Detective Crystal’s Investigation

Clutching the wooden spoon tightly and shaking it at my younger sister, I began my investigation. ‘OK, who did it? Who licked the mixing spoon?’

‘Not me.’ Madison answered, not looking up from the table.

‘Did too. Who else would have done it?’

‘Did not.’

‘Did too.’

The back door closed with a thump. Mum came in with her arms loaded with towels.

‘All right you two, break it up.’

‘But Mum…’

Madison crossed her arms tightly. ‘I… did… not… lick… Crystal’s… spoon.’

‘Did too.’

‘Girls, that’s enough!’

I tossed the spoon into the sink. ‘Mum, you promised that if I peeled the potatoes last night, I could lick the spoon when we baked the cookies this morning. It was my turn.’ I glared at my seven-year-old sister.

She poked her tongue out and I stomped out of the kitchen.

When I returned a few minutes later, notebook and pencil in hand, Mum and Madison were busy removing cookies from a baking tray.

‘OK… Mum, what happened when I left the kitchen to use the bathroom?’

With an audible sigh, Mum opened the oven door and placed another tray onto the top shelf. ‘Well, after we finished mixing the cookie dough, I went outside to bring the towels in from the clothesline. If Madison licked the spoon, I didn’t see her.’

Madison added a fairy-shaped cookie to a large plate and then turned toward me. ‘I… did… not… lick… your… spoon.’

I noted her statement. ‘Madison, what were you doing while Mum was outside?’

‘Colouring in my book.’

‘Before that, stupid.’

‘Please Crystal.’ Mum intervened. ‘You can play your detective games but please don’t be rude to your sister.’

Madison pushed a tiny candy bow into the icing on the top of a pink fairy before she continued with her defence.

‘I didn’t touch the spoon. Mum said it was your turn to lick it so I went and got my colouring pencils and book from my bedroom.’

Sandy, Madison’s kitty brushed against my legs. ‘Where was Sandy?’ I crouched down and checked the kitten’s paws and mouth.

‘She followed me outside,’ Mum replied, then handed Madison the container of sprinkles.

‘Well, it couldn’t be Sandy.’ Madison added not looking at anyone.

I added my notes about Sandy then poked the pencil behind my ear and placed the notebook onto the table. ‘Can I help decorate the cookies?’

‘Wash your hands and show Madison how to use the icing gun.’

Obediently but aggravated, I moved to the sink and washed my hands. I still think Madison did it. I kept my eyes on miss goody two-shoes while I turned on the tap. Little sister seems to always avoid punishment.

‘Did you come to any conclusions,’ Mum asked.

My attention remained focused on Madison. I took a small spoon from the drawer to use to fill the icing tube. ‘Well, if it wasn’t Madison or Sandy, who else could it be?’

‘It wasn’t me!’ Madison announced he innocence again. ‘You always blame me.’

Momentarily, I concentrated on filling the tube.

‘Well,’ Mum was saying. ‘If you did Madison, no one would be mad at you for it. It’s the lies that I don’t tolerate.’

Madison’s lips quivered. ‘I didn’t.’

A noise from the living room caused me to turn suddenly. ‘What’s that?’

Mum glanced up at the doorway as Dad entered.

Madison’s frown disappeared. ‘Daddy, you’re home early.’

I placed the icing gun on a clean plate. ‘How long have you been home, Dad?’

I grabbed my notepad and drew the pencil from behind my ear. I tapped my foot. ‘Well?’

‘Well…nice to see you too.’ Dad laughed.

I approached Dad and leaned forward. There on his loosened tie, was a tiny blob of chocolate. ‘Dad… you didn’t. How could you?’

‘Do what?’

Mum pointed her finger. ‘So, you’re the culprit.’

Dad bent down to kiss my forehead.

‘Da…ad, your lips are sticky.’

Dad just stood there and grinned. ‘Yeah, I came in to see my beautiful girls before I put my briefcase away. No one was here so I licked the spoon.’ He grabbed a paper serviette and wiped his mouth. ‘I guess you found me out.’

‘You licked the spoon? It was my turn!’

Mum came over and touched my shoulder. ‘I think you have an apology to make, Detective Crystal.’

© Chrissy Siggee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Archived in:
Children’s Corner by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

A Garden of Surprises

‘Daddy! There’s a tiger in our garden!’

‘Really? I hope not. He might dig up the watermelon seeds.’

‘Should we feed the tiger so he won’t come and eat us up?’

‘OK. Why don’t you get Mum’s kitchen scrap-bucket while I’ll put on my garden shoes?’

‘I have my garden shoes on all ready. Look, Mummy tied the laces. Do you think tigers wear garden shoes too?’

‘Well, we’ll soon find out, my young tiger hunter.’

‘Up on my shoulders you go. You can be the lookout.’

