by Ulf Nilsson
Detective Gordon didn’t like horrible things. What he liked most was a warm fire, a cup of tea, and a few cakes, preferably with blackcurrant jam. Ideally he would like nothing to happen at all.
But he was a clever detective, of course. He was good at listening to squirrels and writing reports. And he was good at thinking. But perhaps someone could help him with the hard police work, such as climbing and keeping watch, he thought. Perhaps someone younger and slimmer.
A little while later, just before he fell asleep, the Detective Gordon suddenly had an idea.
“Would you like to be a policeman, by the way?”
“Be a what?”
“A policema—woman!”
“Yes!” said Buffy without a second thought.
“Then I will employ you as a policewoman.”
“Yes, yes!” said Buffy in the dark.
“But there is one thing…” continued the detective, clearing his throat. “You mustn’t forget that I am the chief of police. And that you are my assistant.”
“Yes, chief!” answered Buffy.
It was quiet for a moment. In the dark, the detective heard Buffy giggling with happiness.
“Tomorrow we have a difficult task, maybe the hardest we’ve had so far. We must track down the real thief and catch him. Or her. Or them.”
“We can do it, chief,” said Buffy.
Then it was quiet for a long time.
“Is it really true that I’m a policewoman, chief?”
The detective climbed out of bed and disappeared into the dark office. He went to the desk, lit dimly by the moon.
Buffy heard the chair squeak. And then she heard the big stamp being placed on paper, moved a little, and then moved back again. Kla-dunk.
Buffy bubbled over inside.
“Good night, chief.”
The detective came back and climbed into his bed.
“Good night.”
Both of them fell straight asleep.
Investigating new tracks.
Next morning Detective Gordon woke from a dream. He had dreamed that he was running along a path. He ran faster than a deer. And he climbed a tree as nimbly as a squirrel.
“Wretched robbers,” someone cried in a shaky voice. “Robbing wretches! Hoo!”
The detective didn’t open his eyes immediately. He wanted to stay in his lovely dream. Who was that, waking him?
“Villainous thieves!” cried the little creature. “Thieving villains!”
It must be the squirrel, thought the detective.
He opened his big round eyes.
It was the squirrel.
“Good morning,” said the detective.
“The thieves have been there again!” said the agitated squirrel.
Detective Gordon thought about his night vigil and how he caught Buffy, the little mouse.
“No, really,” he said, “it was only a single little nut for a hungry indiv—”
“They’ve taken each and every single one. The whole lot,” cried the squirrel. “Good morning, by the way.”
Then the squirrel caught sight of Buffy lying in the other bed. Only her nose and whiskers showed above the eiderdown. Buffy was asleep.
The squirrel stared.
“Is that the thief? And you caught it? And put it in prison? And now you’re guarding it?”
The detective explained that he had hired an assistant to help him solve the case quickly. And that the two of them would come as soon as they had eaten breakfast.
The squirrel showed no sign of leaving. He had clearly decided to stay. But the detective didn’t want to get out of bed until he was alone.
“Off you go,” he said briskly. “Hurry now and guard the tracks. Don’t touch anything!”
The squirrel hurried off. And the detective got up slowly, with difficulty. He stood bent over by the bed, breathing heavily. He had been so light and quick in his dream…
Then he got dressed and put the kettle on.
“Up you get, Buffy. We have a thief to track down…”
Before he had finished his sentence, Buffy jumped out of bed and saluted. She was already dressed.
“Good morning, chief!” she said in a cheerful voice.
“Good morning. Now we’re going to have a little morning cake. They’re kept in the second big tin, the morning tin.”
He opened the lid and set out four cakes. Vanilla cakes with strawberry jam.
“What’s in the third big tin, chief?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
They ate in peace and quiet, especially enjoying the jam.
As they got ready to leave, Buffy asked, “Shall we take the pistol, chief?”
“No,” the detective said quickly, “not the pistol!”
They trudged through the snow. The sun shone, but it was cold and the detective regretted leaving his gloves behind.
All the animals were awake now. A magpie and a crow were bickering. Sparrows were foraging in the treetops, and there were rabbits digging in the snow. The detective and his assistant saluted them all.
They came to the hole in the pine tree and the detective gave it a bitter look. The squirrel already sat in the hole, complaining. Buffy scampered up.
What a sprightly and clever little assistant I have, the detective thought proudly.
“Bravo!” he said when the mouse reached the hole.
The two above him looked down in surprise. “Bravo what?” they wondered.
“The hole’s very empty, chief.”
“Hmm,” said the detective. “Are the nuts gone?”
“The nuts are very gone, chief!”
Buffy climbed down and the two police officers began to investigate the tracks in the snow. This alleged burglary had occurred in fresh snow. That was perfectly clear. A number of tracks led to the path, where they disappeared into an even greater number of tracks.
Somebody had gone back and forth between the hole and the path with stolen nuts. Who? Or what?
