C.S.I. grandma style

The Bug pulled a notepad from his stash in his backpack.  Out came a flashlight, binoculars, and a magnifying glass, and other spy paraphernalia.  “I’ve been planning on being a spy since I was five,” he admitted, “even before Dad gave me this C.S.I tablet.  I thought we could do a little investigative work.”

I knew right where to begin.  Grandpa, the “shove and close guy,” uses a CPAP machine to sleep.  Until recently it had a case, but the case has turned up missing.  Not surprising, since his way of filing means never the same place twice.  He’d been looking for it for days.

“Sit down in the chair,” I said.  “We need to ask you a couple of questions.”  The Bug proceeded to jot down everything he said. 

“Read it back to me,” said Mr. Organized.  “Black, about a foot tall, long strap, didn’t take to Vegas.”  Good thing, I thought, otherwise the search would be a long one.

It took us a while.  We talked about where it might fit and where he might have had it last.  Finally, after about fifteen minutes we found what we thought might be it.  “Is this your bag, Sir?” asked the Bug.

“Where’d you find it?” asked Grandpa.

“Under your duffle bag in the closet,” I said.

“Case Solved,” the Bug wrote on the bottom of his investigative notes.

“My turn,” called out the Worm.  “I’ll hide something, then forgot where.”

 “That’s the funniest thing I ever heard,” said Grandpa.  Who knew they were the same age.

She returned.  “I’ve lost my duck.”

“Give us the facts,” I said.  The Bug took notes.  “White, about 3 inches tall, fluffy.” 

 “Does it fly?” I asked.

“Oh, Grandma,” she laughed, “it’s a stuffed animal.”

“Write down,” I said looking at the Bug, “flies only when thrown across the room.”

“Has something blue around its neck,” said the Worm.

“Wears a blue ascot with the word Aflac on it,” says the Bug, writing it down.  Detective Grandpa and I look at one another.  Where’d he know that word from?

“One more question,” said Grandpa.  “Where’d you hide it?”

Without missing a beat, she said, “I forgot.”

“Stay in the room, M’am,” said Grandpa.  “We might have to arrest you for ducknapping.”

“That’s the funniest thing I ever heard,” said the Worm.

We rescued the duck, and then it was my turn.  I hid a ceramic baby shoe.

“Left or right foot,” the Bug interrogated.

“Left,” I said.  “And it’s white.”

“What’s your name?” asked Grandpa.

“Penny,” I responded.

“Your height?”

“Five-five.  Anything else you want to know.”  I gave him a dirty look, like don’t go there.

“Not on your life,” he said.  “I don’t want to get slapped.”

The Bug was only gone a minute.  I think the detective ate too many pumpkin pancakes, as I heard a door slam.

The Worm came in wearing a strand of Orleans ribbon of beads around her neck.  I’d hid the shoe behind the sparkly necklaces draped over the gold pot in the living room.  “That’s a great clue,” I said, tugging at the beads.  She ran back and found the shoe.

Next it was the Bug’s turn.  He ran in out of breath, doing a great job of acting stressed.  “I need to hire a detective.”

“What’d you lose,” I asked. 

“My Hottie Lines,” he said.  Funny, I think most men have lost them.

“It’s a black and red button,” he said.

“What was the last thing you heard it say,” asked Detective Grandpa.

“I wish you were a shovel, because I so dig you,” he said.

I dig you too, Lo, Ro and Grandpa.  Thanks for the fun morning.

Related posts:

1. The gaps in my life
2. Play ball
3. Where did the years go?
4. Play it again, grandma
5. A winter’s day in California with grandkids