‘Yippee! I can see the whole garden up here. Look! Paw prints. It looks like the tiger has been out all night. Daddy, do you think the tiger might be sleeping?’

‘Could be. We will have to keep very quiet so we don’t wake him.’

‘caw caw

‘Look Daddy! It’s a crow. Let me down because he might get me. He could be the tiger’s friend. He might tell him we’re in the garden.’

‘Look over here. This is a lady bug?’

‘Why do they call em’ lady bugs?’

‘I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because they are so petite. Look at her tiny wings.’

‘Oh, look Daddy, the watermelon seeds are popping out.’

‘Yes, they are. Feel the little green shoot. Soon it will grow along the ground into a big vine and we will have lots of watermelons to eat.’

‘Yuck! Daddy, there’s a snail.’ He pointed.

‘We can’t have snails eating our seedlings, can we? We should put him on the compost heap. He can’t do any harm there.’

‘Come on Daddy, we have to feed the tiger.’

‘Be careful where you walk. The garden is a bit overgrown near the shed. We might clean it up next weekend. What do you think?’

‘Oh no, Daddy! Where will the tiger live?’

‘You have a point there. Here we are. Empty the scraps onto the compost pile.’

‘Daddy, can we empty the scraps for Mummy tomorrow? There might be a dinosaur in our garden.’

© Chrissy Siggee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Archived in
Children’s Corner by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

Faith to the Rescue

1931032_36129957313_9434_n-impThe sand was soothingly warm. A gentle breeze kissed her face. With a sleepy yawn, Faith watched seabirds glide silently over a distant wave. A solitary, early morning board rider, paddled out across the sandbar in search of the best. Sunbeams danced on the surface around him. A shipping tanker seemed to glide across the smooth far-away horizon while the sound of waves crashing ashore filled the air.

It was Faith’s first day on the job as a lifeguard. Ken, the head lifeguard, slouched high on the lookout tower, binoculars swinging from the arm of his deck chair. Faith was happy to stretch her long legs on the beach below. She watched a young mother dressed in red, chasing her small child around a sandcastle they had sculpted in the wet sand. The little one was wearing a bright yellow shirt and bathers. Faith blinked drowsily, shifting her slender body into the shade of the tower.

‘Help, someone, please help!’

The scream jerked Faith to attention. Ken almost fell off the tower as he took the steps two at a time. Faith’s gaze fell on the young woman in the red bathing suit screaming hysterically at a small yellow object bobbing in the waves. A quick assessment alerted Faith to a crosscurrent. Seizing a short-coiled rope, she raced down the beach and plunged into the breakers.

‘Wait for me!’ Ken yelled.

She turned her head momentarily and saw Ken dragging the life raft behind him. Her strong legs kicked through the waves. Tolerating her aching limbs, Faith’s eyes remained focused on the tiny head that kept disappearing below the surface. It felt like an eternity of great effort. Her eyes and throat stung from the salt.

Training had not prepared her for the fear she saw in that little pair of eyes of such a small child. Closing the distance, Faith could see the little boy’s eyes wide with fright and gasping for breath. His lips were tinged with a thin blue band. Just a few more yards. Hang on, little one.

 She held one end of the rope tightly between her teeth, causing the rope to trail behind, but as she advanced forward it gave her full use of her tiring limbs. Short wheezing sounds escaped her lungs as she convinced herself to breathe.

‘That’s it, Faith. Let him take the rope,’ she heard Ken calling as he approached from behind her.

The small child gripped the rope briefly then lunged forward, wrapping his little arms around Faith’s neck. Gasping from the pressure, Faith twisted awkwardly with every rise and fall that attempted to consume them. She swam with determination to the nearby raft.

Ken reached over the side and picked the boy up by his shirt sleeve.

Faith began to tread water for a few minutes while Ken rubbed and patted the little one’s back. He gave a choking cough and vomited seawater all over Ken.

Faith turned and swam back to the beach.

By the time Faith reached the dry sand she was exhausted but relieved the child was safe. Faith gave a few hoarse coughs before returning to meet Ken and help pull the raft ashore. The boy’s mother raced to retrieve her toddler from Ken’s arms.

‘Thank you! He was so quick. I only turned my back for a moment to get the towels.’

‘Don’t thank me, thank Faith, our newest lifeguard. It’s a trial program and I think she passed with flying colours.’ Ken grinned.

Faith barked at hearing her name and shook violently, spraying salty water over everyone. Ken and the woman laughed. The child struggled from his mother’s embrace and wrapped his little arms once more around his rescuer’s neck.

‘Say thank you to Faith, Ethan.’

‘Good doggy.’

Faith barked with excitement and licked the little boy’s face until he giggled with delight.

© Chrissy Siggee – 2016

This is a work of fiction. Except for the name of Ken & his dog Faith, all other names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Archived in
Short Fiction by Chrissy at Riverside Peace