Image Description: A warm, vintage-style illustration in a semi-realistic tone. In a softly lit kitchen, Lady Biscotti stands confidently to the left, wearing a retro skirt suit. Her platinum blonde hair is styled in soft, Farrah Fawcett waves, and she wears biscuit-shaped earrings. A camera hangs from a shoulder strap at her side, ready for use. Facing her across the room is Sir Dunkalot — dark blonde, a bit scruffy, dressed in a t-shirt with an open denim shirt worn like a jacket. He looks caught mid-step, holding a steaming mug in one hand and a ginger nut biscuit in the other. In the centre of the scene is Biggie, a large, pale Labrador–Retriever. He has just caught a ginger nut in mid-air and is placing it delicately on a napkin beside Lady Biscotti. The three characters are facing each other in a tense yet playful moment, capturing the drama of a biscuit-based standoff.
PART TWO – ASSuspicious Snack
Back in the kitchen, the tension was rising like sponge in an overheated oven. Lady Biscotti paced thoughtfully, her heels clicking out a rhythm of suspicion. “The trail points to Indy… but it doesn’t add up. That dog’s got better biscuit manners than most humans.”
A low, buttery voice drifted from behind the bread bin. “You’re on the right scent, darling.”
Lady Biscotti turned sharply, camera ready — always prepared to capture a clue.
Out stepped Baroness Shortbread — retired crime-cracker with a sugar-dusted past, a heart like half-set caramel, and a flair for the theatrical. She wore a biscuit tin lid as a cape and a monocle made from the ring of a custard cream.
“You look surprised,” the Baroness purred. “You vanished during the Custard Cream Collapse of ’09,” Lady Biscotti whispered. “Went undercover. Deep undercover. For biscuits. Trouble was… when the biscuit vault caved in, I got buried. Took three days and a teaspoon to dig my way out.”
Baroness Shortbread gave a wink, then glanced toward the doorway, where Indy had quietly appeared, his ears pricked and posture perfect. “That ginger pup? Wouldn’t take so much as a Crumbette without asking. You want the real crook? Follow the mug.”
Lady Biscotti frowned. “Mug?” “The tea mug, dear. Still warm. Someone’s been dunking… and they didn’t clean their crumbs.”
Just then, the kitchen light flicked on with an ominous click. Biggie raised his head and gave a quiet, dignified bark — the kind that says brace yourself.
There, caught mid-slink to the fridge, stood Sir Dunkalot. Mug in one hand. Ginger nut number nine in the other. Crumbs clung to his shirt like shame.
Lady Biscotti’s voice dropped an octave. “Put. The ginger nut. Down.”
Sir Dunkalot blinked, looking from the biscuit to the fridge. “I was getting cheese,” he said. “Ginger nuts and cheddar… don’t judge me.”
She took a slow step forward. “Did you know poor Indy was nearly blamed for this biscuit burglary?”
Sir Dunkalot froze, mid-dunk. “What? I was… snackish! I didn’t know anyone thought it was Indy!”
“You’re being charged with: Excessive biscuit enthusiasm. Reckless ginger nutting. Deliberate packet abandonment. And — unintentionally — casting doubt on a perfectly innocent dog!”
Biggie huffed. The trail of crumbs had been appalling. Rookie mistake.
Lady Biscotti raised a single eyebrow — sharp enough to slice a Viennese whirl — and reached into her handbag to draw her most devastating tool: A stale ginger nut.
Not just any old snack — this was her signature interrogation move. She never left home without one.
“Some detectives carry pepper spray,” she said coolly. “I carry stale ginger nuts.” With impeccable aim, she lobbed it straight at Sir Dunkalot’s feet.
Sir Dunkalot gasped. Slipped. Flailed.
The ginger nut flew through the air in slow motion — a tragic arc of guilt.
Biggie — majestic, poised, legendary — rose in one smooth motion. Snap! He caught it mid-air, not a crumb dropped. He placed it delicately on a napkin beside Lady Biscotti and resumed his post like nothing had happened.
Silence.
Lady Biscotti brushed imaginary flour from her skirt. Her biscuit earrings swayed with quiet victory.
“Biggie, love… case status?” Biggie gave one elegant “woof.” “Excellent,” she said. “Crumbs confirmed.”
To be continued
Blind Man Makes 