“You are causing a bottleneck, Arthur,” I said, leaning my arm on his hot door frame. “The chief is already nervous about the wedding traffic this weekend.”
Arthur gave a cheerful whistle between his teeth, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. “The road is wide enough for all of us, Robert.”
“Where are you going with a mobile aviary?” I asked, looking back at the wooden duck crate. “You cannot just parade them through the business district.”
“They look like they want to see some penguins, officer,” Arthur said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I promised them a trip to the zoo.”
I rubbed my left shoulder, the old joint aching from the humidity. “The nearest zoo is sixty miles away in Toledo, Arthur.”
“Then we had best get moving before the gates close,” he said, shifting the truck into gear with a dry grin.
He pulled away before I could answer, leaving a faint smell of river mud and dry straw in the hot air.
At half past three, David was riding shotgun in my patrol car, his fingers constantly adjusting his heavy-duty utility belt. He was speaking fast, reciting the municipal codes for transporting live cargo on public roads.
