Detective Milo crouched outside the bakery's back door, staring at the muddy raccoon footprints leading into the alley. The morning sun lit up the scene like a spotlight, glinting off a single… pickle spear.
He picked it up carefully with his pen, sniffing it like a sommelier judging fine wine. "Dill," he murmured. "Crunchy. Untouched. No raccoon alive would abandon a pickle this perfect."
Mrs. Pennyworth peeked nervously from the doorway. "So what does that mean?"
"It means," Milo said, slipping the pickle into an evidence bag, "someone wants us to think a raccoon did this."
As if on cue, a shadow flickered at the end of the alley. Milo bolted forward, trench coat flapping dramatically. "Stop in the name of snack justice!" he bellowed. The shadow zipped around a dumpster.
Milo rounded the corner, heart pounding - and found… nothing. Well, not nothing. A small cardboard box sat against the wall, labeled in messy handwriting:
'FREE BAGELS - TOTALLY NOT A TRAP'
He frowned. "Suspicious labeling. Classic criminal misdirection."
The box rattled suddenly. Milo leapt back, hand on his magnifying glass like a cowboy reaching for his gun. Slowly, he lifted the lid. Inside were three bagels… and a note.
The note read:
> "Nice try, detective. But you'll never catch me. - S"
Milo blinked. "S? Who's S?"
Mrs. Pennyworth, who had crept up behind him, gasped. "Oh no. Not Sandwich Sam."
Milo whipped around. "Who's Sandwich Sam?"
Mrs. Pennyworth whispered, "The most notorious sandwich thief in town. He once stole an entire hoagie truck in broad daylight!"
Milo's eyes gleamed. "Looks like we've got ourselves a rival."
At that exact moment, a faint rustling came from above. Milo looked up just in time to see a loaf of bread fall from a fire escape and smack him squarely on the head. A giggle echoed in the distance.
The chase was officially on.