Detective Gordon kneeled low to look at the tracks more closely.
“Bother and dash!” he burst out.
“What’s dash, chief?”
“You don’t need to call me ‘chief’ every time,” the detective whispered.
“Thank you. It’s quite hard to say ‘dash, chief.’”
“The problem is that the thieves have deliberately concealed their tracks. First they ran back and forth with the nuts. Then they dragged a fir branch over the tracks, to wipe out the footprints…”
The squirrel stood beside him, wringing his hands.
“Will I get my nuts back?”
The detective gave him a sharp look and raised his index finger slightly.
“We must think,” he continued.
He walked around, hmming grumpily. He bent down again. He went over the trail and hmmed more crossly. Then he found a fir branch beside the trail, checked it carefully, and his hmm sounded almost pleased. He then went for a long walk in the forest, looking hard at trees until at last he said, “Ha!”
He came back smiling.
“Now I think we can draw some conclusions.”
The squirrel was about to ask something, but the detective raised his finger.
The assistant goes tracking on her own.
“This is how it works!” said Detective Gordon.
He explained that two quite small animals had carried out the theft together. They had planned it. They were aware that it was a crime to steal. They didn’t want to be discovered and they were very smart.
The squirrel and the mouse were dumbfounded.
“How, how, how?” stammered Buffy.
The detective explained his thinking. Anyone who dragged a fir branch over his tracks did it to conceal them. Therefore he or she knew it was wrong to steal.
When the detective had looked carefully at the snowy white fir branch, he had noticed that the snow had melted in two places on each end, where small hands had grabbed the branch to drag it over the tracks. There
fore there were two of them.
Furthermore, the fir branch had been taken from a small tree quite a way off in the forest, and they had brought it with them. Therefore it was planned. And therefore they were smart.
“Bravo!” Buffy felt proud of her chief.
“We can rule out that this is a poor, small, hungry thief who has taken one nut. These are significant thieves.”
“Significant thieves should be in prison!” The squirrel was upset. “And small thieves too, by the way!”
Buffy blushed.
The detective said, “I think that whoever stole because she was so hungry that her stomach ached has not committed a very serious crime.”
“Why not?” protested the squirrel. “One way or the other, the nuts are gone. Think of the poor owner who’s missing his little nut. I won’t get it back just because it was a small thief who ate it.”
Detective Gordon raised his finger and the squirrel was quiet. Sometimes he couldn’t help interrupting.
“How many nuts do you own?”
“Fifteen thousand, seven hundred and four,” the squirrel said quickly. “One-five-seven-oh-four.”
The detective nodded.
“We must have a forest where everybody is happy,” he said. “The crime shall be punished. But if someone is in trouble—say they’re dizzy and about to faint and need a bite to eat—we’re understanding. We must make allowances in our forest. All of us.”
“All of us! Allowances!” the squirrel scoffed. “Now I’m so angry I can’t speak. I’m going.”
And off he went, striding for home. Buffy breathed out.
“It can’t be just any animal who’s done this,” the detective said to Buffy. “Hmm.”
Buffy scratched behind her ear and thought: who could it be?
She thought about rabbits, beavers, birds. No, not birds; they would have flown.
She thought about hares, hedgehogs, bumblebees. No, not bumblebees. There were hardly any bumblebees around in winter.
Then she found herself thinking about the most dangerous animal of all. The most dangerous and the most cunning. Then she thought about two such animals. Two dangerous and cunning animals!
Buffy grew very scared. She needed to make a dangerous and important investigation. The very thought made her shiver. But she must do it regardless. Buffy was a policewoman now. She had to show that she was up to it. And she had to pay for that old nut somehow.
“Chief, I have an idea,” she said. “I think we need to cover a lot more ground in our search, through deep snow, down into narrow dens, and up into tall trees.”
Detective Gordon sighed deeply. He was already very tired.
“Chief, I think I need to do this alone.”
The detective breathed out and smiled.
“Bravo!” he said. “How courageous you are. While you’re at it, I’ll go home and make a list of suspects. And do some stamping. I’ll warm some milk for when you come home. And we’ll eat lunch cakes from the last big tin.”
Buffy wanted to ask something, but Detective Gordon merely raised his finger.
So the two police officers went their separate ways.
Buffy had a plan. She wanted to interrogate a lot of mice, rabbits, and hares. She would ask them if they thought the most dangerous and cunning animal had stolen the nuts.
She visited all the animals she knew. She wormed along tunnels to the nests of field mice, who nodded gravely when she asked them. She burrowed down into sandy rabbit holes and the rabbits also nodded gravely. She scampered over vast fields chasing hares, who also agreed that it would be typical of the most dangerous and cunning animal to steal nuts now as well.
Buffy felt sure.
Now it was time for the second part of her plan.
