The Case of the Lost Cookie

My name is Wednesday, Wendy Wednesday. I was undercover, as undercover as a quadriplegic in a power chair can be who is wearing a bright red Nike T shirt and sporting an orange safety flag. I rolled into the sub shop and looked around.

No one there except the folks behind the counter. I ordered a sub, extra lettuce, extra mustard. That was when it hit me.

"How much are those double fudge cookies?" I asked.

"A buck," the cashier said.

"I'll take one."

In true Dragnet style, I like to keep my conversations brief. You never know when a total stranger will become a witness and have to be questioned. I took my bag with the sub and the double fudge cookie and headed home.

Arrived at my destination while it was still light out. By the time I got there, my cookie was gone. Concluded it fell out when I had to go over that double crack in the sidewalk or skirted around the bicyclist. I was too tired to retrace my steps that day.

The next morning I set out to search for the lost cookie. Double fudge. Wrapped in saran wrap. Clearly identifiable. No fingerprints.

Ruling out the most obvious possibility that the cookie never was put into the bag (since I checked), I did a visual scan of the sidewalks between Point A and Point B. No cookie. I questioned the skateboarder who was playing hooky. He denied seeing the cookie or eating it. His alibi? He's allergic to chocolate.

It was then I found the stray dog laying down beside the white picket fence two blocks away. I leaned down. His breath smelled like double fudge. The wrapper was several feet away, slightly chewed. His tag read Fluffy.

Solved, I thought, rolling back toward the sub shop. It was empty except for the people behind the counter. I ordered a cookie. One. Double fudge.

The story you have just heard is true. The names were changed to protect the innocent.

In this 1954 clip from Dragnet, Leonard Nimoy makes a brief appearance (with the moustache).