Murray was relaxing in his hot tub when the phone rang. It was his intention to pick it up on the first ring, but as he exited the hot tub, Murray slipped and preformed an unintentional 'thunder flop'. By the time he struggled to his feet, his phone was ringing for the third and second to last time.
Pouncing on the receiver (as best a hippo could), Murray answered the phone, still panting heavily. "He...Hello?" he bellowed. "Uh...Hi Murray...this is Bentley." said a voice on the other side of the phone. "Oh! Hey there little buddy. How's it going?" asked Murray with much enthusiasm. "It's been great. Yourself?" said Bentley. "Great!" Said Murray. "I've won tons of races. You should see this house I bought! It's got about a million rooms, and the garage is HUGE!! If I ever figure out how to us the digital camera you sent me for Christmas, I'll send you some pictures."
"Sounds...interesting...Murray." there was a long pause in the conversation while Murray gathered his thoughts. Bentley was beginning to think Murray had fallen asleep with the phone in his hand (which had happened before), when Murray asked, "Bentley?" "Yeah?" replied the startled turtle. "I miss Sly." said Murray sadly. "Me...me too..."said Bentley, surprised be the sudden leap in logic. Raccoons and garages have very little in common.
"I mean, it's cool he has a girl and all, but him be'n a cop and me be'n a wanted criminal sorta makes it hard to hang out." said Murray mournfully. "I know. But we can't blow Sly's cover! If Carmelita figures out that Sly doesn't really have amnesia, who knows what she'll do!" explained Bentley. "I know but..." began Murray, who was on the verge of tears.
"Murray! Listen to me!" interrupted Bentley, "I called to give you some information about Sly. He's going to Ireland and Greece soon to investigate the Hacker B case. I have a really bad feeling about this." "Did the hacker...out hack you?" asked Murray. "Inarticulate but correct. As impossible as it seems, I think Sly and Carmelita are up against someone with computer skills that exceed my own."
"Gasp!" gasped Murray. "Indeed. I don't know what Hacker B is after, but I don't think he's like most criminals. If he's just gathering information, he must be planning something big." said Bentley slowly. "I'm down with intuition and all, but don't you think you're worrying a little too much Bentley? Maybe this guy is just another thief, like you used to be. Just making a living, you know?" This struck Bentley, "I'm still a thief! Just...not the same thief. Besides Murray, this 'Hacker B' is stealing information, not money." "You always said information was valuable." pointed out Murray as he fiddled with his towel. "That's not the same...wait a minute Murray! You could be right! Rival archeologists or occult investigators might pay millions for the ground breaking data contained on Dr. Von Strauss' or Faucett's computers!" said Bentley, very excited. "What?" said Murray enthusiastically. "Listen Murray, I've got to go. This could be a really big break through for the Coopers!" said Bentley seriously. "Oh. Okay. You do that. Tell Carmelita to say 'hi' to Sly for me!" requested Murray. Bentley bit his lip. "Sure will. Bye."
After hanging up on Murray, Bentley dialed Carmelita's cell phone with fevered intensity. Judging by the background noise when Carmelita answered her phone, Bentley guessed she and Sly were in some airport or another, waiting to depart for the next leg of their journey. Nearly shouting over the noisy crowd swilling around the earpiece, it took Bentley three tries to identify himself in a recognizable manner. When Carmelita realized who she was talking to, she excused herself to the ladies room in a hurried, suspicious sort of way. Doesn't even want to risk Sly overhearing my voice. Bentley realized.
Moments later, Bentley heard the sound of a door closing, and the busy crowd noises were replaced by the gentler overtures of flushing toilet bowls and running sinks. Carmelita broke this relative calm seconds after she stowed away in a far cubicle. "Bentley! You idiot! Sly was sitting right next to me! What if hearing your voice jogged his memory?" "Do you think Sly will leave you if he gets his memory back?" Bentley wondered aloud. A deadly, crackling silence echoed for a long time on the other end of the receiver. Even though Carmelita and her stun gun were miles away, Bentley entertained the paranoid that she would appear behind him suddenly and snap his neck for his ill conceived rhetorical question." "Why did you call this number? This had better be good civilian, or I will punish you." Carmelita spat.
"I-I'm sorry Ma'm. It's just...I thought of an angle on the Hacker B case that you might not have looked at." stammered Bentley. "Go on, turtle." hissed Carmelita. "Well.." began Bentley, "archeological societies are in huge competition with each other to make breakthrough discoveries. If they deliver these kinds of finds, they continue to receive government funding and private funding, they get all the best material for publishing and so on. If Dr. Von Strauss made an important discovery, it is logical that a rival group might attempt to steal his work. As for LinTzu, the market might be smaller, but I'm sure her work with the occult could fetch a fair price in some circles."
Carmelita nearly blew a blood vessel. "You think I am some rookie cop, right out to the academy? Of course Sly and I will be investigating the other archeological and occult groups in Greece and Ireland, as well as international groups with similar focuses to the victims! We are not fools!" shouted Carmelita. "Sorry! Sorry!" cried Bentley, "I didn't realize you were so familiar with the intellectual community."
"And why shouldn't I be!?" roared Carmelita. Bentley held his phone as far away from his bald cranium as possible, but the detective's voice still hit the delicate bones in his ears like a mudslide. Behind Carmelita's raving, Bentley heard a little girl crying; apparently a toddler in an adjoining stall found Carmelita's fiery tempter terrifying. At least she won't be coming after you with a shock pistol. Thought Bentley miserably. Nearly hoarse with rage, Carmelita ended her shouting with a raspy, "We'll be in touch Bentley. Take that as a threat." Then the line went dead, leaving Bentley in blissful island silence.
Kicking open the stall door, Carmelita stormed out of the ladies room, attracting the disapproving stares of several other bathroom goers as she passed. Go to Hell she thought as she returned to the bench where Sly still sat, the serene sentry of the couple's carry on bags. He looked up at Carmelita sympathetically as she paced in front of him, trying to massage psychological distress with physical exertion. Ordinarily, she would go for a run or practice at the firing range, but in a public place she settled for walking, which settled her much more slowly than other activities. "What was that all about?" Sly asked innocently, though he had his ideas. "Some recruit at headquarters. Little bastard. They all think they are such hot stuff after graduation." Though told convincingly, Sly knew this was a lie; Carmelita could have taken such a call in front of him, after all. Probably Bentley giving her a follow up call. Couldn't have been any good news from the looks of things. "Well, you've certainly earned the right to give them Hell. Want to get a latte while we wait?" he asked, standing and gently taking his wife by the elbow. She shook him off. "This is no time for fancy, foo-foo drinks Sly Cooper! This Hacker B has us in knots, and we've nothing to…" Carmelita noticed that Sly was simply smiling lovingly at her, drinking her rage as though it were the cutest thing since kittens. Blushing under her fur, Carmelita closed her eyes and cradled her throbbing forehead, trying to bury her annoyance with Bentley and his inane comments. "Lattes. Sure. We have a lot of work ahead of us, certainly." "Atta girl. Keep the angry face on though. You're pretty when you're angry." Sly winked as he picked up is carry-on bag. Carmelita grabbed her own and followed, still irked but also thankful wear Sly's ring. After all, how many men thought spite was sexy?