"WHERE IS HE?!" Hogarth roared, storming down the stairs to the ground floor of the firehouse. Constance and Jefferson looked up from their desks in confusion.
"Where's who, Hogarth?" Constance asked.
"Muncher!" he answered. "Look what he did to my bat!"
Hogarth held up an aluminum baseball bat. A large chunk of the top portion was gone. At the top of what was left were curves that resembled an all too familiar bit mark.
"Look, Hogarth, if Muncher ate your bat, just get a new one," Jefferson said. "It's not like aluminum bats are one of a kind."
"That bat cost me over three hundred and fifty bucks!" Hogarth complained. "And it was a DeMarini, too! It was going to help me score home runs!"
"Since when do you play baseball anyway, Hogarth?" Constance asked.
"I do have a life outside of this job," Hogarth said. "Besides, Mom asked me to join the police department's recreational baseball team. I have one of the best pitching throws she's ever seen."
Constance and Jefferson rolled their eyes, unable to believe what had been said. At that moment, Muncher decided to come out of hiding. Seeing Hogarth, he let out a joyful squeal, flew over to him and waved. Hogarth turned and glared at Muncher, then held up his chewed-up bat.
"Look what you did, you tin-eater!" Hogarth snapped. "You ate my bat!"
Muncher looked at the bat, then shrugged with all six of his arms. Hogarth, on the other hand, was not amused. Anger flashed in his eyes. He winded up with the bat, ready to smack Muncher straight into next week, when the alarm sounded.
"Saved by the bell, Muncher!" Constance said, quickly getting up from her desk and grabbing Hogarth by the arm as she went past him.
"What is it, Amy?" Jefferson asked.
"The Chef Guido's Italian restaurant in North Beach," Amy said. "Apparently, there's an angry chef on the loose in the kitchen and it's scaring away the employees."
"Oh, good," Hogarth said as he walked towards Ecto-1SF, throwing the chewed-up bat to the side. "I've always wanted to tell them how terrible their spaghetti platter is."
"You've been there before?" Gordon asked, climbing in the front seat next to Hogarth.
"Of course not. But a friend of mine at school gave me his leftovers. After eating it, I know why he didn't want it anymore."
"You'd better be careful what you say in front of these people," Jefferson warned as Hogarth pulled out of the firehouse. "Chef Guido's is one of the most renowned restaurants in San Francisco, and has managed to maintain a five-star rating since it opened in 2000."
"Hey, check this out," Constance said, who was reading a book of newspaper articles. "Apparently, Chef Guido's is located in the building that used to be home to Bassett's."
"Bassett's?" Gordon repeated. "I heard that name before. Wasn't he some kind of French chef?"
"Not just any French chef," Constance said. "He was one of the most famous in the world. He had some of the most unexpected dishes ever prepared by any cook, which could please even the toughest of France's food critics."
"Then what happened to his restaurant?" Hogarth asked.
"It was closed down after it was reported that rats were loose in the kitchen," Jefferson told him.
"Oh," Hogarth said, grimacing. "Well, don't tell them that."