Legal Seagull

Chapter Fifteen

I had to wait a couple minutes for Charles’s return call after pulling over to the shoulder of the highway. Nan woke up and offered to take the wheel, but I figured it would be best to have this call while fully stopped. I’d have hated for her to get distracted and crash the car a second time.

When at last he called again, Charles seemed to be out of breath. “Sorry… for the… wait,” he said between gasps for air. His face was red from exertion and he wore a pained expression.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I tried to keep the worry from my features. After all, he could see me, too.

“Yeah, it is now. That bird caught up with me, and I had to fight him off with a broom.” The redness began to fade from his face and he smiled, but I still had concerns.

“What?” I shouted.

“Eck, too loud!” Octo-Cat moaned behind me, but I pointedly ignored him.

“He tried getting in through the pet door, but not to worry. I got him back out again.”

I was most definitely worried but also knew I needed to speak with Pringle before he grew impatient and scampered off to do something else. If he got away now, who knew when we’d be able to find him again? Charles was already working at a disadvantage not being able to speak to the raccoon or seagulls directly, after all.

“If you’re sure you’re okay,” I said with a frown, and then, “Hand the phone to Pringle. He’ll know what to do.”

The camera maneuvered quickly, showing me an impromptu tour of my own living room from odd angles. A few seconds later, a masked face with beady eyes filled the screen.

“Commander, that you?” he asked with a voice that sounded more 1940s gangster than it did spy operative. My gimmicky presentation had clearly resonated with him, which meant it would be far easier to get him to follow orders.

“Affirmative.” I leveled my eyes and pushed my mouth into a straight serious line.

“I got your message before it could self-destruct,” he said in a garbled whisper, then glanced to both sides before turning back to me. “You said you had an assignment for me?”

“10-4.” I didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded right. “Uh, are you ready to hear the details?”

Pringle winked. “Darling, I was born ready… Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me!”

Drats. That was the one downside of FaceTime. I couldn’t keep playing this ridiculous role while also keeping a straight face. “Permission to speak plainly?” I asked in a desperate ploy to keep us on task, then held my breath as I waited for him to acknowledge my request.

The raccoon sighed, then nodded. “Granted.”

“We need your help finding out what happened to that missing flock.”

A slow, wicked smile stretched across the raccoon’s face. “So I hear. I can help, but it’ll cost you.”

Of course it would. Pringle had never done something out of the goodness of his heart. Not once. But at least he was relatively easy to convince if the price was right.

“Fine,” I said, but I wasn’t in much of a place to negotiate with him from the side of the road, mid-trip. “We’ll figure out your payment when I get back. Okay?”

He jerked his head sharply to the side and thrust his nose into the air. “Not okay. If you want my help, we make our contract now.”

I sighed and rubbed at the bridge of my nose. “What do you want?”

Again he smiled wickedly. “Actually, I was hoping for—”

“Wait!” Charles interjected and then presumably foisted his phone from the raccoon’s grasp because a moment later his face filled the screen. “He’s asking for payment, right?”

Whether he figured this out from my end of the conversation, our previous dealings with Pringle, or both, Charles clearly understood that I was in the midst of negotiating.

“Yup. Got any ideas?” I sure hoped he did because I had nothing.

Pringle’s fingers writhed in front of the screen and he shouted, “I already know what I want. Give it back!”

Charles, of course, didn’t know what he was saying, and even if he had, probably wouldn’t have agreed to it, anyway. He rose to his feet, out of reach of the raccoon, and continued, “The seagulls offered to arrange something as a thank-you. Remember?”

Oh, that was right! Seeing as neither Charles nor I were even remotely interested in whatever dumpster fire the birds gifted us, it made sense to offer it to Pringle. It might just save us from having to agree to something pricey that a raccoon had no business ever owning, like a motorcycle or a robot. And given his odd predilection for doubling up whenever possible, he’d likely demand two, if given the chance.

“Good idea,” I said with a smile. I loved how my boyfriend not only accepted my strange ability but was a true champ at rolling with the punches. “Give the phone back to him now.”

Pringle appeared a few seconds later with a huff.

“Now as I was saying before I got so rudely interrupted…” He paused and glanced up with a scowl—at Charles, I guessed.

“Hold it right there,” I said before he could continue, then waited for him to clamp his mouth shut to deliver my offer. “A secret spy mission calls for something extra valuable. Wouldn’t you say?”

I had his attention now.

“Go on.” The words rolled out smooth and glib.

“We’ve been promised a secret treasure.” I widened my eyes to punctuate this revelation.

“A secret treasure. Interesting.” Pringle rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What is it?”

“Nobody knows. That’s what makes it so exciting.”

The raccoon narrowed his eyes at me. “Hey, you’re not trying to pull one over on me, are you?”

I shook my head adamantly. “No, of course not!”

“Hmmm...” Pringle rubbed at his chin some more. His lips began to move as he mouthed words, but no sound came out. Finally he smiled and said, “Okay, sold.”

“Excellent.”

He switched from business mode to action mode so quickly, the change was almost visible on his face. “Now where can I find that flock?”

I filled him in on all the details—or at least as many as I could without losing his attention—and suggested he start by heading over to Dewdrop Springs. “I’m on it,” Pringle promised before dropping the phone to the ground and scampering off.

Crash! The sound of the phone colliding with the hardwood floorboards sounded like a peal of thunder on my end of the call.

“My phone!” Charles cried from his side.

I couldn’t help but laugh as he retrieved the fallen gadget and searched it for any signs of damage.

“Not funny,” he said but laughed along with me. “I sure do miss you. Have a great time, but hurry home, okay?”

I agreed, and we said goodbye. A huge part of me wished I’d never agreed to this trip in the first place. But I saw Charles live and in person several times each week. Octo-Cat only ever got to speak with his girlfriend over the Internet. They needed this trip to keep their relationship strong. As obnoxious as my cat had been this entire trip, at least he was happy. That made my short-term discomfort worth it, especially if the two cats had a great time this week.

“I’ll need a payment, too, and you can’t trick me like you did the raccoon,” Octo-Cat informed me from his place in the torn-up back seat, proving that he couldn’t go longer than a few minutes without complaining about or demanding something.

I didn’t turn to look at him, because I knew it would send a new pain twinging down my neck. Stupid car accident. Maybe Grizabella’s human could recommend a good chiropractor while we were in Colorado because I needed to do something to treat this pain, and I really didn’t want to have to endure another long drive and a whole week of waiting before getting it.

“I’m not paying you anything,” I muttered and stretched my arms out in front of me with a yawn.

He tsked and declared, “Ah, ah, ah. Finder’s fee. It was my idea to bring him in, wasn’t it?”

Darn it. I really couldn’t argue with him on that one.