Gumshoe Sally and the Disappeared Pint

>”Kids,” the robot shouted. “Could I see you in the kitchen?”
>This was serious, the cold edge of the freezer hugging her face as she panned up and down its shelves
>Conspicuously missing was the little cardboard pint sat atop the top shelf, Sally rubbing her chin in increasing consternation
>There’d been a theft here and she was already on it, casing the scene around the fridge and freezer
>”What’s up Mom?”
>Her son slid into the kitchen, socked feet worming in place on the floor
>”Harry where’s Kim?”
>”Uhhhh…”
>”Here Mom!”
>The smaller robot skipped behind her brother, expecting chores or some other monotonous task
>The first was tall enough to reach up there
>Kimberley, though, couldn’t
>Sally stooped low, eyes focusing on the linoleum floor beneath her
>The dust there was unstirred- firstly, whoever was responsible would be sweeping up down there
>More importantly though no one had hopped up on a chair to get at the ice cream, narrowing it down some
>Then again, Sally reminded herself, her youngest easily could have asked in the first place
>”Harold Joseph, Kimberley Jane,” she started. The two shrunk- middle names, *proper* names, meant trouble. “Where’d the pint of ice cream go?”
>Silence
>Painful, quiet and sinking in the cold kitchen air
>Sally worked the freezer door gently to fan a little bit of it towards them, keep the pressure up on her two suspects
>”...I don’t know,” the two chimed in unison
>”I was just playing my computer game,” her daughter added
>She’d taken after her mother with the old machine, booting up old mystery point-and-clicks in her free time
>”Harold?”
>”Doing homework!”
>Sally raised her eyebrows at the two of them, strolling over to the trash can
>This was the worst for them, heads drooping as they were consigned to their fate
>She’d reached into worst places than here, hands taking purchase on the empty pint next to that morning’s coffee grounds
>”And you’re not fibbing?”
>They shook their heads fervently
>Sally hummed, narrowing her eyes at the pair as she examined the closed thing in hand
>”You’re sure? One hundred percent positive?”
>They paused and nodded doubly hard
>”We didn’t eat it mom…”
>”We’ll see about that,” she sniffed, popping the top off
>Emptiness, a painful void free of ice cream save for the dried spits of it on the edge of the pint
>Sally eyed the subtle play and scratch of metal spoons on its inside, the fingernail-like cut into its sides far too large for a normal spoon
>It was scooped into a bowl of some kind, clearly
>And on the lid were those same scrapes and scratches
>But only one person in the house scraped the lid-
>”I’m home,” a man sighed, popping in through the garage door and stepping into the kitchen. All eyes were on him as Sally held the empty ice cream container in hand. “Why’s everyone looking at me?”