Raccoon Racketeer

Chapter Seven

Charles and I approached the slim, jagged hole that led into Pringle’s under-porch apartment, shovels in hand. Octo-Cat stayed on the porch, preferring not to get directly involved if he could avoid it. Paisley, of course, had already charged bravely ahead against my wishes.

“Pringle,” I whisper-yelled at the hole, praying he was in a good enough mood to spare my poor overeager Chihuahua warrior. “Get out here!”

A little head with shining eyes poked out through the overturned grass and dirt—not Pringle’s, but Paisley’s. Oh, thank goodness!

“Hi, Mommy,” she said with a giant, excited shiver. “The raccoon isn’t home, but he sure has a lot of stuff under there!”

More than anything, I was happy to see Paisley had survived her foolish venture without so much as a scratch on her tiny head, but I was also happy about the intel she’d gotten for us.

“I guess that works in our favor,” I said. “It will be easier to get in there and get what we need without raccoon interference.” Glancing up at Charles, I backtracked a little and explained, “Pringle’s not home.”

He chuckled good-naturedly. “Yup, I got that from context. I’m getting really good at understanding your one-sided conversations, you know. I’ve had lots and lots of practice.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, followed closely by Charles’s lips as he pressed them against my skin. Instantly, I felt better, more in control of the situation. What can I say? He just had that kind of effect on me.

I hummed a satisfied beat. “How did I get so lucky to land the best boyfriend in all of Blueberry Bay?” I asked, turning to press my mouth directly to his.

“Only Blueberry Bay?” Charles asked as he playfully twisted a strand of my hair around his index finger, then bopped my nose.

“Okay, then how about the whole state of Maine?” I suggested with a wink.

“How about eww, gross, not in front of the cat?” Octo-Cat groused, jumping off the porch and charging over to stand between us. “This is the reason I call him UpChuck. Every time he’s around, the two of you make me want to vomit.”

Actually, my cat had begun referring to my boyfriend as UpChuck long before we’d started dating, but now wasn’t the time to argue over the timeline. We had a raccoon hideout to raid.

I raised my shovel and smiled awkwardly at my companions. “Ready?”

Charles answered by stabbing his shovel down into the ground and lifting out a giant heap of dirt. “Oh, yeah.”

“This is almost as disgusting as what you two were doing before,” Octo-Cat growled, returning to the porch. He loved exploring the outdoors but hated getting dirty. Sure enough, the sight of the disturbed dirt was enough to have him whipping out his sandpaper tongue and getting to work.

“How can I help, Mommy?” Paisley asked, shifting her weight back and forth between her two front paws in a merry little dance. Unlike the cat, she loved any and every chance to get dirty. On more than one occasion, I’d found her in our laundry room rolling around in the dirty clothes pile with an expression of absolutely unfettered joy.

“Stay out of the way for right now, because I don’t want you to get hurt while we’re digging.”

Paisley’s face fell for an instant. It seemed she was the only one who didn’t understand how small and vulnerable she could be when danger struck—and even when it didn’t. Even though I wanted to keep her safe, I knew better than to completely exclude her from our mission.

“Once we’re done digging, you can help bring things out,” I offered, making my voice high and hyper. “Deal?”

“Deal,” she barked and ran up the porch steps. She had a hard time running in a straight line since her tail was wagging so furiously. Still, she made it to her kitty bestie’s side, tail still wagging a staccato against the porch floorboards.

Turning my attention back to the matter at hand, I realized the pile of dirt beside Charles had grown by several shovelfuls now and I hadn’t even broken earth yet. I raised my shovel again, ready to dig in, when Charles stopped me with a sharp command.

“Grab the flashlight and see what you can make out under there,” he said, lifting yet another pile of dirt out of the way.

I searched the yard until I spotted the flashlight lying in a nearby patch of grass. Grabbing it with both hands, I switched it on. Twilight had already begun to set in. Within half an hour, the sky would be completely dark. We needed to hurry. I had no idea when Pringle would be back, but I knew he had the benefit of night vision plus knowledge of the terrain. And while Octo-Cat could see in the dark, he wasn’t exactly the most hands-on when it came to tonight’s task.

I approached the widened hole carefully so as not to be greeted by a shovelful of dirt to the face and dropped to my hands and knees, lowering myself all the way to my stomach. With the flashlight’s help, I could now see most of the space beneath the porch for the first time ever.

“Oh my gosh,” I squealed, forgetting to keep my voice low so as not to be overheard by Julie inside. “It’s like a dragon’s lair under there. No wonder he thinks of himself as some kind of fairytale knight.”

I just could not get over how much the raccoon had managed to stash in such a confined space. Everywhere I looked, slim boxes, messy stacks of paper, bits of trash, foil, and assorted odds and ends from inside our house crowded the edges of the lair. I spotted a throw pillow that had been missing for weeks. Even one of Octo-Cat’s prized teacups. Oh, he was going to be livid over that one.

“Do you see my angel?” Julie asked from behind me. I hadn’t even heard her come outside, but now that she was here, I needed to be extra careful with how I proceeded.

Sweeping my light around the hidey hole a second time, I tried to focus on anything that caught and played with the light. I’d just about given up on finding it without having to physically get into the space when a little sparkle of shining gold caught my eye.

“Yes! Yes, I see it!” I cried excitedly. The sooner we could return Julie’s stolen treasure, the sooner we could get her out of here and the better we could protect my secret. I reached into the hole as far as I could but came up at least a foot short.

“Paisley,” I called. “Can you help Mommy get the angel?”

The Chihuahua, always eager to please, ran over with a joyous bark, then dived right back into the hole.

I continued to stretch my arm toward the angel and pointed. “Right there. Bring it to Mommy!”

Paisley darted toward the angel and clutched it in her mouth. Unlike Octo-Cat, she didn’t mind when I talked to her the way humans normally talked to animals. She was just so happy to be a part of Nan’s and my life, she never really questioned anything we did or how we chose to do it.

“Good dog!” I gushed as she made her way back to me. “Good dog!”

Charles helped me back to my feet, then Paisley emerged with the prized possession still held securely between her jaws.

“Oh, that’s it,” Julie said with yet another sniffle as she bent down to accept the trinket from Paisley. “That’s my angel. Thank you. Thank you so much!”

“Sorry about that. The good news is that a little polish should have it as good as new,” I said, hoping this observation would prove to be true.

“Clearly we need to do something about that raccoon,” Nan added with a heavy sigh as she shook her head.

We stood in silence for a few moments, until…

A chittering yowl hurtled through the air, an angry raccoon following close behind it. “My home! What have you done to my home?” Pringle yelled, lifting both hands to his head and looking as if he were trying to push his brains back in through his ears.

“Get back!” Julie cried, keeping her eyes on Pringle as she backed slowly toward her truck. “That thing could have rabies.”

“Rabies?” Pringle fell to all fours and ambled after Julie. “That’s speciesist, and I don’t appreciate it… Hey, wait, that’s mine!”

“Stop!” I shouted just as Pringle raised himself to his hindlegs again and was making ready to swipe the angel straight out of Julie’s hands.

Everyone turned toward me, waiting to see what my big plan was. Um, I didn’t have one. Not yet, anyway.

“Julie, you should go. I’ll call you later to check in on your case. First I need to deal with our raccoon friend here,” I muttered.

I just hoped my use of the word friend might soften Pringle to what was coming next.