Enigma Tracer

Gracie smiled and waved at the man, prompting him to stop in mid-sentence.

Taken aback and then roving his eyes over them both, the man wrinkled his brow. He disconnected his call. Grabbing his cup, the man with sandy hair on the longish side, lightweight slacks and a tropical shirt with imprinted tigers, stood and headed their way.

By the time he reached the table, his agitated features had been replaced with warm recognition. “Jeff, dude. What the heck are you doing here?” Smiling at Gracie, he suggested, “I see your taste in women is still at the unobtainable edge for most of us normal guys.” Adding an attractive, mischievous smile, he uttered, “Miss, if you find yourself, like all the others, no longer in his orbit, I’ll sign up as your escort.”

Gracie rotated her head to cast a feigned look of outrage and rolled her eyes at Jeff. Jeff, in turn, straightening out the imagined kinks in his neck, swallowed hard and turned toward the man. “Lance, allow me to introduce Gracie Rodreguiz. Gracie, may I present Lance Pope, a man of some high ambition in the Haunted House trade. Whatcha doing in Miami?”

Gracie extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Lance.”

He shook her hand and she felt the slight texture of calluses. “I’m here to pick up my newest acquisition, a baby ocelot,” he clarified. “Since our time together in the Haunted House business, I’ve developed a passion for the big cats. I am trying to get an orphaned ocelot through customs, but the officials are yanking my chain about the paperwork. The baby needs feeding and attention, not paperwork.”

Gracie furrowed her brow. “I didn’t think people could import exotic wildlife into the United States anymore.”

Lance proudly proclaimed, “I’m the last person to be granted a license. I’ve been slowly acquiring orphaned big cats to save them from being paraded at circuses or zoos. I’ve set up a modest preserve in central Florida so they can grow and roam free. I focus on animals that, for one reason or another, can’t return to the wild. I hate seeing these beautiful cats caged.”

“That sounds so noble.” Gracie pulled out her phone and started texting while the men talked.

Jeff asked, “Hey, the Haunted House business is that good? These animals can’t be cheap, and they certainly don’t live on Cheerios.”

Lance puffed up a little with pride. “I’ve earned several awards for the annual haunted houses I’ve established around the country. My team gets called in as consultants to help those companies struggling to survive so, yes, business is good. I could use some of your legal advice, though, Jeff.”

“Lance, how about we discuss work after I return from vacation? However, to your earlier comment, what kind of creatures do you have at this refuge? Are they just big cats?”

“Here in Florida we don’t just have lions and tigers. Someone called us one time and asked if we would take their pet wolves. It’s a familiar story. Since they wouldn’t do well in our humidity, I ended up shipping them to our Colorado refuge. What begins as a cuddly fur-ball at a few weeks old often becomes a miscast giant in a suburban neighborhood. The owners typically are confronted with either having the animal destroyed or giving it away. Most owners cry when they give them up. We think our sanctuary is a far better option for the animal.” Lance cleared his throat, warming to the subject. “People think it’s neat to have a wild animal as a pet, but they forget it doesn’t fit into everyday domestic situations. We do have several wild birds—you know, the kind where they cut their wings to prevent them escaping—which thrive in our aviary.”

Gracie’s attention was divided between texting and listening to his impassioned conversation. Her phone chirped several times during the exchange. At the last chirp, she read the text and asked, “Lance, would you please try the import customs folks again?”

Lance’s brow furrowed, but he moved to make the call as directed. The ringing, loud enough for them all to hear, seemed endless before someone answered. He stood and walked a few steps away. “Hello, I am Lance Pop, I spoke to you earlier and…” His eyes widened. “Uh, pardon me? Are you saying she’s ready for pick up? What? I don’t understand. Oh, the World Bank representative provided the needed clarification. I see.” Lance cut his eyes to Gracie, who remained poised. After disconnecting from the call, Lance offered, “Gracie, I don’t know how to thank you. I’m in your debt. When you need any help, I’ll grant you a boon.” He leaned a bit closer to Gracie and commented with his eyebrows waggling, “One last thing, I’ve never seen Jeff with any other girl, let alone a charming lady of good breeding such as yourself. I was teasing him, but the offer to escort you anytime stands.”