Buffy was finding it quite hard to walk very normally. How did you do that? Should the legs be straight or a little bent? Should she look up at the sky in an innocent sort of way? Or might that make her look guilty instead?
The first creatures she met were two woodhens out pecking seeds. Woodhens were always difficult to cross-examine.
“How are things here then?” said Buffy. “Is all well in the forest, and is everyone being nice?”
“Tired of teasing… No rain for ages… But look, a seed… Two tomatoes were crossing the street… And a feather this morning… But then she cried and… Oh, a seed… Oh dear, crying… What was the question? … Tired of…”
The woodhens clucked about everything in the whole world at once. Their answers were like tufts of wool. Wisps that didn’t fit together. A little on the weather, a little about food, half a joke, and a scrap of an answer to a question. Even so, the hens understood each other perfectly and they cackled in all the right places.
But the hens were also being badgered by someone. That much Buffy had understood. And they were sad, at least when they remembered that they were.
But who was bullying them?
Buffy gave up for now. She saluted and went on walking in a very normal manner. Should the arms swing back and forth? A little or a lot? She couldn’t remember.
The sun was shining. Butterflies fluttered and bees buzzed around the flowers. The creek murmured.
A wonderful day even though so many animals were upset…
Now she caught sight of the rabbit who had fled from them that morning. Buffy hid behind an ox-eye daisy.
I’ll sneak up through the grass so he doesn’t see me, she thought. I really want to talk to that rabbit.
She tiptoed over to another daisy, flattened herself behind it, and waited a moment.
And then she took seven quick steps over to a dandelion and hid behind that. The rabbit hadn’t noticed a thing. Ha-ha! She sneaked through the last bit of grass and then she was there. She stood up right behind him.
“Hello!” she said.
“Help!” The rabbit jumped and shrieked. “No, I don’t want to talk to the police. That will only make it worse.”
Buffy sat down beside him. She patted him a little on his soft, fluffy coat, which smelled of wool, carrots, and torn grass.
“I’ve brought you something,” she said.
She held out a little carrot cake.
“A carrot cake for me?” said the rabbit, brightening.
“Yes, it’s actually an evening cake,” said Buffy. “We have morning cakes, afternoon cakes, and evening cakes. We police have to keep track of what time it is.”
The rabbit started to nibble the cake.
“Thank you very much,” he said between mouthfuls. “I’m glad to know you’re thinking of me. Otherwise it’s not much fun getting up in the mornings any more. You know you’re going to be bullied. And I’m no mouse! Rabbits aren’t meant to be brave and fight. Rabbits are meant to bound away very fast. We should be able to be the way we are! As soon as I see that thing come flying I get a stomach ache. Always tormented! And that rotter has been spying on me. Maybe it was a silly thing I did. But that scoundrel said he was going to tell everybody…”
The cake was finished, and the rabbit finished his story at the same time.
“I won’t tell the police,” said the rabbit firmly. “It will only make it worse!”
Cakes are very handy in a cross-examination, Buffy decided.
She gave a salute and went on her way. The suspect was a flying scoundrel and a bully. One who had found out embarrassing things about the rabbit and threatened to tell everyone.
Things were starting to become clear. But who could it be? The scoundrel would surely have to go to prison…
Wait a minute, Buffy thought. When she had become Police Assistant and moved into the police station, they had needed a bigger bedroom. Gordon didn’t like punishment and prisons. He thought it was better if the two police friends slept in the prison.
The police station didn’t have a prison any more. Ah well, they were sure to come up with a good solution.
Buffy carried on walking in a normal manner. Was it usual to take long steps when you walked completely normally? It was strange how hard it was to copy what you did when you were being normal.
She stepped through the forest and up a small hill, where she came upon a tiny baby mouse, who stood picking its nose. The baby wore muddy clothes and had been digging with its hands. It was also black around the nose.
“I’ve wet my pants, too,” said the baby, sniffling.
“What?”
“Have you wet your pants, too?” asked the baby.
“No, I have not wet my pants. Hmpf,” said Buffy.
“I’m just walking along being completely normal.”
I’m going to have to stop thinking about how I walk, Buffy thought.
“Who is it doing all this bullying in the woods?” Buffy asked, taking the other cake from her backpack.
The young mouse, who had been digging and working all day, was very hungry and munched happily on the carrot cake.
“Who is it?” asked Buffy.
“Bagpie.”
“Who?”
“Bagpie!”
“What?”
“Bagpie!!! Flies. Long slack flail.”
Long black tail? Magpie? Aha. Buffy thanked the baby mouse and headed off to the police station. It was beginning to get dark. Buffy walked quickly. Not normally, just walking.
When she stepped into the police station she could hear terrible snoring.