Cocoa Tales

Episode 12

Moaning in the bushes, Faber made a quick mental check of his appendages: fingers, hands, arms, they were fine. Toes, feet, legs, they still worked. He slowly lifted himself out of the bushes, turned and saw that Floyd was either dead or unconscious.

Faber jabbed Floyd in the ribs and he groaned. Unconscious, not dead, though Faber was somewhat wishing they both were as he scanned the smoldering remains of the high school.

"Why," Floyd started through pants, "did they all look the same?"

"I don't know, Floyd," Faber said. "For now, let's just make sure the fire department is on the way."

Floyd pointed at a group of looky-loos already gathering at the scene of the crime, phones at their ears. "I don't think that'll be a problem," he said.

"We're fine, by the way," Faber hollered out. "Thanks for the help!"

"Come on, Faber," Floyd said. "We have to contact the chief."

"How!" Faber exclaimed. "Have you seen our car!?"

He pointed at the smoldering remains of their car and Floyd groaned. "Man," he said, "took us so long to get that car."

"We're gonna be stuck in Smokey again," Faber said with a shake of his head.

Rubbing his forehead, Floyd added, "Assuming we even have jobs when this is all done."

They did. When the chief arrived he had several four-letter words for them I cannot reprint here if I want this available in grade school libraries, but he ultimately let them off the hook as even he had to admit he hadn't considered the possibility that it was a cat with resources enough to have several other kitty bombs at her disposal.

Floyd was the one to put two and two together: several identical cats, and all but one of them explode? Had to be some sort of feline bomb. Floyd got a pat on the back for the conclusion and Faber got a figurative kick in the backside for not making the connection himself.

As they were slowly walking away from the remains of the high school, Faber said, "So we're taking the city bus then?"

"It would appear so," Floyd replied.

With a nod, Faber said, "You know, I haven't ridden the bus since I was in high school."

"Really?" Floyd replied.

Back at the school a burning support timber finally gave way and collapsed, a large chunk of roofing hitting a gas vein. The metal pipe burst open sending a cloud of gas flowing quickly across the concrete. It flowed into a smoldering fire, burst white and sent flames shooting back the opposite direction until it reached the busted pipe. The remainder of the chemistry department burst white in an explosion that could be seen all the way to Cottonwood.

That is to say, a decent distance away.

The trees before Faber and Floyd illuminated a bright daylight white, but the two detectives didn't turn around.

"Yeah," Faber said to Floyd. "Haven't needed to ride a bus since then."

"You're lucky," Floyd said as a new set of onlookers gasped in horror at the rising flames. "I was stuck in mass transit hell all through college."

Marley Bean's Daily Ground was bustling. News reporters were getting their caffeine fix to speak as quickly as possible of the destruction and mayhem sans actual death and the return of the Redding Bomber. One particular reporter was breaking in with the news that the Redding Bomber had been a cat all along having spoken with a gray-faced chief of police who assured the Redding populace they did all they could.