The art gallery owner was glaring down at the amphibian police Sargent standing behind the station’s visitor’s counter. “No I don’t know what you mean by procedures”
“I’ve only been here a month and now my Ansel Adams’ and Maplethorpe’s are gone! We know who the suspects are, everyone who was at the opening. Now hop to it and find my photographs!”

The Sargent straightened to his full 4 foot height. “M’am there’s no need for phylumic insults. We do have the first group of suspects in custody. As we explained before, there are procedures. Either you pay for a very prolonged expensive investigation, or we take advantage of the fact that mutual mucus membrane contact with your species briefly removes our ability to lie.”

“I sunk everything I had into moving to this backwater planet and opening my gallery. I can’t believe what you’re asking me to do.”

“Yes” said the Sargent, “you’re going to have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prints.”