Story: The Disappearance (III)

(Part II , IV )

In other police divisions, the disappearance of evidence would be automatically assumed to be theft, but in the Plain Chocolate Digestive Detectives we have to take things much more slowly. Those blasted baked good were dangerous and caused more disappearances every year than the public knew about. Every town has an operative in our line of duty and no-one outside even suspects.

Sometimes the evidence spontaneously combusts, or does a quantum curtain call and vanishes, and even sometimes someone will just eat the biscuit before it goes completely off. One of our previous lab technicians did that very thing and has now not been seen for three months and then was insisting everyone call him Geronimo. Sometimes it all seems so blasted silly.

On days like these I miss my ex-partner Wiggins. She was always good with a reality check at times like this.

Fred and Cheryl were in the recovery room downstairs. Their colleague Randolph had taken some diagnostics and pronounced them safe from the things that normally ailed us in the line of duty and they were going to for a full set of regular checks once they felt up to it. Brockel was going to debrief them en route to the hospital and work out just what has happened to them. Carter and I were dusting the lab and doing some basic forensics and Swanson was checking the security tapes. We were coming up with nothing when Swanson called on the telephone and we went across to the security hub.

While out equipment can be a little antiquated in places we do have the best people available. Swanson had combed through the footage quickly and efficiently and we were not witnessing the last few moments of Fred and Cheryl's analyses before the incident occurred. Before our eyes three people in black burst into the lab and quickly mesmerised the technicians with PCDs before trying to wipe the computers and making an exit. I looked at Swanson, trying to ignore the ridiculous moustache. "Where was the guy on monitor duty?"

"Laid out on the floor right over here." Swanson pointed at the floor next to a nineteenth century filing cabinet. "He was chloroformed."

"Chloroformed?" Why use chloroform when they had PCDs? Perhaps they only had limited powers? We never knew what was going on with those blasted biscuits. No other baked item caused this kind of trouble! Not even gingerbread men, and there was so much scope for their use as automata or ninjas. Swanson shrugged; He had always been a man of few words. Carter looked at me, seeking guidance. "We'll sleep on it. Nothing to do now until we get Fred and Cheryl's accounts." I looked back at Swanson. "Try and run some matches on the video. Do some research. Usual things." This time the man nodded. We were up to three different expressions from him today, he must have been in a positive state of mind.

Then I went home and to sleep. Sometimes sleep is the only useful help you can get.