The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission by Raymond Klein (good books to read for women TXT) 📗

“Oh, yes. Do you have coffee?”

“Yes, sir, we have regular, Café D’ Amour, and Café Au Lait.”

“That last one sounded delightful.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll bring you a cup.”

“Two please!”

Trent watched as the host departed then looked down at the menu and started to scan the large selections of dishes. Genghis was standing and looking around. They were the only patrons seated in the outdoor dining area. The sky was blue and there was a nice breeze coming through, gently turning up the corners of the linen napkins. Genghis sat down on his haunches and felt the hard bricks beneath him.

“I knew they would discriminate against canines,” he said, with great loathing. “Primitive society!”

“Yes,” Trent said, looking up from the menu. “And what did she mean by service dog?”

“Hell if I know. Probably some kind of canine enslavement or servitude.” He paused for a moment, getting a little angry. “You know, Codas canines . . .”

“Hey! Look at this,” Trent inadvertently interrupted. “They have something called ‘Es-car-gots Pop-of.’ And look what the main ingredient is.”

Genghis tilted his head so he could also read the ingredients. Then they shared a glance with each other and in unison, “Ewuuuu!”

“Geez O' Cow! We got something like that back home, but we sure as hell don't eat 'em.”

The host and hostess were standing at the maitre d’ station. They were both watching the new arrival through the glass window going over the menu. Jerry, their server, walked up to them with two cups of coffee and looked as well. They all could see Trent very clearly discussing the menu with Genghis. Jerry stared in disbelief. “Oh, come on! Is he talking to himself?”

“No,” the host said. “I think he’s talking to his dog.”

The patron at the table could be seen clearly, pointing toward the menu and turning and talking animatedly to his dog. But due to where the dog was sitting they could only see his body. His head was obscured by a large palm frond from one of the potted plants. They couldn’t see Genghis responding.

Another server walked up to them with a stack of menus. She placed the menus on a small shelf within the maitre d’ station, then asked, “What are you guys looking at?”

The hostess responded, “That guy at table thirty.”

“Oh, my God! Is he talking to himself?”

“No,” Jerry said with a sigh. “We think he’s talking to his dog.” Jerry just shook his head as he walked toward the glass door and said to himself, “Why do I always get the crazies?”

Jerry approached table thirty and placed both cups of coffee in front of Trent. “Hi and welcome to Le Pot Au Feu. I’m Jerry, your server. Are you ready to order or would you like a few more minutes to decide?”

“No, no we’re ready,” Trent said. He looked down at the menu, pointed and said, “Sea Scal-lops au. . .”

“Yes, sir,” Jerry interrupted, looking at where Trent was pointing. “Sea Scallops au Caviar. Very good sir, it’s prepared in a caviar sauce with au gratin potatoes and mixed vegetables.” He quickly wrote down the order in a black leather bound notebook he retrieved from his back pocket. “Would there be anything else sir?”

“No thank you,” Trent motioned with his hand toward Genghis. “We’ll share.”

“Well, you know, sir.” Jerry said while closing his notebook, “we get a lot of customers who bring their dogs out here. If you would like, I can bring him something.” Genghis’s ears perked up and he looked at Trent.

“That would be swell.”

“It’s just a little ground beef cooked well done and cooled down so it’s not too hot for him.” Jerry reached over and rubbed Genghis’s head, “Would you like that boy?”

Genghis closed his eyes and just let Jerry rub his head. He then took their order and walked into the restaurant. As Jerry passed the maitre d’ station the host and hostess were now joined by three other servers. One of them asked, “How does the cashew like his coffee?” Jerry just ignored the comment and walked by.

Genghis looked at Trent, “That guy's hands smelled funny!”

“Okay, let's look at what we have,” Trent said, while taking a drink of his coffee. He then slid the other cup toward Genghis. “Five arson fires. One of which, we’re positive was set with a small amount of Calbenite. We’ll assume, according to the local news-papers that the others were set with Calbenite as well.”

“So, we know for a fact,” Genghis said, as he took a sip of his coffee, “that Colus Valda is in the area going back to his old pyrotechnic ways. We’re very lucky so far he’s targeting older buildings and hasn’t killed anybody yet.”

“Yes, and you know as well as I do that that will change. His urge will get stronger to burn buildings with more combustibles within. And that usually means buildings that are inhabited.”

“Hopefully he hasn’t gotten there yet.” Genghis thought for a moment. “You know, when we get back to the cruiser, I want to call up a map of all the deserted buildings and the ones in the middle of renovations. We can figure out the possible choices he has and start a good old fashioned stakeout.”

“I agree,” Trent said. “Also, let's tap into the local police computer systems. See if we can get any intel that wasn’t released to the local papers.”

“That should be easy,” Genghis replied. “I’ve already tapped into the Department of Transportation’s computers for maps. The police department shouldn’t be any different.”

Meanwhile at the maitre d’ station, there were now about eight employees standing around, two from the kitchen. They watched as the customer at table thirty was having an intense conversation with his dog. As one of the servers walked by with a tray of several steaming dishes on it, she slowed down and asked, “How’s the mayor of crazy town doing?”

“Still talking to his dog.”

As she moved on to the dining area she said over her shoulder, “So long as