Detective Snuffles

I was woken from my mid-day nap by the most unearthly of screams. I had been sitting amongst my fellow stuffed animal co-workers when I heard the cry. It was high, savage, and terrifying enough to send the bravest of men running, but I am not the bravest of men. It was a scream of loss; I could tell by the slight tremor in it. It was a female human. Female, because there were only females in the vicinity and human, for almost the same reason, though I supposed it could've been the cat Sprinkles. She was notoriously known for the screeching of the most abnormal sounds. But I knew it wasn't Sprinkles, because she was next to me, utterly panicking at the demonic shriek. I knew for a fact that it was human because I knew very well the human who was uttering such a noise. Lillie Anthony rushed into the room, sobbing with the familiar hysteria of a four-year-old. She flopped upon the bed pounding her fists into the flowery comforter and kicking all the stuffed animals behind her. Poor stuffed animals. She was a storm of emotion. There were evident tears and redness on her face. There was anger, yes, but I also noticed the despair of her sobs. Whatever was going on, too, Lillie it was the end of the world. Then again Lillie thought the world was ending if she didn't get dinosaur chicken nuggets. While I saw the disappointment she faced in that matter, I had yet to discover what it was about those nuggets that made them so addicting. I waited for the child to calm herself down. She was on the tail end of the tantrum, the sniffle, and the frown phase. She lifted her head off the bed.

"Detective Snuffles, I'm in need of your special set of skills," she said very neatly and precisely. She sat up onto her knees and looked hard at me.

"Detective Snuffles, Laylay is missing!” 

I would've gasped if I could. Professionally, gasping was looked down upon. But a missing Laylay was no laughing matter. 

"Laylay is missing! Gone! Stolen! Dead! Murdered!"

Lillie was now going into dramatics. I didn't pay that much attention. Laylay could have been misplaced. Perhaps gone? Stolen maybe, but by who? Dead; very unlikely. Murdered; even farther from possible, but I had seen stranger in my years in the field.

"Detective Snuffles, you are the best bear detective in the whole house, will you help me?"

Again, if it had been professional, I would've blushed, but then I remembered that I was the only detective, bear or otherwise, in the house. But altogether I was still touched. I would certainly help Lillie. As her trusted detective I couldn't let her down. She picked me up and held me inches from her face. I could smell the PB&J on her breath. 

"Will you help me?"

She shook me slightly, then squealed. She pulled me into a stuffing crushing hug.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, Detective Snuffles!"

It was undignified and she was rumpling my clothes, but I let her hug me. A missing Laylay called for hugs and much more. But it was time to get down to brass tacks, or whatever tacks are made from these days.

"Okay, okay, the missing is a four-year-old, soft, green, blanket, last seen in the kitchen at snack time."

Good information, but I needed more.

"I'll go get my hat!" cried Lillie abruptly. She leaped up, throwing me back onto the bed. To my annoyance, she had sticky fingers and I could tell that there was some unknown substance on my back. I would have to live with this annoyance. I was on a case. Lillie's exit gave me ample time to question the other animals on their knowledge of Laylay. First, I examined Zipper, one of Lillie's oldest friends and by association Laylay's. Zipper was one of those earlier faders, his original black stripes were now grey, and his pink muzzle was speckled and bumpy. Next to Zipper was Sammy the seal, a newer addition, but who had spent many a night tucked up beside Laylay. Either of them might have an idea where Laylay was. But I wondered if either happened to have a grudge against Laylay. It wasn't hard to have a grudge on an original love. Lillie loved everyone, but she loved Laylay more. The only one out of all the bed residents that might have one such grudge was Floppise, the bunny blanket. Floppise was always second best to Laylay. I didn't know why it was. Maybe it was because Laylay was older. Maybe it was due to Laylay being far softer. But Laylay had always had the favor of Lillie. I looked around and found Floppise at the end of the bed, caught between the crack and the bedding. I was about to ask Floppise where she was during snack when Lillie whirled in. She was wearing her detective hat which was several sizes too large for her. It was rather ridiculous and amateurish, but she always needed it on cases like this. 

"Detective Snuffles, quickly to the living room a suspect has been spotted!" 

A suspect! She hadn't told me there was a suspect. She really needed to work on telling me the important details first. We rushed to the living room. Lillie was quick and spry, climbing over the couch and leaping into a half-full laundry hamper making it slide across the floor. She jumped out and landed in front of the tv. There, was our suspect, fast asleep. 

"Cookie, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Laylay," Lille said pointing defiantly at the fluffy border collie. Oh, she had so much to learn. Cookie looked up, blinking away sleep. Her tail began to wag though when she noticed Lillie. Cookie wasn’t my idea of a likely suspect. At least not a willful or premeditative crime. She was all slobber and play, but she hadn’t much interest in Lillie’s things. Even if she had, the evidence of her crimes would have either been strewn about the living room like blood spatter or thrown up in the middle of the room. This didn’t stop Lillie from fiercely interrogating. She was all demands and bad cop, which was hilarious since she was anything but the bad cop in looks. It could’ve worked if she had let me at least play good cop. 

“Cookie, where were you at snack time!?”

Nothing. 

“I know you did it, Cookie.”

