The Noble Crime-Stoppers of the World's Safest Town

Betty and Beacon live above a pie shop in Rosy Cheek Bay. Their apartment is constantly engulfed with the sweet aroma of pies being baked; cherry pies, apricot pies, plum pies, eggplant pies, apple pies…you get my drift. There’s a lot of dough becoming pie downstairs.

Betty is most at peace when everything is in order. Her most satisfying ordering task to date was alphabetising her spice cupboard, each jar labelled with their level of spice and expiration date too. During the day, she works at a classical instrument store. Betty doesn’t know how to play an instrument, but she has researched them all so meticulously that she can converse with any real musician with ease. Her researching skills are likely what has earned her the Employee of the Month Award for nine consecutive months in a row (it would've been ten if Mallory Mackett hadn't charmed her way into a major flute sale).

Beacon is a firecracker. Her hair is black and short, her eyes are constantly lined with thick eyeliner, and she has a ‘MOM’ tattoo circled with a heart on her right arm. Beacon works as a newborn baby photographer. She is excellent at what she does-although sometimes she can scare the babies with the skull-adorned t-shirts she wears. The heavy metal music she plays in the studio doesn't help.

Betty and Beacon work their day jobs every day and come home every afternoon to their pie-scented house. But on Monday nights at 7pm, they get to work on their favourite project of all.

Betty and Beacon run a club for local crime stoppers. It is called The Protectors. It has a rotating array of members, but there are five regulars who never miss a session. They have been successfully solving petty crime in Rosy Cheek Bay for the past two years.

The usual crew include Shan, a rough around the edges, boysenberry ice-cream loving, pet store employee. If you were to ever meet her, the first topic of conversation would probably revolve around her two pet parrots, Roger and Ronaldo.

V is a skeletal man whose skin always seems to be sporting a tinge of green. Nobody knows what his full name is, and nobody has ever asked. If you were to ever meet him, you would have to strike up the conversation first. But once you got talking, he’d let you know that he works at the ticket box of a theme park, even though he’s terrified by rides. And children. And confectionary.

Phoenix finds their comfort in the constant movement of life. Their career trajectory isn’t always clear; sometimes they work at an animal shelter, sometimes as a ghost tour guide at the old abandoned prison in town, and sometimes selling sandwiches out of a food truck at the Sunday Farmer’s Market. If you ever met them, you’d probably admire their shaved head painted with purple stripes.

Some of the team’s past achievements include catching 15-year-old Bobby and his marching band crew smoking a bong underneath the pier, delivering the town’s two graffiti artists to the police, and the successful retrieval of a raffle hamper that Sally Vincent threw into the local pond to spite her mother.

For the past year, The Protectors have been trying to get their hands on John, an 89-year-old thief extraordinaire. He has been causing quite the ruckus in Rosy Cheek Bay by nicking bottles of booze from the local convenience store. John’s signature move? Smuggling the booze under his tartan jacket. Whenever he's been caught by the store employees he just puts on his 'old-man-show', pretending he was disoriented and couldn’t remember taking the booze.

Every time The Protectors had attempted to catch John, he’d evaded them.

“Maybe we could just hide in the liquor section and catch him in the act?” Shan suggested during one of their Monday night meetings, “You know, ambush style.”

“He’d notice us straight away,” contested Beacon, “He’s one of the smartest criminals in this town. If John falls for that I’d eat a sock.”

“Let’s look at the facts. What do we know about him so far?” Betty began, “We know that he lives on Grenadine Lane with his wife, Annie. We know that the Cuttlefish Convenience Store has tried and failed many times to catch him in the act of stealing the alcohol, and their security cameras have not been upgraded for thirty years. Even if they have caught him on camera, you’d never be able to prove it with the picture quality.”

Whilst she explains the facts, Betty references her extremely organised whiteboard, filled with notes about this particular crime.

“Hi,” V whispers quietly.

Phoenix responds, “What’s up, V?”

V takes a deep breath.

“I noticed something during my surveillance watch the other night.”

The team look confused.

‘What surveillance watch?” Phoenix pressed.

“I took it upon myself to have a little peer through John’s window. I noticed something very peculiar.”

