A Whisker in the Dark

The script

• Inspector Claws: A grizzled, middle-aged bipedal grey tabby cat with piercing amber eyes, a notched left ear, and sharp whiskers. He wears a rumpled beige trench coat with an upturned collar, a tilted dark felt fedora, and a loose crimson necktie over a white dress shirt. A faint scar cuts across his muzzle.
• Barnaby: A hulking, middle-aged English bulldog with heavy jowls, droopy bloodshot brown eyes, and brindle-and-white patched fur. He wears a grease-stained white chef coat with rolled-up sleeves, a tall white toque tilted sideways, and a blue-checkered neckerchief tied loosely around his thick neck.
• The Fish Tank: A heavy spherical vintage glass bowl resting on a tarnished brass pedestal. Inside sits a miniature sunken galleon ornament, vibrant green plastic seaweed, a single floating white feather, and crystal-clear water with no fish in sight.

1. Panel 1

   A dim, rain-streaked restaurant kitchen bathed in Venetian blind shadows. Inspector Claws stands beside The Fish Tank, paw poised thoughtfully near his muzzle.

   The city was wet, cold, and missing one prize bluefin trout.

   Inspector Claws (whispers): Talk to me, bowl. Who took the swimmer?

2. Panel 2

   Inspector Claws leans in closely, studying a wet white feather resting on the rim of The Fish Tank.

   Inspector Claws (thinks): No signs of struggle. Just a calling card left behind.

3. Panel 3

   Barnaby stands under a swinging overhead bulb, sweating nervously while clutching a massive wooden rolling pin to his chest.

   Barnaby: I stepped out for five minutes, Inspector! Just five!

   Inspector Claws: Five minutes is an eternity in this town, Barnaby.

4. Panel 4

   Inspector Claws narrows his eyes, focusing sharply on the open kitchen skylight above where a lone seagull feather drifts downward.

   Inspector Claws (thinks): Not a four-legged job. An airborne heist.