Part 3Don't Go Home Before Seven

I barely made it out of the tackle shop before a traffic officer waved me down.

The fish was strapped across the back of my electric bike, its tail sticking so far out it might as well have been a flag.

Officer Brennan looked at me. Then at the fish.

"Unsafe load."

I nodded eagerly. "Fair enough. Ticket me."

He looked startled. The tag on his chest read BRENNAN.

I pulled out my phone and paid the fine without a single complaint.

Before leaving, I even asked, "Officer Brennan, any chance you could take a picture of me with the fish?"

His expression was priceless.

But he took my phone.

I stood beneath a streetlight, hugging my catch. Its tail hung toward the ground, dripping water onto the pavement.

Officer Brennan took the picture.

"Hey, what time is it?" I asked.

He checked his body camera display. "Seven fifty-eight."

I beamed. "Seven fifty-eight. The moment Captain Skunk became a legend."

He frowned. "Go home. Stop holding up traffic."

At 8:13, I rolled up to a roadside barbecue stand.

Darlene, who ran it, spotted me immediately.

"Caleb! Look at the size of that thing!"

I slammed on the brakes. "Thirty-five point four pounds!"

She pointed at the tail. "It's about to sweep everything off my table!"

Customers at the nearby tables cracked up.

I posed with the fish for a video.

"When did you catch it?" someone asked.

"A little after six."

"And you're only getting home now?"

"A trophy like this deserves a parade!"

Everyone laughed again.

So did I.

Halfway through my laugh, my phone rang.

Unknown number. Local area code.

I answered, and a man spoke.

"Hello, am I speaking to Caleb Voss? This is Officer Daniels with Southside Police."

The moment I heard "police," I burst out laughing.

"Wow. You people really commit to the act, huh?"

Silence. "Excuse me?"

"The scam. Nice touch."

"Sir, this isn't a scam. We've received a report that someone was injured inside your home. We need to confirm your location."

I laughed harder.

"Let me guess. Next you'll say I'm wanted for money laundering and tell me to transfer money to some secure account."

His voice hardened. "Mr. Voss, this is serious. Where are you right now?"

"Fishing."

"Your exact location, please."

"What, you want to see the thirty-five-pound fish I caught?"

The barbecue customers who could hear me started laughing.

I lifted the phone. "Buddy, get a better . Somebody's been texting me all evening saying I stabbed her, and now you're calling from the police station. You planning a whole TV series?"

"Mr. Voss, do not hang up."

I hung up.

"Who was that?" Darlene asked.

"Scammer."

"They've got some nerve these days."

"Tell me about it."

I put my phone away, feeling rather proud of myself.

Two minutes later, the same number called.

I ignored it.

On the third attempt, I blocked it.

Then Lauren rang.

There was an edge of urgency in her voice. "Honey, you're still not home?"

"Just got another scam call."

"A scam?"

"Guy said he was a cop. Claimed somebody was hurt in our apartment."

A half-second silence.

Then her voice turned gentle again.

"Don't scare me like that."

"It's fake."

"Still, could you hurry home and check? I'm not there, and now I'm worried."

"Don't be. I'm going right now."

"Take it slow on your bike, okay?"

"I will."

"Call as soon as you get home."

My wife was so good to me.

She was just too easily frightened, especially by the thought of scammers targeting me.

After hanging up, I asked Darlene to take one last photo.

There I was, standing beneath the stand's glowing sign, hugging my enormous fish and grinning wide enough to show every tooth.