by Deany Ray
Gagging with disgust, I let go of my hold on Lou and then watched helplessly as he scrambled up a tree. We had lost our runaway! It was all my fault that we could not return, triumphant, to the zoo with one farting panda, delivered safe and sound.
Plus, the smell was awful. I could barely breath. How could that much stink come from one small bear? I bent down to gag.
I turned to see if my friends were angry. Instead, they were laughing so hard they couldn’t catch their breath. They’d moved back ten feet to escape the dreadful smell. Between Marge’s shrieks and the honking sound coming from Celeste, there were enough weird noises in the air to send the bear into a full-fledged panic. I heard his quick footsteps as he scrambled even higher up the tree and further from our reach.
“Well,” Celeste said when she had caught her breath. “I tried to read up on every possible situation we might face with this bear. But that wasn’t covered in the books: how to hang on to a subject when he farts right in your face.”
They burst into more gales of laughter.
Humph. Celeste didn’t read up on everything (nor did I, apparently). Or she’d have studied how to catch him!
“I’m afraid he’s disappeared again,” Marge said. She began to coo again. “Come back, little panda!”
I was trying hard not to gag again. “He disappeared all right. But he left his smell behind.”
That, of course, set off my laughing friends again. Who knew this was a party?
We decided to divide and conquer, with each of us taking several pickles from the second jar that I’d left in the car and searching a small section of the park for both the smelly panda and a victim with a bloody hand.
“I’ll take the east side,” Celeste said. “And Marge can take the west. Charlie, you search in the middle. If you find our friend Lou, grab him very gently.”
“And then what?” I asked.
“Hold your breath for one thing.” Marge scrunched up her nose. “And make sure that his bottom is aimed the other way.”
“But what do I do for real?” I asked, exhausted and annoyed. “We have to have a plan.”
Nobody said a word. Nobody really knew.
“Try to get him to the car, I guess, the best way that you can,” Celeste said at last. “Marge, go make sure that it’s unlocked.”
I hoped that one of us could catch the panda and wrap this thing up quick. And I really hoped that someone wasn’t me.
Before Marge headed to the car, Celeste talked her into taking the finger and stashing it in her purse. “I can’t very well catch a panda with one hand, and hold on to a bloody finger with the other,” Celeste said. “I’m an investigator here; I’m not an acrobat.”
But Lou, it seemed, was long gone. We had frightened him, and he had left me wishing for a very long and soapy shower. After twenty minutes, we met back at the car. There was still work to do. Now there was a second mystery: whose finger did we have?
“It belongs to a male, I think,” Celeste said. “It’s not a dainty finger.”
“It might be a pinky,” Marge ventured. “It looks small to me.”
I tried to turn my thoughts from ewww! into investigative mode. How best to find the owner? My fellow detectives joined me in silent contemplation. We all came up short.
It was Marge who broke the silence. “Does anyone know if the park has a lost and found?” That set us all to laughing. I really couldn’t help it. It wasn’t funny, but it somehow was.
When I caught my breath, I tried once again to scramble for an answer, a clue about where we might go from there. “Why would Lou do a disgusting thing like bite off somebody’s finger?”
This was disappointing. The red pandas were heroes here in Springston. Kids dressed up like the pandas every Halloween; they drew the pandas’ pictures to hang up on the fridge. The boy next door had even named his kitten Lou.
“Oh, I still believe in Lou!” Marge cried. “I don’t think that panda has a mean bone in his body.”
“What he did to me was pretty mean,” I said. I still could smell the stink. It had settled in my clothes.
“That wasn’t aggression,” Celeste said. “That was tummy trouble.”
“Lou didn’t bite off that finger. He’s way too sweet and cute,” Marge said. “I think he found the finger. After the unfortunate event.” Then her eyes grew wide. “Maybe he found it in the park. Maybe someone who does disgusting things is in this park with us.”
“That does it,” I said. “We need to get out of here. We have to take the finger to the police and report this.”
Celeste put up a hand. “Now, hold your horses right there. If we can solve this thing ourselves, we can show them what we’re worth. They assign us to find a panda like we’re some kind of joke. And instead we nab some bad guy who’s maiming people in the park. Somebody’s hurt – real bad. Someone needs our help.”
“This could be an awesome case,” Marge said. “The Finger Fiasco and the Panda.”
Celeste sighed. “The case doesn’t need a title, Marge. It’s not a TV show.”
“But it might be on TV someday. This might be a case that makes the TV shows.” Marge got all dreamy eyed.
“But before you practice your quotes for the TV,” Celeste said, “we need to find the owner of the finger.”
“We could call hospitals,” I offered. “That could narrow it down. How many recent patients could there be who came in without their finger? But then, on second thought, lots of medical places have sprung up all around here since I moved away. It might take forever to call every single one. And I think you kind of have to hurry with a missing body part. It’s not like you can wait forever before it’s reattached. At least, I think that’s right.”
“That’s what I think too,” Marge said. “I think I saw it on TV.”
