Sisko at a family Dinner
The aroma of rosemary and something suspiciously like burnt sugar hung heavy in the air. Kyson was attempting to converse politely with Ms. Donatella DeVille, a fashion designer whose clothes cost more than my patrol car but whose memory seemed to have been…misplaced. Somewhere, probably amongst the overflowing garment bags that practically choked the hallway.
“So, Officer Hunter,” Donatella chirped, her voice like wind chimes in a hurricane, “you mentioned…something about…a dog? A very clever dog?”
Kyson, bless his patient soul, cleared his throat. “Yes, Ms. DeVille, that’s Sisko. She’s my K-9 partner.”
lingering acrid scent
Sisko, naturally, had already assessed the situation. She lay beneath the table, a low growl rumbling in her chest, her powerful nose twitching. The burnt sugar – definitely the culprit behind that lingering acrid scent – was emanating from the kitchen. And… was that a faint whiff of… expensive, imported perfume on the guest of honor’s sleeve? The perfume matched the faint scent of anxiety wafting from the garden. Interesting.
“Oh, a dog!” Donatella exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Dogs are…furry…and…they…bark?” She trailed off, a vacant look replacing her previously lively expression. She blinked. “Was I saying something about a dog?”
Kyson Thought. “This was going to be a long evening.”
“Indeed, Ms. DeVille, a magnificent canine companion,” Kyson responded, his smile strained. I could almost hear the internal monologue: *Send help, preferably in the form of tranquilizers and a robust coffee.*
Suddenly, a flurry of brown and grey erupted onto the patio. A squadron of squirrels, seemingly mobilized by some unseen force, was engaged in a full-scale invasion of the buffet table. Donatella gasped, eyes wide.
“Squirrels!” she shrieked, pointing a manicured finger. “Squirrels! They… they’re… eating…the… something…”
Before she could finish, Sisko sprang into action, a blur of black fur. Not after the squirrels, mind you. She was sniffing the overturned cake stand – the source of the burnt sugar and a potential clue in the strange, nutty perfume-anxiety connection. She nudged Kyson’s leg, giving him a clear indication that something was amiss.
Skirt design?
“Ms. DeVille,” Kyson said, attempting to regain control of the situation, “perhaps we should focus on your incredibly… daring… skirt design while we… handle the…wildlife.”
I swear I saw Donatella’s eyes glaze over again. Then, she did a double-take and actually looked interested.
“My skirt?” she asked, her memory somehow magically triggered by the word “skirt.” “Ah, yes! The one with the asymmetrical hemline…and the pockets that resemble…tiny…squirrels!”
In the meantime, the squirrels had made off with half a plate of mini quiches. I could only shake my head and smile. This would be one for the case files, not for its criminal aspect but its unique blend of chaos and haute couture. It seems even the best investigators can’t escape the absurdities of life, especially when squirrels and forgetful fashion designers are involved. Plus, the slightly burnt cake was definitely on me. The case of the vanishing memory and the rogue squirrels was going in Kyson’s files—a classic.
Like to read another story? Check out. Sysko Gets an Awkward Hug
