the officeBurger Bandit
Chief Williams was leaning over his desk, rubbing his temples with a force that suggested he was trying to physically push a headache back into his skull. When Kyson Hunter and Sisko walked into the office, the Chief didn’t even look up; he just slid a grease-stained folder across the mahogany.
“I need you two at ‘The Golden Griddle’ on 5th,” Williams grumbled, his voice like gravel in a blender. “The owner, Mr. Henderson, claims he’s lost over fifty pounds of prime ground beef in the last three days. He’s calling it ‘The Burger Bandit.’ I’m calling it a waste of precinct time, but Henderson is a donor and a loudmouth. Go sniff it out.”
Kyson picked up the folder. “Missing burgers, Chief? We usually handle things a bit more… high stakes.”
“The stakes are plenty high for Henderson,” Williams snapped, finally looking up. “He’s convinced it’s a rival restaurant trying to sabotage his weekend rush. Just go. And keep the dog away from the fries.”
Sisko let out a soft “woof” that sounded suspiciously like a promise she had no intention of keeping.
The Golden Griddle was a local institution, a chrome-and-neon relic of the fifties that usually smelled like heaven and onions. Today, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Mr. Henderson, a man whose blood pressure seemed to be held in check only by his bowtie, paced the checkered floor.
“It’s an inside job, Officer! It has to be!” Henderson squeaked, waving a spatula. “The walk-in is locked every night, but every morning, a dozen patties are gone. My inventory is a nightmare!”
We’ll take a look around
Kyson nodded patiently. “We’ll take a look around, Mr. Henderson. Sisko, you ready?”
Sisko was more than ready. To a K-9, a restaurant was a sensory overload, a symphony of scents that required intense focus to deconstruct. She began her sweep near the walk-in freezer. She ignored the lingering scent of bacon and the sharp tang of pickles, searching for something that didn’t belong—something fresh, something out of place.
Kyson watched her closely. “What do you have, girl?”
Sisko moved past the grill station, where the head chef was flipping patties with aggressive indifference. She didn’t stop there. She headed straight for the back of the kitchen, toward the damp, steam-filled corner where the industrial dishwashers whirred and clattered.
A young man named Leo was hunched over a sink, his arms submerged in soapy water. He didn’t look up as they approached, but Sisko stopped three feet away, her body tensing into a point. She gave a low, rumbling growl—not an aggressive one, but a ‘pay attention’ signal.
“Leo, is it?” Kyson asked, standing behind the young man.
Just doing the lunch rush
Leo jumped, nearly dropping a ceramic plate. “Yes, sir. Just doing the lunch rush, sir.”
Sisko began to circle the large, plastic bin filled with dirty linens near Leo’s station. She nudged the bottom of the bin with her nose, then looked up at Kyson with an expectant gaze.
“Mind if we check the laundry, Leo?” Kyson asked.
Leo’s face went from pale to a ghostly white. “It’s… it’s just towels, Officer.”
Kyson reached down and shifted the top layer of damp towels. Tucked underneath was a small, insulated cooler bag. When Kyson opened it, the smell of raw, seasoned beef wafted out. Twelve perfectly formed patties were stacked inside, wrapped in wax paper.
The kitchen went silent. Mr. Henderson marched over, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. “Leo! You? I gave you a job when no one else would!”
I wasn’t selling them
Leo slumped against the industrial sink, his shoulders shaking. He didn’t try to run. He didn’t even look at the stolen meat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Henderson. I… I wasn’t selling them.”
Kyson held up a hand to keep Henderson back. “Why, Leo?”
“My sister,” Leo said, looking at the floor. “She lost her job three weeks ago. She has two kids. I’ve been giving them my paycheck, but it’s not enough. They were hungry, and I saw all this food going to waste, or being sold for ten bucks a pop, and I just… I thought I could help them. I’m a coward. I should have asked for help, but I was ashamed.”
The anger seemed to drain out of Henderson, replaced by a stunned, uncomfortable silence. Even Sisko seemed to sense the shift in the room; she moved closer to Leo and rested her chin on his knee, a rare gesture of canine empathy.
Committed a crime
Kyson sighed. “Leo, you still committed a crime. You know that.”
“I know,” Leo said, wiping his eyes with a soapy sleeve. “I regret it. Every time I took one, I felt sick. I just wanted them to eat.”
Kyson looked at Henderson. “How do you want to handle this, Pete?”
Henderson looked at the cooler bag, then at the trembling young man who had worked for him for six months without a single complaint. He looked at Sisko, who was still offering Leo a comforting presence.
“Put the meat back in the freezer,” Henderson said gruffly, though his voice lacked its earlier bite. “And Leo… get back to work. But after your shift, you and I are going to sit down with my wife. She runs the community food pantry. If you ever steal from me again, I’ll call the Chief myself. But if you’re in trouble, you talk to me. Understand?”
Leo looked up, disbelief etched on his face. “Thank you. Thank you, sir.”
As Kyson and Sisko walked back to the patrol car, Kyson radioed the precinct. “Chief, tell Williams the ‘Burger Bandit’ has been apprehended and reformed. Case closed.”
Sisko jumped into the back seat, looking quite pleased with herself. Kyson looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Good work today, Sisko. You found the meat, but I think you found the heart, too.”
Sisko let out a contented yawn. She didn’t get a burger, but the quiet satisfaction of a job well done—and the promise of a long nap—was enough for now.
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