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Aunt Greta woke up with a toe next to her head. Now, if had been her own toe, this might not have concerned her quite as much, but seeing as both her feet were safely at the other end of the bed, either someone else had crawled into her bed overnight and stuck their toe in her face, or someone, somewhere, was missing a toe. Aunt Greta determined it must be the latter, as there was clearly nothing attached to the toe. The next task was to determine who, or what, had lost the toe, and how it had wound up on her pillow.
On second thought, Aunt Greta thought as she dragged herself out from under the sheets, the next task must be to get up and take a shower. Yes, that would clear her mind right up. Aunt Greta stumbled into the bathroom, nearly stepping on her cat, Benny, along the way. Unfortunately, the bookcase did not scamper out of her way as well, and her toe had turned a nasty shade of purple by the time she got into the shower.
The warm water did Aunt Greta's tired mind a world of good. As her equilibrium returned, she slowly realized that the "toe" was probably just a mouse or something that Benny had dragged in overnight. Yes, Benny had a habit of taking in his trophies to her bedroom, this wasn't the first time she had over reacted to a present left on her pillow, either. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she had nearly forgotten the present. Besides, there was a more pressing problem. Her toothbrush was missing.
Lots of things went missing at Aunt Greta's house: glasses, keys, Benny, but she needed the toothbrush now, and if there was one thing worse than Aunt Greta when she was annoyed, it was Aunt Greta when she had bad breath. All of the nieces and nephews had learned long ago that, when staying with Aunt Greta, one must NEVER try to converse with her before she had brushed her teeth in the morning. Aunt Greta herself tried to abide by this rule, knowing full well how badly it affected Benny when she tried to coo at him when she had just woken up. So, creaky Aunt Greta got down on her hands and knees, joints only popping twice, and started the search.

After two hours and a thorough search of the bathroom, living room, and kitchen, Aunt Greta was becoming suspicious, cranky, and beginning to wonder about the germs running around rampant in her mouth. Benny was becoming more irritable, as well. When she had a full nights sleep, and was not greeted in the morning by a treat from Benny, and could find her toothbrush, Aunt Greta could be wonderfully kind, patient, and understanding. In her current state, though, there was only one solution that came to mind for dealing with Benny's incessant meowing and bumping into her: it was time to tape him to the ceiling again.
Luckily for Benny, the duct tape was missing from the everything drawer.
Aunt Greta might be forgetful, and maybe even lazy at times, but the duct tape was ALWAYS in the everything drawer. After all, you never know when you're going to need to make a duct tape casserole for those unwanted dinner guests. The disappearance of the duct tape was enough to make Aunt Greta wonder about outside forces moving her stuff, namely Benny. It was early spring, and poor Benny, stuck all alone with Aunt Greta all winter, would start to act up. No problem, Aunt Greta thought to herself cheerily, I'll just go get his rubber band ball (Benny was allergic to wool, and Greta to cotton; rubber bands were the only thing they could agree on).
Delving through her sock drawer, Aunt Greta received another unpleasant surprise: yes, the rubber band ball was missing as well. This could only be the work of thieves, Aunt Greta thought to herself as she raced across the house to the stairs, hoping that they hadn't...
One glance into the basement confirmed her worst fears: the thief had stolen her Uranium.

Anyone else would have immediately called the police at this point. Aunt Greta, however, had her reasons not to, including the fact that her stash of Uranium was unregistered and not in the appropriate containers, and her house was not zoned for nuclear waste storage, either. Yes, getting the police involved would be nothing but trouble for Aunt Greta, she would have to solve this mystery on her own.
Aunt Greta knew very little about detective work, and what she did know was out of date or from a movie she couldn't remember the title of. One thing that stuck in her mind, though, was to search for clues. Now, Aunt Greta had played Clue many times as a child, and couldn't figure out what Clue could have to do with the crime scene, but, that was the first thing to do, so she took out the board game. Benny, irritable and bored, decided to join her for reasons unknown even to himself.
"Oh, dear," Aunt Greta said aloud as she examined the pieces. "Colonel Mustard seems to have had a bit of an accident." The piece was split in two. "I guess we'll just play without him."
Three hours later, Aunt Greta was getting tired of Clue. Benny had already beaten her four times, and even he couldn't stand another round. It was useless. Aunt Greta decided it was time for some TV. That would clear her worried mind right up, she muttered silently as she pulled her rocker closer to the television and turned on the news.
"...Refusing to leave the warehouse and claiming to have a nuclear bomb," the reporter was saying. "Once again, Henry Dubois, a patient from the Elm Street Sanitarium, has escaped. Dubois suffers from leprosy, and doctors now fear that his family history of schizophrenia is showing its influence on Dubois, who is here on Walnut Street, refusing to leave..." Aunt Greta was about to change the channel when she noticed Benny playing with the broken Colonel Mustard. Suddenly, it made sense to her. Aunt Greta raced out to Walnut Street, hoping to stop all this before it received any more media attention.

"And it looks like a woman from the neighborhood is trying to get into the warehouse... are you getting this? Ok, good. It looks like the police have stopped her and..." Aunt Greta was not going to be stopped by a measly policeman, not when there was nuclear waste involved. A quick jolt from her tazer got him out of her way for long enough to get inside the warehouse.
"Mr. Dubois?" she called into the empty building.
"Stay back or I'll blow this place!" a voice called from a lover level. Aunt Greta walked over to the railing, and saw the "nuclear bomb": the thief was holding on her toothbrush (the trigger, most likely) which was attached to a tangle of rubber bands, duct tape, Uranium and... tin foil?
"You stole my tin foil collection, too?" Aunt Greta asked in disbelief.
"This is your stuff?" Dubois asked.
"Well, yeah..."
"What are you doing with a pile of Uranium in your basement, lady?" he demanded.
"You're one to talk," she shouted back. "You know that isn't going to work, right? It's Uranium 235, nuclear waste, it's no good for bombs."
"Really?" Dubois asked with interest. "Well, my face is red."

Two hours and seven sewer trips later, the Uranium was safely back in Aunt Greta's basement, and the police still thought Dubois was in the warehouse.
"But I could have sworn that 235 is the right kind of Uranium," Henry said over a cup of tea in Aunt Greta's kitchen.
"It's 238, dear," she replied as she refilled her cup. "It's a simple mistake to make."
"But I still don't understand how you knew it was me."
"It's very simple, dear," Aunt Greta said as she handed the toe back to its owner. "There aren't a lot of lepers stealing Uranium in this town."