Drizzled with Death(5)
“So what’s this new information?” People would be arriving in just a few minutes and we needed the seats. The pancake breakfast always runs to capacity, and this year they were expecting a bigger than usual turnout since the auxiliary decided to add home fries to the menu.
“The state police spotted an abandoned, empty tractor trailer truck on the side of the highway. A few miles up they found the driver on foot.”
“So?”
“He’d been illegally transporting exotic animals for a friend who was selling them to another unauthorized collector.”
“Did you say the truck was empty?”
“That’s the heart of the matter. He pulled over and let all the animals loose.”
“Why?” The thought of letting exotic animals loose to roam around someone else’s town was completely unconscionable. And not just because of the danger to the people. Most exotic animals weren’t built for New Hampshire winters and ours was almost here.
“He blamed it on the parrots.”
“The parrots?”
“He ran out of room in the back so he strapped a cage with a pair of parrots into the passenger seat of the cab with him. At first he thought they were entertaining, the way they seemed like they were talking to each other.”
“Skip to the part where he lets the animals loose.”
“I’m getting there. As the miles wore on, he got better at piecing together what the birds were saying. By the time he got to Sugar Grove, they were repeating some choice bits of conversation between his wife and the friend he was helping.” Graham’s stubbly cheeks turned a bit red and he dropped his eyes to his coffee cup.
“What kind of choice bits?” Seeing him squirm was improving my morning.
“Endearments, passionate vocalizations, criticisms of the husband’s bedroom performance.” He picked at the rim of the paper cup with a rough thumbnail.
“So he decided to get back at the guy by turning the animals loose?”
“That’s the gist of it.”
“So what exactly did he let loose?” I could just feel the validation coming, could almost see it forming on his lips.
“Peacocks, a couple of cassowaries, several large snakes, a zebra, and a couple of kangaroos. A camel was mentioned along with lemurs, sloths, alligators, and a few squirrel monkeys.”
“But no big cats?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“There was a leopard tortoise.”
“Have you ever heard of a tortoise with teeth?”
“No, but I’ve never heard of a mountain lion actually being in New Hampshire either. Maybe you saw a capybara. There was one of those, too.”
“Aren’t they the world’s largest rodent? Those definitely don’t have a swishy tail as long as their bodies.” I could feel my anger rising again. “I really don’t have time for this. The breakfast is due to start in just a few minutes and there are still some things I need to do.” I shoved back my chair.
“I’m here not only to apologize but also to ask a favor.”
“Hold on, now you want a favor? I already gave you a cup of coffee and somewhere to sit, not to mention time I don’t really have to offer.”
“I understand. I just want to make an announcement sometime during the breakfast to appeal to residents not to be alarmed if they also see unusual animals in the area.”
“You’re going to want to ask them not to take it upon themselves to remedy the situation while you’re at it. Not everyone around here would think to call Fish and Game if there was an alligator in the backyard.”
“So the Gila monster might be in more danger from the residents than from the cold snap in the forecast?”
“I think that’s a safe bet. You can stick around and make your announcement but wait until after the pancake-eating contest. I don’t want talk about a zebra stealing the limelight, at least not until it’s necessary.”
“Thanks. I’m sure it will help if I get to talk to everyone.”
“Let’s just hope you make a better impression on the pancake enthusiasts than you have on me.” I stood up and lobbed my paper cup at the nearby trash can, making a neat basket, and then headed to the kitchen to see how I could help before the doors flew open and the crowds roared in.
“Who’s the fella?” Myra lifted her voice over the sizzle of sausage and the clang of grill scrapers.
“The guy from Fish and Game. He wants to make a public service announcement.”
“He’s pretty easy on the eyes.” She squinted through the smoke rising up off the griddle. A pair of ancient volunteers stood a couple of feet away beating pancake batter with a whisk. Several other women from the auxiliary raced to and fro with plates and pitchers of syrup. One carried a tray loaded with dishes of butter.