A Lesson From A Cat
Mrs Hagen was very sorry about Linus.
"He gets in everywhere," she said. "I'll wash his paws tonight."
She gave Pim a small bag of biscuits as a thank-you. Pim accepted them with the great dignity of a working detective.
That evening, while Pim was eating one of the biscuits, his mama said:
"How did you know it was a cat?"
Pim thought about it.
"Three things," he said. "First, the footprint was too small for a grown-up but too big for any baby that would have come visiting. Second, the front door was locked, but the kitchen window was open — so whoever it was could climb. Third, the print only showed up once. People walking would have left lots of footprints. A cat walking on its toes would only leave a clear print on the wet bit."
His mama listened.
"And the smudge on the windowsill, and the prints leading away outside, and Linus's paint paws — those proved it."
"You're getting good at this," said his mama.
Pim shrugged, modestly. "Most things are easy if you slow down."
He turned to his notebook and added a note at the bottom of Case 8:
*Lesson: a footprint tells you size, gait, and where someone went. Always look for the trail, not just the print.*
He closed the notebook and finished his biscuit. Linus, in the garden, gave him a long offended look through the fence.
"Sorry, Linus," called Pim, very politely. "It's just my job."
Linus turned his back, the way