My name is Minotaur, Joe Minotaur. I’m a cop. I walk the comic strip beat looking for crimes against toons and their creators. Most cops carry a gun, I carry a net, a Dryadnet. (DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM!)

Sgt. Cliff Hanger and I have been working on a missing persons case involving both humans and fey creatures. Recently, we started getting mysterious notes. We collected these and tried to put them in order.

“What was the first one we received?” I ask. “Do we know what it means?”

“Doe.” Says Sgt. Hanger. He looks up the word in his New Webster’s Dictionary. “A Deer. A female Deer.”

“Next is: Rae; A drop of golden sun.” This is according to my Oxford Old English Dictionary. “What’s next?”

“Me: A name I call myself.” Says Cliff. “You have the next one, Sir”

“Fa’: Short form of “far”. A long, long way to run.” I say.

“Sew: A needle pulling thread.” Cliff says. “What note follows sew?”

“La,” I say, “but I can’t find any definition for it. Then we have…”

“Tea: A drink with jam and bread.” Says Cliff. “And that will bring us back to…”

“Doe.”

“Doe?”

“Doe.”

“Doe?”

(DOE-E, DOE DOE-DOE. DOE-E, DOE DOE-DOE DOE!!)

My name is Minotaur, Joe Minotaur. I’m a cop. I walk the comic strip beat looking for crimes against toons and their creators. Most cops carry a gun, I carry a net, a Dryadnet. (DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM!)

Sgt. Cliff Hanger and I were going over the file of the most recent missing persons case. Cliff was thumbing through the pages as well as his own notes.

“Looks like we have enough material here for a short story, Detective.” He says.

“Sounds like a novel idea, Sergeant.” I say. “If we publish the details, we may get enough leads that we can paste it on someone.”

“I don’t know, Detective.” Cliff says, “Do you think people would even be marginally interested in a case like this? It’s hardly a page turner.”

“Not to worry, Sergeant.” I say. “If just one person shows up, we can bend their ear for details. They may prove to be a font of information.”

“Well,” Cliff wonders, “I do know of one person who might be interested. She is always reading those dime novels about detectives and crimes.”

“Who is that?” I ask.

“Ariel Sans Serif.” He says. “She’s not my type, but you can find her reading almost any novella.”

“A bookworm?” I ask.

“An editor.” He answers. “She works for a local printshop. They handle small jobs and restorations.”

“Do you think she could solve this whodunnit?” I ask.

“No, but she could proofread it for any mistakes.” He says.

“If we can condense this down to an easier to read format, it might be worth it.” I say, “I hate to say this but we’re in a real bind over this case. The press has been nosing around as if we have something to cover up. Cliff, I want you to take this file and your notes to this printshop and tell them to BOOK IT!”

(DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM. DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM DAHH!!)

My name is Minotaur, Joe Minotaur. I’m a cop. I walk the Comic Strip beat looking for crimes against toons and their creators. Some cops carry a gun, I carry a net, a Dryadnet. (DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM.)

I’ve been working on a missing persons case with Sgt. Cliff Hanger for some time now and I’ve gottten to know him pretty well. He’s a good man, but ever since his dental checkup, he’s been acting more nervous every time I mention Dianne or Jessica.

“What’s wrong with you, Cliff?” I ask. “Up ‘til now, your performance has been golden. If it gets any worse, you could tarnish your reputation.”

“I’m sorry, Detective Minotaur.” he says. “I just wish I could put my finger on it.”

“Dianne says that Jessica is a good listener.” I suggest. “You should give her a ring.”

“A what?” he asks.

“Call her.” I say. “You know, to set a date?”

“Set a date!?” Shocked, he stumbles back to the wall of my office.

“Yes.” I say. “For you next appointment. That will give you an excuse to pop the question.”

“P-pop the qu-question!?” He shrieks in full panic. His eyes are wide and his face has turned pale.

“Calm down, Sergeant!” I demand. “Be civil! Ceremony…”

“CIVIL CEREMONY!!”

