Carl Hiaasen - Hoot

Gruffly, the sergeant interjected: "Aw, the kid's jerking our chain, is all."

The captain pushed back slowly from his desk. He could feel another crusher of a headache coming on.

"Okay, I'm making a command decision here," he said. "Considering we've got nothing better to work with, I intend to tell Chief Deacon that the Mother Paula's vandal has been apprehended. Case closed."

Officer Delinko cleared his throat. "Sir, I found a piece of a shirt at the crime scene-a shirt that's way too small to fit the Matherson boy."

He didn't mention that the remainder of the shirt had been tied, tauntingly, to the antenna of his squad car.

"We need more than a rag," the captain grunted. "We need a warm body, and the only one we've got is sitting in juvenile detention. So officially he's our perpetrator, understand?"

Officer Delinko and his sergeant agreed in unison.

"I'm going out on a limb here, so you know what that means," the captain said. "If another crime happens on that property, I'll look like a complete bozo. And if I end up looking like a bozo, certain people around here are going to spend the rest of their careers cleaning dimes out of parking meters. Am I making myself clear?"

Again Officer Delinko and his sergeant said yes.

"Excellent," said the captain. "So your mission, basically, is to make sure there's no more surprises between now and the Mother Paula's groundbreaking ceremony on Wednesday."

"No sweat." The sergeant rose to his feet. "Can we tell David the good news?"

"Sooner the better," said the captain. "Officer Delinko, you're back on the road, effective immediately. In addition, the sergeant has written a letter commending the outstanding job you did in capturing our suspect. This will become part of your permanent file."

Officer Delinko was beaming. "Thank you, sir!"

"There's more. Because of your experience on this case, I'm assigning you to a special patrol at the Mother Paula's construction site. Twelve hours on, twelve hours off, beginning tonight at dusk. You up for that?"

"Absolutely, Captain."

"Then go home and take a nap," the captain advised, "because if you doze off out there again, I'll be writing a much shorter letter for your file. A termination letter."

Outside the captain's office, Officer Delinko's sergeant gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Two nights and we're home free, David. You psyched?"

"One question, sir. Will I be on duty out there alone?"

"Well, we're hurting on the night shift right now," the sergeant told him. "Kirby got stung by a yellow jacket, and Miller's out with a sinus infection. Looks like you'll be riding solo."

"That's okay," Officer Delinko said, though he would have preferred to have a partner, under the circumstances. Curly probably would be staying at the trailer, though he wasn't the best company.

"You drink coffee, David?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Drink twice as much as usual," the sergeant said. "I don't expect anything to happen, but you'd better be wide awake if it does."

On the way home, Officer Delinko stopped at a souvenir shop along the main highway. Then he swung by the Juvenile Detention Center to take one more crack at Dana Matherson. It would be such a relief if the boy admitted to even one of the earlier vandalisms.

Dana was brought to the interview room by a uniformed guard, who took a position outside the door. The kid was dressed in a rumpled gray jumpsuit with the word INMATE stenciled in capital letters across the back. He wore only socks because his toes were still swollen from the rattraps. Officer Delinko offered him a stick of gum, which the kid crammed into his cheeks.

"So, young man, you've had some time to think."

"'Bout what?" Dana blew a bubble and popped it.

"You know. Your situation."

"I don't need to think," the boy said. "That's how come I got a lawyer."

Officer Delinko leaned forward. "Forget the lawyers, okay? I'll put in a good word with the judge if you'll just help me clear up some other cases. Are you the one who painted the windows of my patrol car?"

The boy snorted. "Why would I do a dumb-ass thing like that?"

"Come on, Dana, I can make things easier for you. Just tell me the truth."

"I got a better idea," the boy said. "Why don't you just kiss my big fat butt?"

Officer Delinko folded his arms. "See, that's exactly the sort of disrespect for authority that got you here in the first place."

"No, man, I'll tell you what got me here. That little dork Roy Eberhardt is what got me here."

"Not this again," Officer Delinko said, rising. "Obviously we're wasting our time."

Dana Matherson sneered. "Duh-uh."

He pointed at the small shopping bag that the patrolman had placed on the table. "You finally bring me some smokes?"

"No, but I got you something else." Officer Delinko reached into the bag. "A little buddy to keep you company," he said, casually dropping it in the boy's lap.

Dana Matherson howled and bucked and tried to knock it away, toppling his chair in the panic. He leaped up from the floor and scrambled out the door, where the guard clamped a brawny hand on his arm and led him off.

Officer Delinko was left alone to ponder the object lying on the linoleum tile-toothy, scaly, and lifelike, except for the $3.95 price sticker glued to its snout.

It was a rubber alligator, which Officer Delinko had purchased at the tourist shop.

Dana Matherson's reaction to the harmless toy convinced the patrolman that he couldn't possibly be the Mother Paula's vandal. Anyone so freaked out by a puny fake wasn't capable of handling a real alligator, especially in the forbidding darkness of a Travelin' Johnny.

The true culprit was still out there somewhere, dreaming up a new scheme. Officer Delinko had two long, nervous nights ahead of him.

The Eberhardts owned a home computer, which Roy was allowed to use for homework assignments and for playing video snowboard games.

He was good at browsing the Internet, so with no difficulty he was able to Google up plenty of information about the burrowing owl. For instance, the type found in Florida went by the Latin name of Athene cunicularia floridana and had darker feathers than the Western variety. It was a shy little bird and, like other owls, was most active after dark. Nesting usually occurred between February and July, but fledglings had been observed in dens as late as October…

Systematically, Roy scrolled down the search items one by one until he finally hit the jackpot. He printed out two single-spaced pages, zippered them into his backpack, and hopped on his bicycle.

It was a quick ride to the Coconut Cove City Hall. Roy locked up his bike and followed the signs to the building-and-zoning department.

Behind the counter stood a pale freckle-faced man with pinched-looking shoulders. When the man failed to take notice of him, Roy boldly stepped forward and requested the file for Mother Paula's All-American Pancake House.

The clerk seemed amused. "Do you have a legal description?"

"Of what?"

"The property."

"Sure. It's the corner of East Oriole and Woodbury."

The clerk said, "That's not a legal description. It's barely even a proper address."

"Sorry. It's all I've got."

"Is this for a school project?" the clerk asked.

Why not? mused Roy. "Yes," he said.

He didn't see the harm in a tiny fib if it helped save the owls.

The clerk told Roy to wait while he cross-checked the street location. He returned to the counter carrying a fat stack of files in his arms. "Now, which one of these did you want to see?" he asked with a slight smirk.

Roy stared in bewilderment. He had no idea where to begin.

"The one with all the construction permits?" he said.

The clerk pawed through the stack. Roy had a gloomy feeling that the forms and documents were written in such technical terms that he wouldn't be able to understand them, anyway. It would be like trying to read Portuguese.