Detective John G. Abergail was on break from his life-saving career. He was just about to rest on his newly furnished hammock when he got a call from his cousin, Laura Plimott.
"John, I know you are on break, and this may be kind of silly, but no one else will listen." Laura sped through her words.
"Laura, pause. What's going on?"
"My son lost his mittens and he really wants to find them."
Detective Abergail shook his head. "What's so special about them?"
"They were his father's." Laura's husband passed away years before, and he'd left his childhood mittens to their son, Chris. Detective Abergail sighed, scratched his forehead, and drove to Laura's house.
"Okay, Chris. I want you to tell me what happened." Chris, the 8 year old boy, whined and ran to his mom. "Chris, honey, tell your uncle John what happened." Chris nodded and skipped back to John.
"I got off the bus and went inside the school like every other day. I walked inside the classroom and up to my cubby. I took off my jacket, hat, and scarf and put it in the cubby. Then, I took my mittens off and placed them on top of my hat. At the end of the school day, I grabbed my jacket, scarf, and hat, forgetting that I put my mittens in there. Then, I went on the bus and remembered my mittens. I had to wait until the next day to look for them. So, today, I went inside the classroom and looked around my cubby. At the end of the day, the teacher let me look at the lost-and-found center. They weren't there. Do you know what happened to my gloves?"
Detective Abergail smiled. "I have a good feeling about where they are." He stood up, walked over to Laura, and laughed.
"Where does your son put his outerwear?"
Where were Chris's mittens and how did Detective Abergail know?
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