“No, no. It’s fine. Just fine.” She had finished with the curlers and cinched her bathrobe tight. “I’ll freshen up. Wait a moment, won’t you? Half a second.”
Half a second ended up being fifteen minutes.
Mrs. Yates swanned out of her bedroom fully appointed in a soft, green, belted pea coat and shiny kitten heels that matched the large purse swinging at her elbow. Her hair curled and bounced, and the fuchsia lipstick was on point.
“Bring me the penguin,” she intoned.
I ran my job duties through my head trying to figure out where it said I’d haul waterfowl around for people with illusions of grandeur.
She pointed toward the living room and puffed up her hair with her free hand.
I pulled out my phone and texted Crow.You owe me.
I found the penguin in the center of her dining room table which was littered with magazines and newspapers. Most of them were spread open with bits clipped out and gathered in a basket next to it.
It looked like a ransom note production line, but a quick peek at the clippings showed articles and travel guides listing the best things to visit along the Oregon Coast, most of which did not include a certain penguin who was staring me in the eyes.
My phone vibrated. Crow’s reply:??And a winky face.
A winky face.
I texted:I know what you did last night.
His response:perv
I coughed to cover my laugh.
“Chief Reed. Now, please.”
I pocketed my phone and hefted the penguin. “Don’t look at me like that,” I said to its little face. “You’re the one who had to be so photogenic.”
“I am ready,” Mrs. Yates announced. “Open the door!”
She snagged the statue, flicked invisible dust off of it, then held it against her chest like an Oscar.
“So, I’ll get back to you on the clean up.”
“Yes, yes.”
“I want you to know we’ll do everything we can to find out who pulled this prank.”
“Uh-huh. Of course. Door please.” She pulled back her shoulders and put on a toothy smile.
I opened the door. Waited.
“Go,” she said through her teeth. “Announce me.”
I had a good voice and knew how to make it carry. Still, the crowd was a living breathing thing, some people hanging out, talking, others trying to push their way forward to figure out what was going on. Still more posed for pictures.
Myra and Kelsey had it under control. There was no stampeding. The line to get a good look at the yard was moving along at a decent pace.
I put my fingers to my lips and whistled.
“Thank you for coming out, everyone,” I hollered.
Myra jogged over, bullhorn in her hand.
Someone yelled, “Louder!”
