Family Business, 4. Plotting in the kitchen

I got up early. Not that I didn't want to sleep in, but the cats (little bandits!) pestered me until I got up to feed them.
Having fed the cats I started to cook breakfast for myself and Scruff. If I didn't I knew Scruff would try to do it, and she has been known to get egg on the ceiling, which is funny, but murder to get off.
Samantha watched me from the kitchen table, and I smiled at the sight.
"Don't worry, Samantha, Scruff's a friend. Remember?"
"Yeah."
Scruff entered, yawning. In a pair of pyjamas that looked like they had been made for someone considerably larger than her, she looked quite funny. She was barefoot, of course, and her waist-length black hair was a mess. But then, it always is.
"Breakfast," I explaned cheerily.
"What about the Peroxide Peril?"
"Oh, her. Well, what we have to do is link her to Dad's death. I'd hoped there was come other way of doing it, but right now it looks like we'll have to kidnap her and get her to confess."
"Great! I've always wanted to kidnap her! But she's my legal guardian..."
"Scruff, you're sixteen. You can choose where you live. With me, for example. We'll find a nice school in London, or a college where you can do A-levels..."
"And if I don't want to?"
"Then we'll have to think of something you can do. I'm afraid there won't be a lot of your inheritance left after the Peroxide Peril has robbed you."
"I could help you fight crime."
What could I do? Scruff's so appealing. I shook my head and laughed.
"All right, Scruff. But remember, I'm in charge. Now, I have an idea...
As I explained it to Scruff her eyes grew as wide as saucers.
It was, after all, a brilliant plan.