Tumbes

When Perusina, Perusino, and Franz walked through the Tumbes fish market early in the morning, something was amiss.

No one called out prices. No one laughed. Even the pelicans on the roofs waited unusually still.

Doña Maribel stood in front of an empty stall, pointing at the ground. "Three crates of fish," she said. "Simply vanished. And this is the third night."

Huge prints lay in the wet sand. Four toes, wide claws, with a drag mark in between.

"A crocodile!" shouted a vendor. "The crocodile from the Tumbes River is robbing our market!"

Franz looked at the empty fish baskets. "A creature with taste."

Perusina knelt beside the tracks. "Strange."

"What?" asked Perusino.

"Every print looks exactly the same. Even that small crack on the left claw."

Perusino placed his foot next to it. The print was almost three times as large. In doing so, he stepped backward into a bucket of fish water.

Splash!

Franz wrinkled his nose. "Now we have bait."

The tracks led from the market to the river. Not a single track led back. Between two prints, Perusina discovered a sharp edge, as if someone had pressed a board into the sand.

Franz sniffed it. "Motor oil. Rope. Fish. And sweaty socks."

"A crocodile doesn't wear socks," said Perusina.

"Perhaps a polite one," Perusino suggested.

The following night, they hid among empty crates. Perusina lay behind a stack of nets. Perusino crouched under a table. Franz sat in a fish basket, quietly complaining about the view.

Shortly after midnight, two men crept into the market. On their feet, they wore wide wooden plates shaped like crocodile paws. Behind them, they dragged a sack across the ground. The drag mark looked exactly like the trace of a heavy tail.

"There are our crocodiles," Perusina whispered.

The men grabbed two full crates of fish and ran to the river.

"Stop!" shouted Perusino, jumping out.

One of the thieves knocked over a crate. Fish slid across the floor. Franz shot out of his basket, stepped on a mackerel, and slid belly-first across the market.

"On purpose!" he yelled as he whizzed by.

The thieves reached a motorboat. Seconds later, it sped across the Tumbes River.

Doña Maribel's brother untied his small fishing boat from the pier. "Get in!"

The chase led downstream. The thieves' boat vanished among reeds and mangrove branches. Its light kept appearing between the trees. Then it was gone.

"Which turn?" Perusino asked.

Franz lifted his nose. "Left! It smells of fish and bad socks there."

They turned. In front of them, mangrove roots swayed in the black water. Two eyes appeared between the leaves. Then a long, narrow snout emerged.

"Crocodile," Perusino whispered.

Only eyes and nostrils protruded from the water. The rest of the body remained invisible.

The crocodile swam past them. A piece of rope was clamped between its teeth.

"That belongs to the fish crates," Perusina said.

They followed it.

Around the next bend, a broken crate lay in the water. Fish drifted among the roots. The crocodile had only followed their trail.

Further ahead, the thieves' engine sputtered. When they noticed the crocodile, they spun their boat around. In doing so, they ran aground on a shallow sandbank. The engine roared. The boat didn't move an inch.

The men jumped into knee-deep water, wanting to escape. But their wooden crocodile feet got stuck in the mud. First one stumbled, then the other. Finally, both were stuck, thrashing like two overturned beetles.

Shortly thereafter, the river rangers arrived. In the boat, they found the stolen fish crates, the drag rope, and four carved crocodile feet.

The next morning, the entire market knew that the Tumbes crocodile was innocent.

Doña Maribel offered the friends breakfast. Perusina had fruit, Perusino a large bread, and Franz a bowl of water.

"Water?" Franz asked, offended.

"You already smell enough like fish," Perusino said.

From the river, two eyes emerged from the water.

Franz carefully pushed his bowl towards Perusino.

"You need it more," he said.