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There’s a new threat in Amity -- someone, or something , has been stealing flowers and leaving the flowerbeds a mess of dirt and roots, upsetting no small amount of proprietors, and Martin’s been tasked with finding out who, or what, the culprit is. It’s a far cry from the worst that’s ever happened on the island, but it’s still problematic (as far as those who own flowerbeds are concerned).
“Hey, have you seen my red checkered shirt?” Martin asks as he pulls on his white undershirt.
When he can’t find the shirt in question and no answer is forthcoming, he grabs the next best thing, tugs it on, and heads downstairs. It’s odd how many of his shirts, like the flowers, have gone missing over the past few weeks.
“I wonder if whoever’s been stealing the flowers has been pilfering my shirts,” he mutters. It might be worth looking into.
“Huh?” Matt looks up from the newspaper he’s spread out on the kitchen table.
Martin blinks at the other man.
“That’s one mystery solved,” he says, smiling at the look of confusion on Matt’s face.
Matt looks good in the red checkered shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and collar open.
“You’ve caught a break in the plucky perennial pilferer case?” Matt asks.
“No, but I’ve caught a saucy shirt-smuggler,” Martin says. “It looks good on you.”
Matt blushes.
“I guess I don’t need to put out an APB on my blue jersey or cable knit sweater that I can’t find,” he teases.
“Uh--”
“Looks like I’ve caught the thrifty thief red-handed,” Martin says, leaning over Matt.
Matt swallows. “What’re you going to do about it, Chief?”
“Oh, a little of this,” Martin says, nuzzling Matt’s neck. “And a little of that.” He kisses Matt senseless.
The posy purloiner can wait.