Ellie Groff
The Detective

Lillian was frustrated.

For all she knew, she was born to be a detective. Growing up, she had always noticed things

nobody else would - like how footprints showed how fast someone was moving, or how a liar

would tend to fidget their hands as they spoke. She could find the answer to any riddle or puzzle

and hear the guilt in anyone’s voice, and at just the age of twelve, three years ago, she had

solved not just one, but two mysteries at her school’s bake sale - catching the two kids who had

stolen the missing lemon bars and peach cobbler. Just a year ago, she had again put her skills

to use when she discovered, after investigation, which one of her classmates stole another’s

bracelet.

However, there was one thing Lillian could never figure out: why could she not convince anyone

of her talent? Her classmates and teachers never acknowledged it - her gender, apparently, was

proof that she lied about her gift. All her parents had ever said when she told them, proudly, that

she wanted to be a detective was that she’d “change her mind later” and that she’d eventually

want to be a “good, caring wife and mother”. But Lillian didn’t want to give up her dream; in fact,

she didn’t even want to ever have a husband or child. But no matter how many times she said

this, no matter how many times she told the world of her dream, no matter how many times she

proved that she was capable, still, nobody would believe her.

Hodge sat oddly on Lillian’s lap, purring loudly as the girl idly brushed her hand down his back.

“Honey!” her mother called from the kitchen. “Your dad and I will be leaving, now.”

“Alright, mum!” Lillian shouted back, not even taking her eyes off the television.

Her mother walked over to her, her heels clopping on the wooden floor. Pulling Hodge off her

daughter, she sighed as the cat made a disgruntled squawk. “I told you to keep that cat off of

you! Its claws will rip your blouse, for sure. And don’t slouch!” She lightly hit the girl on her

shoulder. Lillian gave her mother a short glare, before straightening up to give Hodge an

apologetic pat on the head.

“Make sure to feed Hodge and Lily; Towser’s already got his dinner. We’ll be back around

eleven. Be a good girl.”

“I will!” she called back.

Her dad came out of the bedroom to join his wife, and, together, they moved to the door.

“Love you, honey!” her father called, as the two headed outside.

“Love you too, dad!”

Her mother poked her head through the door. “And don’t be watching any of those crime shows!

They’re a bad influence on young women like you.”

Lillian snorted.

“Lucy! Get on out of there!”

Laughter erupted out of the television, and Lillian chuckled. Her parents never let her watch the

detective series she loved, but they did allow her to watch I Love Lucy. There was no mystery in

it at all, but still, Lillian enjoyed it - she quite liked to see such an upbeat, mischievous woman

defying the way women were “supposed” to act. As the show came to a close, she gently

moved Hodge off of her lap, stretched, and, humming a tune, headed to the kitchen. Opening a

can of cat foot - oyster flavored, she noted - she spooned a half each into two bowls. Instantly,

Hodge and Lily were at her feet, miaowing for their dinner.

“You goofs,” she smiled fondly, “it’s always food to get you happy, isn’t it?”

The two cats miaowed again, and she set the dishes on the floor, and then went to go make

herself a sandwich. Getting the turkey out of the refrigerator, she beckoned Towser to her side -

he happily came running up, tail wagging gaily - she tossed a piece to him. It disappeared

midair, and was completely gone in two short gulps.

“Good boy!” she praised, watching his face break out into a beaming smile, tongue lolled

out to one side, “Now, don’t tell mum, won’t you?”

Finishing her sandwich, Lillian set it down on the table and headed to her room to get a book.

Dr. Sam: Johnson, Detector was one of the only mystery novels her parents allowed her to have

(“It was written by a woman, it ought to be womanly enough for me to handle!” she had argued),

and she had reread it so many times that she had lost count. The adventures of Johnson and

Boswell never failed to excite her, with the duo solving real crimes and finding the answers to

real mysteries. A puzzle like theirs she longed to have - something for her to ruminate over, to

investigate, to have that moment of elation when she solved the case. Flipping through the

pages slowly, she let a soft smile cross her face, before heading back towards the living room,

book in hand. Settling down on the couch, she reached for her sandwich, before realizing

something.

The bread on the top of her sandwich was toppled over on the floor, and the turkey was gone.

Glancing around the room, at Towser, Lily, and Hodge, she realized something else.

Slowly, Lillian began to grin.