The scent of fresh-baked bread filled the cozy interior of the Sweet Tooth Bakery, a small, beloved institution in the heart of the sleepy town of Millfield. The sunbeams streaming through the large window danced across the polished wooden counter, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. "Did you hear about the Wilsons' cat?" "Oh, you mean the one that belonged to that eccentric Mrs. Ames?" "One and the same." "The grey fluffy Persian? She was a handful, that one. What happened to it?" "Went missing... again." "Aha. If memory serves, isn't this the fifth time this month?" "It is. You'd think she'd consider microchipping the poor thing or something." "Or maybe just really invest in a better quality of cat food, if you know what I mean. That cat always looked half-starved." "Ha, stage presence, my friend. That's what it's got in spades." "And several measly helpings." "Right? Anyway, the thing is..." "They found it." "Oh?" "Near the old abandoned mill on Springfield Road." "And?" "It was dead." "Oh, how sad." "Sad isn't the half of it. There was blood everywhere." "Well, maybe the poor cat fell and fell." "Not just its own." "What are you saying? What was it doing out there?" "Can't tell you. But there's something strange going on in this town, that's for certain." "Yeah, and I'll bet you a cruise on the Danube it's more than just cats that have met their ends in less than pleasant circumstances." "Well, whatever it is, I just pray our darling Chief Lynch can crack the case. She's been working overtime and stuffing on cookies from here for weeks. It's a wonder she doesn't have RDs." "Hah! I'm sure it's an open and shut case: cats the cat all the clues. Always were the craftiest creatures, those felines." "Oh, Wilson, I've got to have a stern talk with you about your dad jokes..."