Leonard Pie the Canine P.I. and the Case of the Missing Busy Bee

It was a slow morning in the office, the kind of morning where the coffee tastes like regret and the air hums with boredom.

Outside in the streets, the air was cold and unforgiving. Just another frigid Kentucky January in Newport. Leonard stared at the chipped mug on his desk, thinking of better times. The words “World’s Best Dog” were smudged, but they still held their meaning.

He adjusted his fedora and sniffed the air. Rain. A perfect day to get drenched in trouble. He opened his leather briefcase, stuffed with crumpled case notes and old chew toys, and pulled out a pad.

He barely had time to jot “Case 114: Nothing New” when she knocked.

“It’s open,” Leonard grunted from the side of his mouth.

A vision in white, all curls and confidence, with a whiff of lavender that hit him like a velvet paw, rushed in. “Are you Leonard?” she asked, her voice sugary but with an edge, like a rugged, half-chewed bone.

“Depends on who’s asking,” Leonard said, leaning back in his chair and kicking up his back paws. He accidentally knocked his desk, and his briefcase fell shut with a thud, revealing the fluffy, white beauty in front of him. Like a half-blown cumulus cloud, she drifted toward a chair.

He eyed her, waiting for a response.

“My name’s Sprinkles. I’ve lost something… something dear to me.” She sat down, crossing her paws, the picture of heartbreak. This was a poodle in need.

Leonard tilted his hat. “Spill it.”

“It’s my Busy Bee,” Sprinkles whispered. Her voice trembled, and Leonard could see the tears she was holding back. “It’s gone. I don’t know where I last had it, but I can’t sleep, I can’t eat—do you—do you think someone could have taken her? I just can’t bear to—”

“Alright, alright,” Leonard interrupted. He had seen this kind of despair before. “I’ll take the case. But I don’t work for free.”

Sprinkles slid her paw across the desk. She lifted it, revealing a sizable pile of yellow circular puffs, joined two by two. He sniffed them. Premium, cheese-flavored Buddy Bits. His favorite. Leonard nodded, trying not to look excited.

Leonard’s first stop was the park.

The squirrels were jittery as always, scurrying into the trees at the sight of Leonard. He sniffed around the usual suspects: the garbage cans, the bench near the fountain, and the old oak tree where the corgi gang liked to hang out. They were a ragtag bunch, to be sure. But he came up empty-handed. No luck.

Leonard continued the investigation with a visit to Stinkin’ Lincoln, a cat with IBS and a mouth to match. He had the runs at both ends.

“Spill it, Link!” Leonard barked, pinching his nose to block out the terrible aroma of used cat litter and bad decisions. “You heard word of this missing Busy Bee?”

Stinkin’ Lincoln looked up from where he had been leisurely making biscuits in a floof he lay on. It was situated in the corner of the smelly cat’s disheveled office, next to the heat register, which did nothing more than warm up and push more terrible smells into Leonard’s face.

“Sorry, Pie Man,” Link hissed. “No whispers on the street of this Bizzzy Beeez.” He went back to making biscuits.

“Don’t do me like that, Link!” Leonard boofed. He nosed over a smelly prawn he’d pulled from the garbage of a nearby seafood restaurant. “You know about every cock-eyed Simon on the walk. Spill the beans, and there’s more shrimp on the Barbie…”

Stinkin’ Lincoln’s eyes widened with excitement. His slit pupils darkened and fanned out. He stopped making biscuits and grabbed the shrimp with both paws, stuffing it into his mouth eagerly.

“Ok, ok,” Link spat. Bits of shrimp shell peppered Leonard’s face as he spoke. “A little birdie told me that Gabby the Golden Retriever was watching out the window for the mailman and spotted Annie Banannie trotting down the street with a toy she could not afford.” Link finished the prawn and burped. “I’d start there, Pie Man. Now hand over the goods.”

Leonard smirked and pulled three more smelly shrimp from his briefcase, dropping them in front of Stinkin’ Lincoln. Then he turned his back on the cat, hearing only the eager crunching sounds of consumption and soft purrs.

He shut the door to Link’s office, glad to be out of that disgusting den. His mind was rushing. Annie Banannie lived near Sprinkles’ house. It was all starting to make sense.

Next stop, Sprinkles’ house. Her yard was a pristine sea of green, squared off by a white picket fence. Nice to see how the other half lived. He stopped in his tracks. Leonard’s nose detected something off. A faint honey scent. Busy Bee, alright!

Each Busy Bee toy was sprayed with a sweet appetite encourager that tasted like bacon and honey. He’d never needed such things, but they were all the rage with the picky eaters. He followed the cloud of saccharine sniffs to the neighbor’s yard. Annie’s house.

There, sitting smugly in the middle of a pile of stolen toys, was Annie Banannie, the English Springer Spaniel with sticky paws and a reputation to match.

“Leonard,” Annie barked, wagging her tail nervously. “What brings you here?”

“You know why I’m here,” Leonard growled. “Hand over the Busy Bee.”

Annie grinned. “Finders keepers.”

Leonard narrowed his eyes. “You know the rules, Annie. If I have to come back, it won’t be pretty. I’ll take every last one of your Buddy Bits, and you’ll be left with cheese dust and bad dreams.”

Annie sighed and relented. “Fine, you big spoil sport!” She tossed the Busy Bee over. Leonard caught it midair with a snap of his jaw, his instincts sharp as ever.

Back at the office, Sprinkles' face lit up when she saw her toy. “Oh, Leonard, you’re amazing!”

“All in a day’s work,” Leonard said, tipping his hat. He popped a couple of cheese-flavored Buddy Bits into his mouth and chewed eagerly.

As Sprinkles pranced out the door, Leonard leaned back in his chair, the faint squeak of the springs a reminder of the miles he’d walked, the cases he’d cracked. Another mystery solved. Another treat earned.

Good boy.