Page 53 of Shenanigans

We all heaved a sigh of relief. No people burgers had been served in Arizona.

“Good news. The media fall-out would have been a nightmare,” Lieutenant Wilson replied.

Dutch scowled. “Yeah, but all our evidence is gone.”

“The animals will eventually shit it out,” I replied.

“We need to contact the Mexican Federal Police as soon as possible. Send the Chief an email with all the data we have so far Larry,” Lieutenant Wilson instructed.

“Yes, sir.”

“S30 to command,” a male voice called over the police radio.

The Lieutenant keyed his lapel radio mike, “Go ahead S30.”

“There’s a lookout on the roof. He’s Hispanic, wearing a black hoodie and armed with a sniper rifle,” S30 advised.

A hoodie in this heat? I asked Dutch, “Who’s S30?”

“He’s a covert assault officer. He infiltrates the area and reports in.”

“Gotcha. You want me to disable the guy on the roof?”

Dutch nodded. “We do. Are you sure it’s safe for you to use your Dr. Doolittle powers?”

“Let me put it to you this way. That ability is on a different frequency level than talking to the dead.”

“Okay. Be careful. One hint of trouble, you close it down.”

I saluted Dutch. “Yes, sir.” Fighting down a bad case of the jitters, I dropped my mental shields and psychically scanned the area. I smiled. There were lots of critters to work with.

I would start with the feral cat on the roof to distract the sniper. Then use a barn owl to snatch his rifle and follow up with the eight skunks who lived under the foundation. They should clear out the building rather nicely.

“Y’all got gas masks?”

Dutch blinked in surprise. “We do. Are we going to need them?”

“Yep. I’m gonna skunk ‘em.”

“Take the sniper out first,” Lieutenant Wilson ordered.

“Yes, sir.” I focused on the cat crouched on top of an air-conditioner. Her litter of kittens were under a bunch of old crates the sniper was standing beside.“Bad man wants to hurt your babies. Protect them.”

As the hissing cat leaped on the sniper’s head, I summoned the barn owl and put the image of the rifle in his mind.“Get the big stick.”

“Aiieeeee! Aiieeeee! Aiieeeee! Aiieeeee!” The lookout cried as the feral feline clawed his face and head. Dropping the rifle, he did a wacky hip hop dance as he fought to dislodge the cat.

The owl swooped in, snagged the rifle and flew off.

Through the owl’s eyes I spotted S30 hiding in waist high weeds.“Drop the stick. Now,”I commanded.

The barn owl obediently released it. I watched as the rifle plummeted down and smacked the ground a foot from S30.

The camouflaged painted SWAT officer didn’t even flinch. He picked up the rifle and advised over the radio, “Sniper rifle secured.”

Lieutenant Wilson asked, “How did you manage that?”

“Owl delivery, sir,” S30 deadpanned.

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