Miss Cocks AND THE littlest fugitive

In this exclusive Petticoat Police short story, Constable Kate Cocks employs an unusual tactic to solve an emotional Christmas mystery.

- LAINIE ANDERSON

As South Australia’s first policewoman, Miss Cocks prided herself on being ready for anything: Clairvoyants preying on the grieving mothers of soldiers fallen in France; drunk husbands abusing embattled wives; mothers fretting over frisky daughters.

She wasn’t, however, prepared for her junior constable to arrive at work with a British Bulldog puppy.

“Let me introduce Asquith,” Ethel Bromley declared with a flourish, placing the tan puppy on the floor, “our new Women’s Police Branch mascot!”

“Asquith appears to have a leak,” Miss Cocks said, gesturing to a wet patch on the floorboards. “And a taste for your decorations.” Asquith was now chewing a branch of Ethel’s Christmas tree, fashioned from wattle branches and Red Cross greeting cards.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Ethel said, scooping up the puppy. “Mother gave him to me - she thinks he’s the perfect antidote to the sadness of 1917.”

“Yes,” Miss Cocks said drily.

“I assumed your parents had something to do with it.”

Asquith emitted a high-pitched yap. “Oh, not this again!” groaned Ethel.

“I swear he yelped all night!”

“The thunder, no doubt,” Miss Cocks said. The air was still heavy with it; the tiny one-room office hot and humid. “Ethel, how on earth are you going to look after a puppy when you’re working 60-hour weeks?” She tucked a greying curl into her bun before holding out a hand. “Give him to me. Let’s see if I can’t instil some discipline.”

The pup was dropped into Miss Cocks’ lap, and for a moment Asquith and the 42-year-old, strictly Methodist spinster regarded one another. The dog blinked first. Then he snuffled, curled into a ball and fell deeply asleep.

“He likes you!” declared Ethel.

“Don’t suppose I can interest you in a purebred British Bulldog?”