The Cupcake of Mrs. Sprinkledot

Lightening flashed outside of my tiny office, illuminating the silhouette of a slim woman with a beehive hairdo.  I propped up my feet on the counter of my desk to await the entrance of this new customer.  My office was dark, and i flicked on the lights as the woman entered.  She stood there blinking, in a drenched overcoat, her chocolate-brown hair piled up on her head like frosting is on a cupcake.  I motioned for her so sit in the hard chairs positioned in front of my desk.

"Sit."

And she sat, clasping her maroon pocketbook in her lap as she quivered on the edge of her chair.

"I need your help," she whimpered.

Of course.  They all do.  I'm Sherlockette Homes, Pastry Detective. 

*    *    *

"So, what is your name?" I asked the woman, grabbing a pen and pad of paper from the drawer of my desk, and prepared to take notes.

"Mrs. Sprinkledot," she replied promptly. 

"And what might your problem be?" I inquired.  It cant be as bad as the case where someone was kidnapped by a muffin.  Or the donut-killing girl. 

"I need to find the person who ate my cupcake.  It's ghost keeps coming back and haunting me, saying that I have to avenge it's death or it will put a curse on me."  Nope, it was worse then muffin kidnappers.

"How long ago was this cupcake eaten?" I asked.

"Two years ago," Mrs. Sprinkledot replied.  I groaned.  This made things complicated.  Why couldn’t people come with nice, easy cases, like a lost sock, or a kidnapped turtle?  Was it really that much fun to deprive local detectives of their sanity with unsolvable, complicated problems?

"Will you be able to help me?"  She begged.

"We'll see," I said, clicking the pen's top rapidly.  "Tell me all about it."

"Well, I was sitting in the airport, eating a cupcake when I saw a friend of mine.  Naturally, I turned around to have a chat.  A man with a beard in a tan fedora was working on a windows laptop behind me.  When my friend's flight was called, she left and i turned around to finish my cupcake," Mrs. Sprinkledot babbled.  "Then just as I noticed that my cupcake was gone, the man in the fedora got up and left."

"Ok," I muttered, rushing to record every last word she said.  "Can you give me a description of this cupcake?"

"It was a vanilla cupcake with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles," she said.  I got up from my chair and pulled over an easel with a large pad of paper mounted on it. I scribbled out a diagram of what the situation looked like.

"Where was this airport that you were at?" I inquired. 

"The Whatthat Airport in Housemoos," Mrs. Sprinkledot got up from her chair and started pacing.

"And what brand was the man-sitting-behind-you's hat?  I mean what company made the fedora?"  Mrs. Sprinkledot furrowed her brow in concentration.

"I think it was a.. a... OH yes, it was a Micheal Raven Fedora."  I scribbled the name down in my notepad. 

"Well, let me think about this for a while.  You better stop by tomarrow," I said, handing Mrs. Sprinkledot a form.  "Please fill out this form so I know where to contact you."  Then she left, entering the world of pooring rain.

*    *    *

After the lady left, I stood up and looked over the information i had collected.  SO far, there was three pages of notes and two diagrams.  A fair amount to work with.  I started pacing, mulling over how to solve this case.  It was obvious that Mrs. Sprinkledot wouldn’t get any rest until it was solved, and I was determined to help her in any way I could.  There was also the problem that Four hours later, I the solution came to me.  I plopped back down in my chair and picked up my phone to dial the number on the sheet of paper Mrs. Sprinkledot left me.

"Hello?" answered the voice on the other side.

"Yes, this is Sherlockette Homes, Pastry Detective," I said.  "I have solved your case.  Come to my office tomorrow at 8:oo in the morning."  And with that, i clicked the phone back in its stand. 

*    *    *

7:59 the next morning, my feet were back on top of my desk.  Suddenly, the door opened, and Mrs. Sprinkledot rushed in.  She immediately sat down in the chair and placed her purse in her lap.  She leaned forward in the chair, eager for information.  I had barely opened my mouth to reply when she interrupted.

"Well?  Did you solve the case?" she blurted.  "Did you break the curse?"

"No, I did not break the curse,"  I said.  Mrs. Sprinkledot visibly deflated.  "But, however, I do know how to solve the case."

"Yes?" she whispered.  If she leaned forward any further, she would fall out of her chair.  "What is the answer?"  I took my feet off my desk and sat upright in my chair.  I shuffled the papers on my desk and clipped them together, looking, might I add, very professional.  Then I clasped my hands together and looked straight into the depths of her hope infested, tear beset eyeballs.

"Go ask another detective, I have no idea what-so-ever," I answered, and with that, I stood up, grabbed my coat from the hanger, and left for my lunch break.

The End!!!