She climbed high into a tree and spoke with sparrows, wrens, and finches. She gathered ten small birds around her. In a whisper she instructed them to fly out in every direction and look for the most dangerous and cunning creature. Even a long way away.
“Go and look! In the name of the law!”
She felt very proud saying this. All the birds fluttered up and disappeared on command, off to survey the whole forest and then report back to Buffy with the whereabouts of the most dangerous and cunning animal.
And soon she received her answer.
A little wren came flying, out of breath. The most dangerous and cunning creature had been found in his hideout. It was a very long way away.
Now for the third part of her plan.
Buffy had no time to lose. With a pounding heart, she set off. The hideout was beyond the forest, beyond Detective Gordon’s precinct. But the law knew no bounds. The police must catch thieves wherever they might hide.
After a long time, Buffy arrived. She slipped down into the lair itself. Her heart was still pounding, from fear and excitement. She was so scared that her tail trembled, but she crept on through the dugout. The smell was dreadful.
Deeper and deeper she went. It grew darker and darker.
At last she spied the most dangerous and cunning animal, fast asleep. She smelled its bitter stench. She saw its sharp teeth.
Buffy tiptoed bravely around, looking through the entire lair. But she couldn’t find any nuts.
The thief had probably hidden them somewhere else. He was very cunning!
Then she sneaked quietly out again. Outside in the snow, she breathed the fresh, cold air to calm herself. She was very pleased with what she’d done, and she rushed home to the detective.
Her heart was pounding with anticipation.
The police think and stamp.
When Buffy returned, she reported to Detective Gordon.
She sat on the visitors’ stool and the detective was in his swivel chair. He didn’t interrupt her once. He just nodded and made notes on his paper.
“The fox?” The detective said at last.
“Yes,” said Buffy. “The most dangerous and cunning animal. Let’s go and get him now. And put him in prison.”
“How do we get him?” asked the detective.
“We take the pistol and the baton. I can manage the pistol,” said Buffy. “But not the baton.”
“No,” said the detective. “Not the pistol.”
He swivelled in his chair. It squeaked.
“May I sit for a moment in the swivel chair?” asked Buffy.
“No,” said the detective. “This is the chief’s chair. But we can move the visitors’ stool over so we’re both sitting on the same side.”
They carried the stool over. They both sat with their elbows on the table, heads in hands. They kept thinking until the detective stood up.
“It’s time for warm milk and lunch cakes.”
He took four cakes from the final tin. Oat cakes with bits of candied orange.
The lunchtime cakes were very good, they agreed.
The detective said, “Buffy, you’re young, quick, and good at running, climbing, and tracking. I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you,” said Buffy.
“But,” the detective continued, “you must understand that I’m old. Nineteen years old.”
“Whew.”
The detective pretended not to hear. He patted his belly and grabbed a thick roll in both hands.
“I’m perhaps not so limber,” he said, “but I have experience. I once had to deal with the fox. He was being very unpleasant to the mice and rabbits in our forest. I was the one who got him to move to another forest.”
“How?” said Buffy with admiration.
“It is perhaps my most important case. The most beautiful. I’ll tell you about it another time. But right now I can tell you that however horrible the fox may be, he definitely hasn’t climbed trees or stolen nuts.”
Buffy was silent.
The detective showed her the list he had made. The animals who could be suspects were in one column. Beside it, crosses were placed here and there in more columns.
If a particular animal had a cross in the first column, it
meant “this animal likes nuts.”
A cross in the second column meant “can climb trees.”
The third column meant “makes tracks in snow.”
The detective pointed to FOX. It had just one cross: “makes tracks in snow.”
“The fox doesn’t eat nuts and can’t climb. The fox is eliminated. Experience, you see!” The detective kneaded his belly roll.
“Hedgehog,” said Buffy. “What if it’s a hedgehog?”
The detective shook his head and pointed to the list. It read “sleeps during winter.”
“But who has three crosses?” asked Buffy.
The detective looked carefully.
“Mice,” he said, ominously. “And squirrels.”
“Squirrels? But that’s who…”
“There are many squirrels in the forest. Right now, all are suspects,” said the detective, taking out the stamp.
He placed it in the middle of the paper. He checked carefully, moved it a little, and then moved it back. And pressed. Kla-dunk!
Buffy stood up eagerly.
“May I stamp?”
“No, not yet! Stamping is not allowed until you’ve received full police training. Or until you work out how to solve this case,” said the detective, peering down his nose at her.
“Can’t you give me full police training?” Buffy asked. “Teach me how to catch wretched thieves and…”
“Just hear what I say,” said the detective. “And do as I do!”
They sat and thought, each resting their head on one hand. When the detective changed hands, so did Buffy. When the detective sighed, Buffy sighed, too. The detective fetched two extra lunch cakes and placed them in the middle of the desk.
“We can have them when we come up with something.”
Both frowned deeply. The detective appeared to close his eyes. And Buffy scratched behind her ear.