The Case of the Missing Sandwich

At one minute past noon on Saturday, a ham sandwich vanished from my kitchen counter. It was there at noon. Nobody else was home. A good detective follows the clues, so I put on my long coat with the big collar and opened the case.

The Investigation

Clue one. An empty plate. The sandwich didn’t fall. It was taken.

Clue two. A trail of crumbs, leading from the kitchen to the living room.

Clue three. The couch. Someone had been sitting on it very recently. It was still warm.

Clue four. A spot of mustard, on the cuff of the detective’s shirt.

The suspects:

• The neighbor’s cat. It sleeps on my car and has no respect for property. But it has no thumbs.
• The mailman. He has thumbs. But he doesn’t have a key.
• The neighbor’s dog. It was visiting that day. It had no motive. It prefers chicken.

The Solution

At three o’clock, I gathered the suspects in the living room: the cat, the dog and a photo of the mailman. I walked up and down in front of them, slowly, the way detectives do. I pointed at each one in turn.

Then I looked down at the mustard on my cuff. The room went very quiet.

The case is now closed. The sandwich was delicious, as far as the detective can remember. The suspect has been released with a warning, and a fresh sandwich.