Grandpa Bernard began searching during toast.
At first, nobody worried.
Grandpa often searched during toast.
Sometimes for butter.
Sometimes for wisdom.
Once for Tuesday.
But this time he looked serious.
He lifted the napkins.
Opened the sugar bowl.
Checked behind the jam.
Then he leaned close to a boiled egg and whispered, “You may speak freely.”
The children immediately joined in.
Grandpa’s emergencies were rarely clear, but they were usually worth attending.
The youngest child searched under the table.
The oldest child began a list.
The dog sniffed the chair legs with professional concern.
The cat sat on the evidence box, which made the evidence unavailable but official.
“What are we looking for?” asked the youngest child.
Grandpa paused.
“That,” he said, “is currently classified.”
Everyone searched harder.
Classified things were always more interesting.
A spoon was questioned.
It gave no statement.
The toast rack was moved to the center of the table for “further observation.”
One blueberry was placed under suspicion because it had rolled away during breakfast.
Grandpa opened the teapot lid.
Grandma looked up.
“Bernard.”
Grandpa froze.
“Why,” Grandma asked, spreading jam very calmly, “have you been interrogating breakfast for twenty minutes?”
The kitchen became still.
Even the blueberry stopped rolling.
Grandpa lowered his voice.
“I am looking for my glasses.”
There was a pause.
Then everyone slowly pointed at Grandpa’s face.
Grandpa touched his nose.
His glasses looked back at him.
The dog wagged.
The cat closed her eyes, disappointed in the species.
Grandpa opened the case notebook and wrote:
Case 247: Object found while actively participating in search.
Grandma smiled.
“It was on your face.”
Grandpa nodded.
“Exactly. The last place suspicion would dare look.”
He added one final note:
Breakfast remains under investigation.
Livora Gracely 
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