Celeste frowned. “And it might seem suspicious too: three women asking around about a missing finger. They’ll wonder why we didn’t just take it to the cops. It would seem odd, I guess, us trying to track down the victim on our own. Since we’re not on official business.” She winked. “At least, not as far as anyone can tell.”
“Day one!” Marge chirped. “And we haven’t blown our cover.” She looked thoughtful. “I hope that I get to use my crime-scene tape and my tape recorder soon. I got the tape recorder for half price.” She had always taken great pride in her shopping skills.
Celeste looked at me and shrugged.
“Whatever, Marge,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll use them soon. I don’t think we have a choice here. We should take this to the police. The hospitals will talk to them. And they can search the park in case the victim’s still out here somewhere hurt.”
Celeste thought about it. “I suppose you’re right. We need to get the finger to them quick.” She grinned. “I hope my ex is there. I’d love to give the finger to our brand new chief. Pun intended.”
I’m sure she already had.
I shrugged. “He could get a fingerprint, I guess.”
“And I just know that asshole will take the credit for our finger find!” Celeste said. She was a little fired up now. “This is no way to stay in business.”
“Just because he has the finger doesn’t mean we can’t be the ones to solve the mystery,” I said. “Because we found it first, that gives us the right to look for the bad guy too – and also for the victim. If there is a bad guy at all. We still don’t know what’s up with the finger. There’s a victim for sure.”
“Well, that settles that. We’ll look for both the pinky people!” Marge said.
***
I was beyond exhausted when we got to the station. It was already dark outside. But somebody somewhere was…well, they were incomplete. A finger is important! A person needs their parts.
The few cops scattered across the room looked at each other and grinned when they noticed us. That made it clear: they knew exactly who we were.
“We need a detective, please.” Celeste sounded more official than she looked at the mom
ent. Her shirt was covered with stains after our adventure. Her blue scarf was coming loose, but still made a valiant effort to hide her fire-engine-colored hair.
A heavyset older man took a bite out of an apple as he looked us over. “I don’t suppose that you three ladies have a panda in that bag?” He nodded toward Marge’s purse. He could barely suppress his laughter over his stupid joke. “Have you come to bring the little guy in for questioning? Better let him out now. It might be hard for him to breathe.”
A younger cop put down the file he’d be reading and propped his feet up on his desk. “How’s it going, ladies, with that missing-person case? Did the panda leave a note? Did he have enemies that might have some kind of motive to do him any harm?” The others laughed, rewarding his lame efforts to be funny.
I saw Celeste begin to fume. Any redder and her face might just match her hair.
The apple guy shrugged and aimed his core across the room, making an impressive landing in a trashcan almost four feet away. “Well, you ladies have a tough one. I don’t guess the panda has a cell phone to help you trace his whereabouts?”
“It’s an important case,” Marge said, banging her purse down hard on the reception desk. “Lou deserves to be rescued just as much as anybody else.”
The younger cop walked over to the desk and leaned across it, facing Marge. “Lady, you got that one right. You know what the song says about our good friends at the zoo. Right, guys?” He glanced back at the others.
Well, dang. I knew what was coming.
They all joined in, singing the theme song for the zoo. The ads played all day on the radio. The cops sang very loudly and very much off key.
Come to the zoo to play.
Oh, happy, happy day!
Friends both old and new
Are waiting just for you.
“Hold the music, maestro.” Celeste’s voice was firm. “We need a detective, not a choir.”
But by then, they were getting into it, swaying with their arms around each other, building up to their big finish.
Who will meet you there?
A snake? A bird? A bear?
They’re waiting just for you
At the zoo, the zoo, the zoo.
One cop mooed, another oinked; another let loose with a bray. They finished with jazz hands and turned around three times, kicking their feet up in the air.
Oh, they were having fun.
I hated being laughed at. “That doesn’t sound like any zoo I’ve ever been to,” I said indignantly. “That sounds like a farm.”
Celeste glared as the men high-fived one another. “Perhaps they missed that little worksheet like my nephew had in school. You know, Match the baby animal to its cozy home. I think that it’s in first grade that you learn to tell the difference between the zoo and the farm.”
Marge was skipping in place with glee. “Sing the song again!”
“Don’t you dare!” Celeste yelled. She rubbed her forehead as if she felt a migraine coming on.
I looked to the left and noticed Alex, leaning against the door that led to the administrative offices. There was no way around it; the man was looking fine. His dark brown hair was a little longer than before – and it still looked so very soft. His eyes were even dreamier than I had remembered – and seemed to be dancing with amusement over my current plight.
Wasn’t that always the way when it came to me and him? I always was the one in some dopey situation, and he got to stand there looking all official and amused. It had happened time and time again with the case we’d worked on earlier. But then, who had caught the bad guys? Not you, Mr. Hottie, with your hint of a moustache and your muscles straining against your shirt and your…Geez. Pay attention, Charlie!
“Now,” Celeste said, “the reason we came in here is…”
“We didn’t find a panda…yet. But we found a little something else.” Like a proud child bringing home a prize, Marge slowly opened her bag and pulled out the finger.
The cops gasped.
“Not so funny now, is it?” I said.
