Rated G. G, G, G. Oh, what is the world coming to? A sequel to "The More Things Change..."
Hey, if people like the goat, I'll write about the goat. I'm a woman who will go that extra mile to keep my audience happy. Credit for the yodeling goes to Laura Higgins. I'm also a woman who gives credit where credit is due. And now, before I turn into a woman who refuses to shut up, here's the story.
by Katrina Bowen
"He's out there, isn't he?"
Lieutenant Welsh cracked open his door. Peering into the hushed squadroom, he sighed. "I'm afraid so, Vecchio. The goat's there, too."
"Jesus." Ray dropped his head into his hands. "I can't go out there, sir. There are some things a man shouldn't be expected to endure. Fraser called this morning -- he's got to track down some people named Jasper and Hetty, and he won't be back from Prince Edward Island for at least another two weeks. Two more weeks of dealing with -- with --" His voice broke.
Closing the door, Welsh went to stand beside Ray. Dropping a comforting hand on the detective's shoulder, he searched for something to say. "I don't want you making a habit of this, but just this once... you can stay here until Bern is gone."
Ray looked up gratefully. "Thank you, sir...."
Out in the squadroom, Hans Bern, visiting Swiss Guard, put his thumbs into the straps of his lederhosen and peered thoughtfully over Elaine's shoulder. Trying not to appear nervous, the civilian aide officer looked up at him. "Can I help you?"
"Oh, no, not at all, Ms. Besbriss. I was merely looking over your shoulder." Hans beamed at her, Alpine good will written on his handsome face. "You type very efficiently."
"Uh-*huh.* Well, um, thanks. Oh. Hi, Zwingli." Elaine shifted her chair away from the goat, who was arching his neck to see what was on her desk. He tilted his head to better focus his one good eye on the sandwich by Elaine's elbow. The bell on the collar around his neck clanged with every move he made.
"Now, Zwingli." Hans pulled the goat away from Elaine's desk. "I told you to mind your manners." Zwingli gave him a lop-sided stare and started tapping his left front hoof rapidly on the floor. Hans sighed. "I don't care how hungry you are, that simply isn't polite." The tapping resumed at a furious pace.
All of her instincts told Elaine that she should ignore the goat and his owner, and pretend everthing was normal. But her curiousity got the better of her and in spite of herself, she asked," What's he doing?"
Hans turned away from the goat. "Oh, he's just complaining that I don't feed him enough."
"No, I meant --" Elaine rapped her fingers on her desk. Zwingli stopped tapping and stared at her, muzzle wrinkled in what Elaine decided to assume was interest.
"Ah, that. You see, Zwingli knows Morse code."
Elaine gaped up at the Guard. "You're kidding. Right?"
"Oh, no. He learned it at a monastery near the Matterhorn, in the Alps. You see, the monks used it to communicate so they wouldn't violate their vows of silence --"
"Elaine, have you seen the Crocker file?" Detective Huey came storming into the squadroom; when he saw Bern and Zwingli, he stopped dead. "Um, never mind. I think I know where I can look for it..." He beat a hasty retreat.
Back in his office, Lt. Welsh closed the blinds. He went to his desk and sat down wearily. "Tell me, Vecchio. Did Fraser have some kind of grudge against you before he left?"
Ray threw his hands in the air. "I don't know, sir. I'm starting to wonder. I mean, he *told* me that he'd forgiven me for the time I shot him, but now I'm starting to wonder."
Welsh shook his head decisively. "No. Saddling you with this guy is too harsh a punishment even for that."
Both men froze as an unearthly keening penetrated the walls of the office. Welsh got to his feet slowly. "What in the name of all that's holy was *that*?"
"Yodeling, sir." Ray was near tears.
"Yodeling? Yodeling?" Welsh's voice became louder and harsher. "You brought a *yodeler* into my precinct, Detective?" He climbed into a full shout. "Of all the idiotic, hare-brained things you've ever done, Vecchio, this is a new low, even for you...."
Hans looked up in dismay, as did Zwingli. "Oh, dear. Ray seems to be in some trouble. Do you think perhaps I should go to his assistance?"
"NO!" Elaine got to her feet and continued more quietly as she began herding Hans and Zwingli out of the squadroom. "No, no, Hans, when the Lieutenant gets like this, it's better to just leave him alone. And Ray likes to fight his own battles, so it might be
better if you just make yourself scarce for a while..." She let the doors of the squadroom swing closed on Hans' puzzled face and Zwingli's bleat of inquiry. As she turned back, weak with relief, the room burst into applause. Dropping a quick curtsy, she went to tell Ray that he was off the hook for a little while.
Outside the door, Hans looked down at his goat. "Well. Perhaps Elaine was right, and we should let Ray handle this on his own. He can tell us about it tonight --"
"Why, Hans. Imagine running into you here."
Hans winced and started looking for an escape route. Too late. Frannie Vecchio was upon him before he could plan his getaway. "Ah. Good afternoon, Francesca. That's a very pretty... um, Francesca, were you aware that you're wearing the traditional costume of my village back in Switzerland?"
Frannie smiled up at him. "What, this old thing? It's been in the back of my closet for years." Twitching her heavily-embroidered bodice a little lower and swishing her full skirts, she took Hans by the arm and steered him down the steps. "Why don't you tell me some more about cheese-making? It's so ... stimulating."
Zwingli watched the two humans go down the stairs, then turned his attention back to the tin can he'd pulled out of the recycling bin. Really, he couldn't imagine why Hans was in such a hurry to get back to Switzerland. Not when the food in Chicago was so good, and the people so friendly... who in his right mind would want to leave?