Andrea Blumberg

My friend Erica is not what you would call a hard-core puzzler.  So I decided to go easy on her with the difficulty level, and instead concentrate on the storyline.  I started with the fact that she likes funky socks, and that I would get those for her as a present.  Then, given that she has a black cat whom she named Maurice Blanche after a detective in a novel, I decided to make him the main character in a mystery story, with the other character taken from my limerick about palindromic cats ("Yo, Oy!" said the old Philly Jew/ Taco Cat was just sick in my shoe!/ Evil Olive eats socks,/ Hannah misses the box.../ Senile felines are making me blue.") 

I wrote this story as an introduction:

The Case of the Stolen Socks

Maurice Blanche sat in his office, stroking his whiskers. He paused, eyes gazing into the distance, unseeing. Then he licked his paw, drew it over his whiskers again, and continued up and over his ear, rubbing at it several times, more to clear his head than to clean his fur.

The day had begun as a normal day: still buzzed from an early-morning tummy rub, Blanche had padded into his box to do his business. His blissful mood dissolved in an instant when, smack in the center of the litter, he saw a mysterious paw print. It didn't belong to him, nor did he recognize it, and, perhaps most sinisterly, the print only had three toes.

Blanche had backed out without disturbing it, and sat down to puzzle out the meaning. No other cat had access to his box, and the two-legged beings didn't have feet of that shape. The print was made cleanly and deliberately, as if it was placed there as a message for him. But he hadn't a clue as to how to interpret it.

Eventually he took his business outside, in the rain, and when it was complete he reentered the house and went to his office to start the day's work. For the second time that morning he got a shock. There, in the circular tray, hidden under the ball, was a note. He fished it out, and, after batting the ball around the track compulsively five or six times, he opened the note and read it.

Dear Dr. Blanche,

You are the only one who can help me. I know my reputation is not the best; made worse by that slanderous rhyme about me being a sock-eater. You know the one, where Taco Cat is accused of footwear-directed regurgitation, and Hannah's litterbox tidiness is impugned. I don't know who came up with these allegations. Taco Cat and Hannah are blameless as far as I know. And I've never eaten a sock in my life!

But I have, to my shame, stolen more than a few. But it's not because I'm evil! Really, I'm not. I was forced into it by-- well, I'd better not mention any names. Suffice it to say that there is a power greater than myself who has been coercing me into performing stocking crimes. I don't have the strength to stand up to him, or to run away, but my dearest hope is that if I can lead you to him, you will be able to stop him. Please put an end to my misery and to the vexation that I have caused for countless hosiery wearers.

I left you a clue in your inbox – a paw print – and there are several other clues to be found in this house. I need to be careful about what I say, in case any of these missives are intercepted, but I know your intelligence will serve you in finding them all and putting the information together. The next clue is to be found with another innocent victim, who has for years been wrongly accused of being a sock stealer and eater.

Please follow my trail! It will lead you to the real criminal. Only you have the power to bring him to justice.

Purringly,

Olive

Blanche meditated on her note as he continued to lick his paw absently. Evil Olive not evil? Could he believe the words of a notorious cat burglar? Were all of her crimes really instigated by another, stronger nemesis? And was this truly an appeal for him to bring down a powerful adversary, or was it a cleverly worded trap, luring Blanche into...into what? He gave one final chew at his paw and then shook his head briskly. He would follow the clues Olive laid out, but he would do it with one ear cocked over his shoulder.

Now, what was her next direction? Ah yes, to find “another innocent victim, who has for years been wrongly accused of being a sock stealer and eater.” What did she mean by that...

The answer to the "wrongly accused sock stealer and eater" was, of course, the clothes dryer.  When she looked inside the dryer, she found a little crocheted sock with one color for the foot part and another color for the ankle part, plus a letter embroidered on the outside.  The sock had a note tucked inside, leading to the where the next sock was hidden.  One sock led to the next, 10 in all.