The cops were struck dumb with silence as Alex walked closer to take a look. He didn’t look amused anymore; he had his cop face on. “What’s up with that thing?”
Humph. “A hello would be nice,” I said. I hadn’t seen the guy in weeks. I wondered how my hair looked. Snap out of it, Charlie. This is not the time to think about your hair.
He was way too engrossed to notice anyway. He was frowning at the finger. “Where did you…” he started. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. Let’s talk in my office.”
We left the impromptu choir behind and walked into his office. We took seats in the cheap-looking orange chairs that were placed around his desk.
“You’re working late,” I said.
He leaned back in his big desk chair. “I was just about to wrap things up for the night.” He glanced at the finger, which Marge was stroking like a pet that needed comforting. “But now we seem to have a little situation. Okay, what’s the story?”
Celeste began the explanation. “Well, I guess that you’re aware Bert has hired the three of us…”
He grinned. “Yeah. He’s hired you to go chasing after Springston’s favorite bear.”
“We’ve already had a sighting at the park downtown,” Celeste told him proudly. “The bear was there tonight.”
“But he got away from Charlie!” Marge interrupted. “’Cause he farted in her face.”
There went any chance I had of appearing even a little bit mysterious or sexy.
Alex stared then laughed out loud. “I’ve had subjects punch me, shooting at me but none of the jerks I’ve chased down have tried to get away by setting off a stink bomb in my face.”
We filled Alex in on how we found the finger and I thought I saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.
“It’s a pinky, right?” Marge asked enthusiastically.
Alex took a closer look. “Yeah, looks like it.”
“Do you think the panda might have…uh…done this?” I asked.
Alex studied the finger one more time. “Don’t think so. Do you see the cut right here?”
We all stared at the finger in disgust.
“It’s a clean cut,” Alex said. “Even if the panda nibbled on it, you can still see that someone – a person – cut this finger off.”
A wave of nausea hit my stomach.
Celeste shifted in her chair. “I believe that time is of the essence with a severed body part. I suggest you phone the hospitals and see if we can reunite this finger as soon as possible with its rightful owner.”
“I’ll get my colleagues on it. Hang on. I’ll be back.” He took the finger from Marge and placed it in a small see-through bag he got from a drawer. Then he left the room to tell the men to begin making phone calls in search of a patient in need of a finger.
When he returned, he took us to another office, where a middle-aged woman gave us a tired smile.
Alex made the introductions. “Agnes, I’d like you to meet the independent investigators the chief recently brought in. I’m afraid I’m going to need you to stay a little longer. I’ll need you to run some prints.”
“No problem,” she said.
“I’ll be right back,” Alex said and left the room.
Agnes turned to us. “Is the suspect already here?”
“Uh…It’s actually a victim,” I said.
She sighed. “So, they’re in bad shape, huh? Brought in without I.D.?” And without an arm, a head…
“Kind of. He was brought in…in a purse,” I said.
Startled, Agnes put her hand up to her heart. “What do you mean? In a purse?” She stood. “Where is the victim now?”
“I gave it to Alex. Alex has it now. In a bag,” Marge squeaked.
Agnes looked like she might faint.
Alex rushed right back with the finger. “Here. It’s not a person, really,” he explained to Agnes. “Or…I guess it’s part of one. Hopefully you can tell us who might have lost this
finger.”
“We think the victim’s male. Cause of the size and all.” Celeste studied the finger once again.
Agnes looked like she was happy just to breathe. “It might take a while to get a name if it’s in the database. A day or two at best.”
She shook her head when she noticed the surprise on Marge’s face. “Oh, I know that’s not the timeline that you might expect. We’re not like those cops on TV – solving major crimes in the space of sixty minutes. Here in the real world, things move a little slower than they do on CSI.” She smiled. “But those cops are fun to watch. I love me some CSI.”
Marge bounced up in excitement. “Oh! Did you see the one...?”
Celeste took her gently by the elbow. “No. We all have work to do.” Then she turned to Alex. “Did your guys call any hospitals yet?”
“Yeah. Nothing suspicious so far,” Alex said.
The local hospitals, it seemed, had nothing to report yet. All new patients in the area had come into the waiting room with all their parts attached.
I wondered what that could mean. It didn’t seem like good news. If the victim hadn’t shown up to ask for help for his mangled hand, he might be in really bad shape.
Alex sighed. “Well, I have to finish up some reports, and I suggest you ladies go home. We’ll work with the medical experts to keep the finger in the best shape that we can.”
Did he just want us out of there so he could dig up clues all by himself and get all the credit for wrapping up the case? Alex loved his glory; he loved to be “the man.” But there was nothing we could do right now. It had been a long day. I wanted a cookie and my pillow.
Alex cleared his throat. “Oh, and by the way, I wish you ladies would consider laying low for now. We’ve had some…developments. There’s a reason to think that some serious things might be going down. I’m glad you found the finger. Great detective work. But for now at least, I wouldn’t hang around the parks or in the woods at night. That would not be wise.” He looked straight at me. “I really mean it this time. I’m talking danger here.”
