Bracken, the Swiss Mountain Dog, from A Whale of a Crime, A Yorkshire Coast mystery, is visiting Ascroft, eh? today to tell us about the trouble with human sleuths.

Welcome, Bracken. I’ll turn the floor over to you –

Let me tell you something upfront.

Humans are very clever… until they’re not.

Take my human, Ryan Kennedy, for example. He’s bright enough. Ran a dog walking business in London. Wrote poetry once upon a time, though he’s too embarrassed to admit it. Can make a proper brew, which I’ve learned is apparently the height of civilisation around here in Flamborough. But when it comes to solving mysteries? Well. That’s where I come in.

You see, the trouble with human sleuths is that they forget to use their noses.

And I mean that both literally and metaphorically.

They Don’t Smell What’s Obvious

Let’s start with the basics. When someone lies, their scent changes. Their body tightens up, their sweat smells different. You know what a human does? They listen to the words.

Mistake number one.

In A Whale of a Crime, if a certain someone said they had “just stumbled across the cliffs by accident” while looking like they’d never set foot on seaweed before, Ryan might take it at face value. I, on the other paw, would catch the tang of fear, guilt, and just a whiff of brandy.

Which is to say—guilty. And sloppy.

But does Ryan listen to me growling low and steady?

No. He tells me to “be nice.”

Be nice?

I’m not here to be nice. I’m here to make sure no one else ends up face-down in a tide pool, thank you very much.

They Miss What’s Right in Front of Them

Humans look with their eyes, but they don’t see. Not like we do.

They miss the muddy boot prints beside the flowerbed. The thread of wool stuck to a thorn. The fact that the normally chatty postman didn’t wave that morning.

I notice those things. I catalogue them. I file them away in that neat little corner of my brain marked “Suspicious Stuff I’ll Probably Have to Save You From Later.”

And yet, when I stare meaningfully at something—say, the drawer that’s been left half open, with the tiniest smear of something red on the handle—do you know what Ryan says?

“Are you hungry again?”

No, Ryan. I’m not hungry. I’m alerting. You’d think after the fourth time I helped him find a hidden clue, he’d have learned the code by now.

They Always Think It’s the Most Obvious Person

Another flaw in human sleuthing? They go for the red herring every time.

The grumpy ex-fisherman who doesn’t say much and once scowled at a town meeting? “Must be him!” say the humans.

The quiet librarian who only ever goes out to walk her cat in a pram? “She’s hiding something!”

Meanwhile, the actual villain is often someone they trust. Someone smiling. Someone who gives me that look. The one where their eyes don’t crinkle when they grin. The one that says, “I’ve got secrets, and I’ll bury them under the rockpool.”

Now, I don’t say this to make Ryan look bad. He’s got heart. He’s got instinct. And he does eventually get there—usually with me herding him toward the truth like a sheepdog in wellies.

But it’s not just Ryan. It’s humans in general. You lot make things harder than they need to be.

They Don’t Know When to Nap

One thing that always baffles me: humans forget to rest.

You cannot solve a murder on zero sleep, four cups of coffee, and a belly full of chips. Believe me, I’ve watched it happen.

When the case heats up, Ryan will pace the living room all night, muttering about motives and alibis. Me? I’m curled up by the fire, gathering my strength. Because when the moment comes—the chase, the confrontation, the clue hidden beneath the floorboards—I need to be ready.

So if you’re a human sleuth reading this: nap more. You’ll be smarter for it.

They Underestimate the Power of a Dog

Here’s the thing that bugs me most.

Humans think I’m just there for companionship.

Sure, I’ll admit it—I love a cuddle. I’ll lean all 50kg of my fluff against you if you’re sad. I’ll wag my tail like mad when you get home from the shops. And yes, I’ve been known to chase the occasional rabbit when no one’s looking.

But I’m more than a pet. I’m a partner. I’m security. I’m the silent half of the detective duo; or trio, in this case.

I’ve sniffed out evidence, tracked a suspicious trail across the cliffs, and even growled down someone holding a pocketful of stolen jewellery. And yet, the most credit I get is: “Bracken was such a good girl today!”

Yes, I was. I always am. But I was also a detective, Ryan. Let’s get the titles right.

The Seaside’s Not Always Peaceful

Life in Flamborough might look calm on the surface—sea views, seagulls, tourists with ice creams. But under the surface? Secrets bubble like crabs in a bucket.

Sometimes the wind carries things you don’t want to hear. Arguments. Regrets. Lies that get tangled in fishing nets.

But I’m always there, trotting beside Ryan, nose to the wind and eyes sharp.

I’ve been by his side through grief. Through the loss of Jason. Through rebuilding his life by the sea. And I’ll be there through every mystery that rolls in with the tide.

Just don’t expect me to wait while you write a poem about it, Ryan.

A Message to Other Canine Colleagues

To the dogs out there reading this—whether you’re guarding bookshops, patrolling bakeries, or keeping an eye on B&B guests—know your worth.

We are the unspoken heroes of cozy mysteries. We sniff out secrets. We calm the anxious. We drag sleuths out of trouble (sometimes literally).

Keep your ears perked. Your paws steady. And your humans humble.

We’ve got work to do.

Final Woof

The trouble with human sleuths isn’t that they’re clueless. It’s that they forget they don’t have to do it alone.

Luckily, they’ve got us.

And in Murder at the Lighthouse, you’d better believe I’ll be back. There’s something fishy going on near the cliffs—and it’s not just the catch of the day.

Until then, stay sharp, stay loyal, and never let them go to the door without you.

Paws and protectively yours,
Bracken 🐾

Thank you for sharing this with us, Bracken, and good luck to you and your author, Mona Marple, with A Whale of a Crime, the first book in the Yorkshire Coast mystery series.

Readers can learn more about Bracken and his author, Mona Marple by visiting the author’s website and her Facebook and Instagram pages as well as her Facebook group.

The book is available online at Amazon

About Mona Marple: Mona Marple writes charming cozy mysteries filled with quirky characters, twisty whodunits, and settings you’ll wish you could visit—especially if you love a bit of seasonal sparkle. Best known for her beloved Candy Cane Hollow series, Mona creates worlds where murder meets mistletoe and sleuthing pairs perfectly with a cup of tea. When she’s not writing, Mona can be found walking her Labradoodle, Coco, plotting her next murder (on the page, of course), or hosting reader parties in her cozy online community.