Cookie just wagged her tail more.

"Have you seen the missing green blanket?"

More wagging and more silence.

“Cookie, what is your ali-bi-bi?” she said, stuttering over ‘alibi’, which threw off any intimidation she had acquired. Frustrated she stomped her foot.

“Tell me where Laylay is!”

 Cookie proceeded to roll onto her back and expose her belly. Even the toughest of bad cops couldn’t have resisted her. Lillie obviously couldn’t. She knelt and began the pet Cookie’s plush belly. Dogs, I have observed, can either win over the owners through pure intelligence or utter charm. Cookie was all charm. But this distraction couldn’t last long, we were losing valuable time to find any evidence of Laylay’s location. As I was beginning to look around Cookie’s bed for clues, I was knocked out of Lillie’s hand by Cookie jumping on Lillie to lick her sticky, kiddy, hands. The world was spinning, and I didn’t know when the dizziness was going to end. I landed with a thunk on the threshold of the laundry room. The smell of detergent and musty socks wafted in the air. The laundry room was home to copious amounts of Lillie's dirty clothes, from dresses to winter jackets. Most were covered in a variety of stains. The place wasn't empty either. Mom was standing folding some of Lillie's things. She seemed to be completely unaware of her daughter's investigations. To give her credit though, the dryer was running, and Lillie's little investigations were something she had gotten used to. She was one of those mothers who let their children create their own worlds. I had deduced over the years of watching her and Lillie that she had most likely had a stifled childhood, not that I'm an expert or anything. She was folding the clothes with excellent precision and the skill of a well-tried habit. I could still hear Lillie giggling and questioning Cookie in the living room. She sounded like she was having a grand but unproductive time. Having a feeling I would be stuck in the laundry room for some time, I began to inspect the room more carefully. I had solved many a lost sock case in the place as well as the mystery of the new detergent smell. The socks had mostly been located behind the door, while the detergent was a lavender lemon. It was far from my favorite room in the house. The raucous sound of the washing and drying machines was a constant roar. I saw nothing out of the ordinary clutter and spaghetti stained shirts. I went back to watch Mom fold. She was shaking out a blanket. An old blanket. An old, soft, blanket. An old, soft, green, blanket. I had located Laylay. Just then Lillie walked into the room.

"There you are Detective Snuffles! The suspect knew nothing," she said, picking me up.

"Who was the suspect hunny?" Ask Mom turning around from her work. 

"Cookie."

"Ah, well Cookie is a hard nut to crack."

Mom smiled at her, then noticed me.

"Hunny, you've got jam all over Detective Snuffles."

I realized horrified, that she was right. Like blood oozing from a gunshot, there was strawberry jam all on me. I hadn't even noticed; I had been so wrapped up in the case.

"Let me see him so I can get him washed up," she said, and I had to stifle a shudder. Washed up. Washed up as in washed in the washing machine. That dreaded contraption. I had known so many who had entered the belly of that beast and not returned. So many stuffed animals, so many socks. Lillie pulled me close and said,

"But Mommy I need Detective Snuffles!"

"Hunny, he's all gross, don't you want him clean? I’m sure he wants to be clean."

I sure didn't, I would've rather accumulated all that Lillie could put on me than face that dark spinning madness full of water and cleaner. I felt safe though, in Lillie's arms. She wouldn't let go of me without a fight. Mom wouldn't want a tantrum on her hands.

"Mommy I need him to solve the case!"

"What case hunny?"

"The case of the missing Laylay!" Lillie said desperately. There were tears back in her eyes. The tantrum was on its way. My safety was almost secured.

"Laylay's right here," Mom said holding up the fresh green blanket, "I had to wash Laylay after you got PB&J on it."

I remembered Laylay. I remembered that Laylay had gone missing after snack. I remembered that smell of peanut butter that had overpowered me when Lillie had first come to me. Then there had been the sticky fingers and the laundry basket in the living room. The clues had all been there. How stupid I was. But at least Lillie would now have her Laylay. 

"Laylay!" Lillie squealed, reaching out for the blanket, but her mother put out her hand stopping her. 

"Are your hands clean?"

"Cookie cleaned them," she replied, showing a clean hand.

"Of course, she did," Mom said with a slight laugh. Lillie once again waited to get Laylay back. I, too, was waiting. I didn't understand why mom didn't just hand it over. There was a growing feeling of an actual hostage situation. 

"Can I have Laylay?" asked Lillie finally.

"You can have Laylay, if, you give me Detective Snuffles."

Those were high demands. I felt terror creep through me. But Lillie wouldn't give me up. Not that easily at least. I was sure that some classic arguing was about to take place. If I was lucky, a meltdown would end with Lillie getting both me and Laylay. Then I would be safe. I couldn't face the wash. I just couldn't. The cold was too much. The dark too unforgiving. But Lillie wouldn't let me down.

"Okay!" Lillie agreed. I had been betrayed. She traded me off for her beloved blanket. She did it without a second thought. I was put in the washing machine and began to suffocate amongst the clothes and towels. I could just make out Lillie hugging Laylay. She looked at me, trapped in the machine of doom.

"I'm sorry Detective Snuffles."

Then the first of many spin cycles started and I was lost in the flood of clammy water.