A Micro Fiction: The Curious Case of the Cookie Jar

His suspect sat in an oversized wooden chair that made him seem as small and insignificant as the pet fish. The suspect’s arms were tied down with a thick tie, bound tight around the small, puny wrists.Detective Tim Holt smirked, leaning in to give the suspect a fierce, knowing look. ‘You are the thief, aren’t you Mr Hart?’

Suspect Frederick Hart blinked back at him from his restraints. A tough one, eh. Well, Detective Holt would just have to up his game.

He lunged forward, grasping the suspect’s shirt and yanked him forward in his seat.

‘Did you steal from the Dark Queen?!’

Behind him, a faint giggle echoed out. ‘Dark Queen?’

Detective Holt whirled, glaring at his partner who flushed crimson from her porcelain seat, clipboard in hand.

‘Sorry,’ she muttered, and shrugged apologetically at his suspect.

‘No fraternisation Miss Hart, or I’ll have you thrown off this case!’

‘Yes, Tim. Er, detective.’

Detective Holt turned back to the suspect, his eyes narrowed. ‘Only a fiendish scoundrel would corrupt my most loyal agent. Who knows what else you’re capable of. Now tell me, fiend, where did you hide the booty?!’

‘Isn’t booty for pirates?’


The suspect remained silent in his restraints, staring at Detective Holt as if it were he who was crazy, and not the other way around.

‘Listen here, you uncut…that’s not right…’

‘Uncouth,’ supplied his loyal partner.

‘Yes! You uncouth…fiend. I will discover how you did it, and how you hid the evidence. We’ll catch you, with or without your confession, but let me tell you this: your consequences will be dire if you do not reveal the truth now. Now, once and for all, are you the thief?’

The suspect rose an eyebrow, and looked pointedly down at his tied up hands.

‘Uh, Tim—oh, I mean detective! Fred— um, the suspect can’t speak. Remember?’

Detective Holt paused. ‘Oh,’ he said, and fought the flush of embarrassment. ‘Well. I will release only one hand!’

The suspect rolled his eyes.

As Detective Holt began to untie one arm, the door to their dark interrogation room creaked open and the Dark Queen entered!

‘What on Earth? Timothy Holt, what are you doing?!’

‘Mum! You’re ruining my interrogation!’

‘Interrogation my foot, untie Freddie right now!’

‘But Muuum, he’s our main suspect! He stole from the Cookie Jar!’ he yelled dramatically, pointing at the suspect just like he’d watched the detective do in all the cop shows his mother—uh, the Dark Queen watched. ‘And I will get a confession.’

‘Well you can take your interrogation into the backyard and out of my bathroom! Are those my father’s silk ties?!’

‘We better go,’ Tim muttered to his suspect, quickly untying the rest of Freddie’s restraints and diving for the safety of the hallway, the twins hot on his heels.

‘Tim,’ said his most loyal partner, Miss Hart. ‘Is now a good time to remind you that you ate the last cookie from the cookie Jar?’

‘What? I never—oh wait…’

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