“Sergeant! Snap out of it!” I shout. “And here I thought you were the best man…”

“BEST MAN!!!”

“Cliff! You are a policeman! Act like one!” By this time I was losing my temper. “Cliff, you could make detective some day! In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been groom…”

“GROOM!!!” With wild eyed hysteria, Cliff bolts from the room.

I pick up the phone and make a call. “Jessica? This is Joe Minotaur. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like you’ll have to postpone. For some reason, Cliff is a bundle of nerves. He’s got the jitters real bad. You may have to call it off, for now.”

“Okay, Joe.” says Jessica, “How’s next Thursday at 1:30?”

“Sounds good.” I say. “Don’t worry Jessica. I’ll get him there on time.”

(DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM. DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM DA-AHH!!)

My name is Minotaur, Joe Minotaur. I’m a cop. I walk the Comic Strip beat looking for crimes against toons and their creators. Some cops carry a gun, I carry a net, a Dryadnet. (DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM.)

I’ve been working on a missing persons case for some time now and I’ve run out of ideas. I needed someone to talk to. Someone who could take another look at the facts and see what I’ve been missing. It had to be someone smart. The smartest person I know. Only one person fit that description, Dr. Donna Lee Quixote. This woman had more degrees than the boiling point of water. Her IQ is measured in four digits. She writes the questions for the MENSA tests. In other words, she was pretty clever. Dr. Quixote could have worked anywhere, but chose to spend her time here at the Narnia Police Department’s crime lab. The crime lab has very tight security. Getting in to see her would not be easy. I ring the bell at the door.

“Name?” a computer voice asks.

“Minotaur, Detective Joe Minotaur.” I answer.

“Identification, please.” it says and a blinking arrow points to a slot in the door.

I slip my police identity card into the ATM like slot. The card soon returns and the door opens. I put the card back in my wallet and notice that I’m running low on cash. I’ll have to stop at the bank on the way home. Inside the door is one of the doctor’s assistants. As brilliant as Dr. Quixote was, her assistant, Sancho Rocinante was not. The man was more or less manual labor for the doctor. A functioning idiot savant, he could barely speak. His only field of expertise was in the use of numbers. You could give him a random number in the billions and he would give you the nearest prime number. Solving complex equations was like breathing to this man.

“This-s w-way.” he mumbled and guided me in to see the doctor. The lab also served as storage for evidence that needed to be preserved for future testing. These side storage rooms had heavy doors and keypads. Computers and testing equipment filled the main lab. At a table, monitoring a test of some kind, was the doctor. With an unsteady hand, Sancho asked me to wait. We both paused until the doctor set down her notepad. Sancho spoke up, “Dr. L-lee.” The doctor turned to us.

“Detective Minotaur.” she said and took off her plastic safety glasses. “Nice to see you again.” Her raven black hair was tightly controlled by a hair net. Not a single strand was out of place. Tall and slender, she was in stark contrast to short and squat Sancho. She looked at her assistant as if she was about to give a strict order, but she spoke in a normal, steady voice, “Sancho, go to your seat and sit down. I will call you when I need you.”

“Y-yes, Doc-tor.” The man walked over to a well-worn wooden chair and sat down.

“Dr. Quixote,” I say, “I hope you can give me a little insight in a case that I’m working on.”

“You don’t have to be so formal, Joe.” she says and adds, “You can call me, Lee and leave off the ‘Doctor’.”

“Sure, but, why ‘Lee’, Quixote?” I ask.

For some reason, she tenses up before answering, “I’ll let that one pass, Joe Monitor. Ever hear of ‘Don Quixote’? If I go by ‘Donna’, people might confuse me with some fictional character. Although being confused with some cartoon character is even worse.”

“Cartoon character?” I ask.

“You just said it, Joe.” she points out. “ ‘Why ‘Lee’, Quixote?’, ‘Wile E. Coyote’?”

Embarrassed beyond all rational thought, I say, “Just forget I was here.”

(DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM. DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM DA-AHH!!)

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