Each clue was written from the point of view of the cat, eg. "Pass swiftly through the room where the water sprays out of every hulking object, and pause to sharpen your claws on the first soft object that you see. Make like you're about to go outside, but turn over for a belly rub, instead."  Which meant "Go through the bathroom, and stop at the couch.  Aim for the cat door, but instead lie down and look up."  That placed her at the table next to the couch, and on the bottom surface of the table was taped a sock.

The final sock had the clue, "It may seem like these socks are mismatched, but if you can match them up in the right way, you will be able to read a message. That message will explain the mysterious paw print, and the paw print will lead you to the hiding place of the evil mastermind. Find him!"

Matching the colors of the socks enabled her to put them in order (the first sock had a red foot, which matched the red ankle of the second sock.  The second sock had an orange foot which matched the orange ankle of the third sock, etc.  Look at the pictures below).  When matched up they read "It's a QR code." 

Using her phone's QR reader on the pawprint gave (with a little bit of fussing, to get it to recognize the code) "In bedroom closet. Three across. Two down."  This referred to her shoe rack, which had a series of five cubbyholes across and three down.  Inside the indicated cubbyhole was the package of funky socks I'd bought for her, being guarded by a mini sock monkey, the evil mastermind.  Plus the end of the story.

Maurice Blanche poked his nose into the shoe rack, third cubby over, second cubby down. He recoiled swiftly as a tiny sock paw swiped at his nose. Quickly, he made a paw swipe of his own, caught the little sock monkey with his claw, and pulled him to the floor. Then he stepped back and watched as the monkey leapt to his feet and began to climb back up the shoe rack. Blanche swiped at him again, and batted him back and forth between his paws. He sat back for a second time and watched as the monkey staggered in a circle, waving his arms and tail around. Gradually the monkey regained equilibrium and, eyeing Blanche, he made a dash for the bedroom. Blanche pounced on him with both paws, grabbed him up in his mouth, and trotted smartly into his office. He leapt up onto the bookshelf, and deposited the monkey in the green vase. Its slippery sides would keep the fiend put until Blanche could get him to the proper authorities.

He went back to the closet and looked in the shoe rack again, fishing out a package with his paw. He tore it open, and inside he found the materiel that the monkey had been sock-piling, ready to make into his own sock monkey army. He chewed at the limp tubes several times to make sure that they weren't in danger of coming to life, and then he brought them into his office as well, to serve as evidence.

Blanche had just begun to write up his report when a movement outside the front door caught his eye. He looked up sharply, and saw the silhouette of Olive through the curtain that hung over the glass door. Blanche felt a softening towards her as he realized that she had told him the truth all along. He had taken a risk by trusting her, and she had not let him down.

He moved quickly to the door and scratched at it. When it opened, he stepped back to let her enter. They eyed each other for a moment, and then Olive stepped forward and bumped her forehead gently against his.

“Thank you for setting me free,” she said. Her eyes flicked to the green vase and then away quickly.

“Thank you,” he answered, “for your bravery and ingenuity. It was your clues that led me to the culprit, and now he's safely contained.” He paused briefly and then continued in a sober tone, “I know that you've had a somewhat checkered past, but...would you consider perhaps taking up a position with me, to assist in bringing down other criminals?”

The tip of Olive's tail twitched slightly back and forth, but she sighed and said, “You're too kind. But actually, I've already decided to leave town. Go somewhere nobody knows me, where I can start again with a clean reputation. Maybe somewhere warm, where there are no socks, so that I won't be tempted. Because I've sworn to myself: no more. I will never steal another sock!”

Blanche smiled kindly at her. “Ah well. My loss. I wish you all the best.”

He saw her out and, poking his head behind the curtain, watched through the glass as she glided smoothly down the steps and away. He breathed out heavily, and turned back to his work. Then he reconsidered, deciding to have a little “bat the ball around the track” first. He approached the track, and did a double take. His little white ball was missing. He looked at the empty track, then his mouth fell open a little and he turned to look at the door through which Olive had left.

“Never steal another sock,” he muttered, dryly. And he plumped himself down to deal with his paperwork.

Copyright © Andrea Blumberg 2016