can call me The Hammer.


I was in my office in my thinking spot. I was thinking through everything I had to do when I met the client. She was a hot dame, a real knockout. She was also pregnant, very pregnant, and the baby was mine. The dame came up to me with one hand on her hip, and one supporting her back. She had the same look on her face that the cop does when he pulls you over for doing 50 in a 35 for the third time, I’ve seen it on her before.


“Get out of the shower,” she said. “Your daughter has blue cotton candy all in her hair, and we need to get her a shower before school.” Thinking time was over. I grabbed my towel and stepped out of my office. While I was standing there the suspect walked by on her way to the potty. She had long blonde hair, and blue eyes as big as saucers. I let her get her shower and then while she was getting ready for school I began my interrogation.


I thought she’d fold as easy as a dishtowel, but that was all part of the Ballerina’s plan. Between all the cute looks and dance moves when she was supposed to be putting on her shoes, she managed to evade my questions. At first she claimed ignorance, but when I pointed out that my client and I had seen the evidence for ourselves she gave us a story that makes about as much sense as Sheriff Callie’s noodle lasso.

She claimed that she got the blue cotton candy from the pantry. When I asked her how she reached it on the top shelf she claimed that she had stretched really far. She might as well have told me that she grew wings and flew up to get it because this wasn’t true and we both knew it. Seeing that I was getting nowhere with my main suspect I turned my attention to the other suspect. Maybe he was the ring-leader, maybe he was an accomplice, or maybe he wasn’t involved at all, but I aimed to find out.


I called the Zoologist in and fixed my determined gaze upon him. I had dealt with him before, and he is as shifty as they come. It had also been my experience that he would sing like a canary to save his own bacon. All I had to do was help him see that telling me the truth was in his best interests. I started out as the good cop, and then I switched to being the bad cop. I switched back and forth so many times even I wasn’t sure which one I was anymore. Problem was he claimed to know nothing of the cotton candy, and I believed him.


Now it was time to go to school so I loaded up the zoologist and the ballerina and headed down the road. After I dropped him off I peppered her with more questions, but she was as evasive as ever. Whenever it got too hot she told me she told me she loved me or tried to implicate Sandy, her pink sheep lovie. She went to school, and I had to go back to my client and tell her that the mystery of the blue cotton candy would enter the annals of history alongside the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa, the Bermuda Triangle, and how Toodles flies without wings or propulsion.


Somedays you solve the crimes, and somedays the crime solves you.


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