The next morning, Mabel was under the kitchen table, which was the best place in the whole house for listening, on account of the tablecloth reaching almost to the floor. "I don't know what's going on over there," her mom was saying, pouring coffee, "but there's a body of water going in behind that fence, mark my words."
Mabel's knees went cold against the tile. A body. "He's going to give himself a heart attack, digging at his age," her dad added, buttering toast like it was nothing, like he hadn't just said the scariest sentence Mabel had ever heard a grown-up say at breakfast.
Mabel crawled out backward, bonked her head on a chair leg, and didn't even cry about it. She had a case now. A real one. Detective Biscuit never got a case this good, not even in the Christmas special.