The Package

The alert of someone approaching my doorstep was a welcome distraction from the daily grind. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I wondered who it could be. Maybe the Girl Scouts were selling cookies. As I picked up my phone to look out the door, the taste and smell of Thin Mints threatened to overwhelm me. An image of a drone flying away from the front door pulled me out of my chocoholic reverie.

“Why didn’t you mention the drone?” I asked Mr. Magoo as I headed to the door.

He said nothing, but the look on his face told me what he was thinking. I only tell you what you need to know - when you need to know it. Mr. Magoo then sauntered off toward the litter box. He had other business to attend to.

When I opened the door, a brown box sat on the edge of the front porch. Cool! A drone just delivered a package to my house. I’d heard of a few companies wanting to use drones for delivery, but didn’t realize they were already doing it. I took a picture to share with family and friends, then picked up the package. It was a 12-inch cube, yet barely weighed anything. What could be inside? I gave the box a shake and felt something small bounce off the walls. There was no information about the sender. The label only listed my first name and address. Strange.

As I returned to my desk, I wondered what was in the box and who had sent it. I wasn’t expecting any deliveries. After setting the box down, I carefully cut through the tape that sealed the box closed, then opened the flaps and peered inside. I almost vomited.

Someone had sent me a Ziploc bag containing a severed finger and a ransom note.

Someone had Sara! Who? How? Why?

I examined the finger as closely as I dared and noticed a wedding ring, but it wasn’t Sara’s. Maybe it wasn’t her finger. Did this mean she was OK? I’d try calling Sara. Maybe she’d answer and everything would be fine. I was shaking hard, so it took almost 30 seconds to get my phone to work.

Pick up! Pick up! I silently willed as the phone rang. Please be OK!

“Hi Honey, what’s up?” Sara’s voice was the sound of an angel.

“Oh! Hi, Sara. I was just calling to see how you were doing,” I said.

“I’m fine, but busy. I have a meeting in a few minutes. Did you need something?”

“Uh, no. I just wanted to tell you I love you,” I lied. I couldn’t tell my wife the truth. Not until I knew what was happening.

“Silly goof! I love you too. I’ll see you later. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I didn’t realize my hands were still shaking until I dropped the phone after hanging up. When I picked up the phone, I noticed Mr. Magoo curled up under the desk, ready for a nap.

“How can you sleep at a time like this?” I asked.

It’s more productive than panicking, his calm stare seemed to say.

“What do you know? You’re just a cat,” I shot back.

I needed to talk to somebody about this. Calling the police seemed like a good thing, but it might put somebody at risk. Instead, I called my friend Murph. He would know what to do.

“Murph here,” he answered on the 3rd ring.

“Murph, I’m in trouble.” I told him about the drone, the package, and its contents, as well as my call to Sara.

“Interesting,” was the only thing Murph said until I had completed my story. Then he asked for pictures of the finger, note, and box.

“Hey, Sherlock!” Murph said after reviewing the pictures. “I think we found our first clue.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“The drone pilot’s an idiot.”

“This is serious, man! Quit screwing around, Murph.”

“I am serious! You’re not so smart either. Read the address label out loud, Genius.”

I looked at the label and read out loud, “Mark. 1501 West First… Oh!”

“I’m sorry you’re breaking up,” Murph said.

“I only glanced at the label when I picked up the box,” I said. “I didn’t realize the address on the box was 1501 West First Place, not 1501 West First Street. That’s the next street over. Our mail and deliveries have always gotten mixed up.”

“Any chance your neighbor is also named ‘Mark’?” asked Murph.

“I’m not sure. A new family moved in a couple of months ago. I haven’t met them yet.”

“I recommend you call the cops,” said Murph. “This is not the way to meet your neighbor.”

I called the police as soon as I got off the phone with Murph. In less than 5 minutes, the cops had invaded the neighborhood. Police vehicles of all shapes and sizes lined both sides of West First Street and West First Place as a helicopter circled the neighborhood. I told my story to several officers and even the FBI. Each person I spoke to reprimanded me for not calling the police immediately. I promised to call them first the next time a finger showed up at my door, but they didn’t seem to appreciate it.

After a couple of hours, the excitement died down. The police didn’t tell me much, but it was pretty easy to overhear their conversations and radio traffic. The neighbor’s wife was found safe (other than missing a finger.) It turned out my new neighbors were involved with drugs and human trafficking and had stolen money from the cartel. In retaliation, the cartel kidnapped my neighbor’s wife.

As the police were leaving, an officer said, “I know all of this can be rather alarming. Just remember that you and your family are perfectly safe. The cartel was after your neighbor, not you. They don’t even know you exist. This was just a package that got delivered to the wrong address.”

I began feeling safer until I looked over and saw Mr. Magoo give the officer one of the most dismissive looks I’d ever seen from a cat. His thoughts were pretty clear: ‘Perfectly safe?’ That drone didn’t fly itself. There’s at least one moron in the cartel that thinks that our neighbor lives here…