Beacon interrupts, “You know nobody sent you on a surveillance watch, right?”

V continues on, “I peered through his window and noticed many packages wrapped in brown paper laying about on his living room floor. John was on his computer, and seemed to be referencing the packages to a website. Using a combination of my binoculars and magnifying glass, I was able to get a clear image of his screen.”

V pauses for an excruciatingly long moment.

“Go on,” Shan sighs, frustrated.

V glares, then continues, “He is running an eBay page. Selling alcohol.”

The team gasp!

“Not the alcohol he’s been stealing?” Betty exclaims.

“Of course it’s the alcohol he’s stealing, darling,” Beacon squeezes her shoulder, “You always had a sinister suspicion about John. You were right. He’s more cunning than we could ever have thought.”

“Let’s take him DOWN!” Betty howls.

The team get ready to set up a sting.

Phoenix begins typing away furiously at their computer, creating a fake eBay profile.

The profile reads: Morris Diva. Nature, crossword, and wine lover.

“What’s his profile name, V?” Phoenix asks.

“johnlovesdick69,” V giggles.

“What?!” Betty begins having heart palpitations.

“I’m just joking. It’s johnsbrewery,” V whispers.

“Alright, let’s send him a message,” Shan demands, “I’m sick of his destruction!”

Phoenix types away.

Hi johnsbrewery! I’m a fellow brew-lover, and would love to taste your latest drop!

John begins typing back instantly.

“God, instant reply. This guy seriously has no life,” says Beacon, whilst huddled around a computer trying to catch an elderly petty thief.

John responds.

Hello fellow brew-lover. I have many rare drops available, all from the Rosy Cheek Bay area. What’s your poison?

“Quick, Betty. What’s one of the common ones he’s been stealing?” Phoenix urges.

Betty references her whiteboard, “Earl’s Drop!”

Phoenix types.

I noticed you’ve got some Earl’s Drop. That is my favourite. Funnily enough, I live only minutes away from Rosy Bay. Could I come and pick one up tonight?

John doesn’t type back. Phoenix sends another message.

It’s my lovely lady’s birthday tonight, I’d love to surprise her with a bottle.

John responds.

Oh, the romance! Of course. Feel free to collect from 92 Grenadine Lane.

The team squeal with excitement.

“I’ll phone Detective Boyle!” Betty announces.

Beacon beams, “I’ve got a better idea. Citizen’s arrest. We’ll bring him to the station ourselves. It’ll solidify us as a force to be reckoned with in the community.”

The sleuths pile into a car together, and race eagerly towards John’s house. Rosy Cheek Bay is probably the smallest town you will ever come across, so they arrive within about thirty seconds.

Phoenix knocks upon the door.

John opens it. And the arrest begins.

The crime-stopping team race out of the car, and capture John. V handcuffs him (the team are still not sure where he got the handcuffs from), and Shan forces him into the backseat.

Phoenix, Betty, and Beacon peer inside his living room. Boxes full of brown-paper-wrapped-packages are strewn about everywhere. Betty unwraps one. A-ha!

Earl’s Drop. Exclusive to the Cuttlefish Convenience Store.

John’s wife, Annie, hobbles into the room.

“Hello? Who are you?” she asks.

The team ignore her and race from the house, Betty taking one of the boxes of booze with her as evidence.

Squeezed into the backseat (with John in the middle) the team squeal with glee, overjoyed to have finally caught their nemesis.

Thirty seconds pass, and they arrive at the local police station. It’s barely an exaggeration to say that it is the size of a telephone box.

“We’ve got you now John,” Shan whispers into the elderly thief’s ear, “I hope you’re ready for prison, old man!”

Betty runs out of the car and into the station, calling out, “Detective Boyle! Detective Boyle! We’ve got him! We’ve caught the booze thief!”

Detective Boyle, a portly, middle-aged man, gets up from his desk, approaching a frenzied Betty.

“What is it now?”

“We’ve completed a successful citizen’s arrest on Rosy Cheek Bay’s most prolific criminal sir!” Betty can’t get her words out quick enough.

The team pile into the station, John in tow. The policeman spots him.

“Grandpa?” asks Detective Boyle, “What’re you doing here?”