Chapter Thirteen
Papago Park is a desert oasis sandwiched between Phoenix and Tempe, Arizona. Its distinctive red sandstone buttes, tranquil blue lagoons, giant saguaro cactus and scenic hiking paths made it a popular destination. For humans, indigenous wildlife and alligators too.
I drove around the park closed signs and pulled into the parking lot. A tall, older man in khakis stood by a white truck with a harpoon pole in one hand.
Jana peered at him. “Is Ralph going to harpoon Elvis?”
“If necessary.” I parked next to the truck.
“But, he’s the zoo’s vet! He’s supposed to save animals, not kill them,” Jana protested.
“There’s a tranquilizer dart built into the tip of the harpoon.”
“Oh.”
“Relax, we won’t need it.”
“I should hope not.” Jana looked around. “How long will it take you to corral Elvis?”
“Not long.” I got out of the van.
Tinkerbell barked crazily from the back seat.
“No. You have to stay. Elvis would eat you.”
Arf. Arf. Arf.
“No. He’s not gonna eat me.”
Arf?
“I’m sure.”
Ralph looked in the van. “Another rescue?”
I smiled at Ralph. “No. Tinkerbell is mine. Have you spotted Elvis yet?”
He nodded and pointed to a palm tree by the water’s edge. “He’s hoping to snag another poodle.”
Walking over to the lagoon, I spotted Elvis’s snout protruding from the water. “Time to go home, Elvis. C’mon. Out!”
And boom! Elvis launched himself out of the water and charged.
Jana screamed.
Ralph cursed.
Tinkerbell growled ferociously and attacked Elvis, barely dodging the alligator’s snapping jaws.
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Jana cried.
Holy hell! How had Tinkerbell gotten out of my van? I held up a hand. “Stop Elvis. Do not eat the dog.”
The alligator let out a rumbling bellow and halted.
I shuddered in relief. “Come Tinkerbell.”
The Yorkie pranced up to me and barked happily.
“You protected me from jaws, huh?”
Arf.
“Don’t ever do that again. You scared momma.” I picked Tinkerbell up and held her tightly. That had been too damn close. “How did you get out of the van and your seatbelt?”
Tinkerbell yipped.
“Chewed through the seatbelt and jumped out the window, huh?”
Arf.
“How did you get so smart?”
Arf. Arf. Arf.
“I’m not Maria. I won’t die on you.”
Woof?
“Promise.”
Elvis thrashed his tail and roared.
“No! You cannot eat the dog.”
The angry alligator hissed.
I backed up a step and put extra power into the command, “Stay.”
Elvis’s malevolent gaze fixed on Tinkerbell.
The Yorkie barked and tried to wriggle free.
“Enough Tinkerbell. Stop challenging the damned alligator.”
Woof.
“I don’t care if he’s calling you names. It’s not smart to piss off an alligator.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Ralph cautiously moving toward Elvis with the harpoon held ready. “I’ve got him. Get the cage ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He hurried off.
“Jana, I need you to take Tinkerbell and get in the van. She’s aggravating the alligator.”
“No kidding.” She grabbed the dog and ran. I heard the car door slam.
Ralph called, “The cage and the chicken legs are ready.”
“Look Elvis. Yummy chicken.” A trail of chicken parts lead into the cage. “I know you’re hungry. Go on. Go eat.”
Elvis hissed again.
“I don’t care if dogs taste better. It’s chicken or nothing.”
Letting out a low-pitched, hollow snarl, the alligator scurried toward the cage and hungrily snatched up the chicken parts.
“C’mon, just one more step,” I muttered.
Ralph tossed a whole chicken into the cage.
Elvis lumbered inside, and Ralph quickly dropped the door.
I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes. Not bad.
Using a winch, Ralph loaded the cage into the back of his truck.
“How did he get out this time?”
“Water pipe broke and flooded his habitat.”
“In other words, he swam out,” I said.
“Yup.” Ralph held out his computer tablet. “Sign there.”
I scrawled my signature on the zoo’s capture document. “Until next time.”
“Hell, I hope I never see you again,” Ralph replied. There was a slight pause before he added, “No offense.”
“None taken.”
Shooting me a smile, Ralph climbed into his truck and drove off.
Yay! I was a thousand dollars closer to getting my roof replaced.
Whump. Whump. Whump.
Damn. That sounded like the old Huey helicopter my Dad’s team used. I shaded my eyes and searched the sky for the dragonfly shape. Huh? It was headed our way.
Jana called from the van, “What are you looking at?”
“Dad’s search and rescue chopper.”
“Oh hell. That’s not good. The situation must have gone to a tactical rescue.”
“Looks like.” My cellphone howled. “What’s up Dad?”
“I’m sending the Huey to pick you up,” my father’s voice was taut with concern. “We finally got ahold of the missing hiker’s family. Harriet Grant is diabetic and has heart problems.”
Crap. Why in the hell did idiots insist on hiking the Superstition Mountains when they had medical conditions? “Which trail does she normally take?”
“Peralta Trailhead, but her neighbor said she wanted to see the hieroglyphics.”
“So, you’re thinking she took the Lost Goldmine trail?”
“That’s where her dog was found.”
Whump. Whump. Whump.
“The Huey’s landing. Talk to you soon.” I disconnected and hurried over to the van.
The old chopper settled down in a whirl of dust.
Jana climbed out with her go-bag and Tinkerbell. “Is the helicopter going to freak her out?”
“Probably, but we can’t leave her behind.” I opened the rear doors and grabbed the pooch pouch, a doggie version of a baby carrier. Yanking it on, I put Tinkerbell in the carrier and grabbed my backpack. “Let’s go.”
As we ran toward the helicopter, I noticed a police cruiser heading our way.