Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I’m not one of those mammals that enjoys driving. Nights like this, nearly alone on the highway, it gives me too much time to think. How might my life had been different? What if my parents hadn’t disappeared during a home invasion when I was young? What if I had accepted, and processed, my grief in some way that didn’t involve hiding in a wine bottle? What if I had noticed that the mammal closest to me was also hurting, and done something about it?

I tend to avoid these kinds of thoughts because they often distract me from the search of my surroundings for something out of place. Sometimes it’s someone watching me, and that can be dangerous later, but tonight, it’s just a patrol car. I’m not sure what I did wrong, but of course I pull over when I see the flashing blue and red lights of one of the vehicles of the Zootopian Police Department. The ZPD.

The cop parks behind me, doing that thing they do, as I watched him in my rear view mirror. I did not, of course, attempt to greet him, and I did not attempt to get my license and registration ready. They like to be able to watch your hands, and they don’t like to see your silhouette moving, as you dig for things. It makes them nervous, so I turn off my car, roll down my window, keep my paws on the steering wheel, and wait.

I can see it's a tiger, no, tigress, because she’s female, as she walks toward me on my side of the car. I’m not sure, but I think this one is Marilyn Fangmeyer. Her partner, probably a moose based on the silhouette I saw before their headlights made it impossible to see anything, stays in the car so he, or she, can continue to run the information from my plates.

“License and registration, sir?” She asks, in a bored voice, when she gets close enough to see the window is down. Then she gets a good look at me, and her attitude changes the way it usually does when this sort of thing happens.

“Mr. Wilde?” She asks, surprised. Now, she’s backed up away from the car slightly, so she can see in.

“Yes, Officer Fangmeyer?” I replied, barely glancing at her name plate. “What did I do?”

“I was going to say you didn’t make a full stop at the sign back there,” she said, but did not continue.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked. Now I can take her scent, confirming her confusion, and a very little fear.

“No, no. I can just give you a warning, if you like,” she said.

Yes, I know this is not the way the conversation with a police mammal usually goes after they see most mammals commit some sort of moving violation. Few police mammals want to risk their jobs by appearing to harass me, and government mammals usually just let me do whatever I want.

I am not most mammals. I am Nickolas Wilde, one of the few red foxes in the City. I am very easy to recognize, and most everyone knows that another red fox, who just happens to be my sister, actually runs the city.

Also, I grease the wheels a bit, when I can.

“How is Todd Wolfowitz?” I asked.

Fangmeyer is just sort of standing there, apparently not sure what to do or say in this sort of situation, so I’m making conversation as if I don’t have somewhere to be right about now. “The doctors tell me he’s up and around, but I haven’t visited him since he got out of the hospital.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s better. Thanks for, you know, your support. It really means a lot to us,” she said, and I nodded.

Wolfowtz had been serving a warrant for something or other when things when wrong. It was the right apartment, but the mammals inside reacted violently when he announced himself at the door. Shots were exchanged, someone was killed, and mammals made accusations, as they often do. The police were understandably upset that one of their own was nearly killed, and then more upset when they realized that some local mammals seemed to think Wolfowitz’s near death experience didn’t matter. Those mammals seemed to think that the officer should not have defended himself, or, possibly, shot the gun out of the assailant’s paws, like in the movies, instead of going for center of mass as I know they are trained to do.

I knew his family and his partner wouldn’t know what to do, and might not have the ability to do much if they did know. I knew the Police Union would be mainly concerned with covering their own asses, so I arranged for expert legal assistance, and arranged for the unpopular, at the moment, cop to take a leave of absence outside the city, all expenses paid. I'll arrange for him to come back when he's feeling better, and mammals have calmed down.

I like having friends on the force because sometimes you’re all alone on the highway and you get pulled over. Not all of them would let me out of a ticket like this, of course, but very few of them would even try to pull me out of the car. Also, I have the money, and I've got to spend it somewhere, right?

“Glad to help, you know?” I replied, and she nodded.

“You drive carefully, now, right?” She said.

“Thanks, officer,” I said and saluted with a kind of two finger wave, before she turned around and went back to her own vehicle.

As for me, I restarted my car, signaled, and then got back on the road to continue my journey.

As a result of this encounter, I was a little late for my scheduled meeting. As usual, it’s a parking garage, and it’s not the top floor because we really don’t need anyone seeing us from a nearby building and wondering what sort of illegal activity might be going on here. In fact, the mammals at the District Attorney’s office would probably call this conspiracy to commit a felony.

There are more of them than expected. Half a dozen mammals of various sizes in two moderately expensive cars. I can tell immediately that this is not going to be one of my more profitable contracts.

“Where were you? We-“ One of them, an otter, started to say. They’re all agitated, and a couple of them are still in their cars, which I consider somewhat rude during a meeting like this. I’m armed, and they aren’t, but I came alone.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m here now,” I interrupted. I suppose I should be trying to put them more at ease, but I can’t help being annoyed at myself for not seeing that patrol car.

“Yes, yes. I guess so. We don’t really do this sort of thing very often, and I don’t know what to do,” the otter replied, and his friends calmed down somewhat.

“First time for everything,” I replied. I don’t know how many times I’ve done this, but it’s at least a dozen. The first time, I was one of the mammals in the background, watching my betters negotiating a deal like this.

It's clear that the otter is the one in charge, and he’s got the others here for moral support, or, possibly, because they have a financial stake in this transaction. They don’t introduce themselves, and I don’t bother to ask who they might be. I don’t really care, to be honest, and these sorts of mammal never like to have their names anywhere near any sort of illegal activity. They consider themselves to honest businessmen, after all.

“How much, that is, what is the, um, cost for this?” One of the others, a deer, asked, and got a kind of warning glance from the otter. “We only have a few thousand-”

“Will you let me do the talking? As agreed?” The otter asked the deer, angrily.

“Show me the picture” I said, mainly to get the ball rolling and not give them unreasonable expectations in the beginning.

“We’ll talk about the price after I know who it is.” We met through a friend of a friend, as usual, and I didn’t get much information beyond the knowledge that they wanted the sort of help that only someone like me can provide. That is, they want someone killed, or, at the very least, they want someone forcefully persuaded to do what they think of as the 'right thing', whatever that may be.

The otter reached into his jacket with his right paw, entirely unconcerned with the way someone like me might react to such a move, and he pulled out a photograph. I used to just ask for a name, but then I realized that most clients don’t have the name, but they ALWAYS have a picture, of some sort. I expected a grainy, long distance, cheap camera sort of thing, or possibly something cut and pasted from social media.

“We’d like you to, um, take care of this mammal. See that. That is…” He said, and trailed off, as he handed it over.

“Oh, HELL NO,” I said, and made a gesture with my paw, when I saw who it was. “That is not something I’m going to do for you.” Considering the amount of money they had suggested, I won’t even discuss it. I do have standards.

" I will not kill this mammal," I clarified, after I took their scents and determined that they were equal parts afraid and confused.

“What? That is, we want you to take care of her,” the otter said. Most of them had ducked down in their cars or tried to run, but the otter had not. “We don't want you to kill her. We want you to make sure she doesn’t get hurt so she can prove that our friend is innocent. We asked around, and we know that she’ll need your sort of help, and we were told that you were the mammal to ask. If we, that is, if we wanted the job done correctly.”

“I see,” I replied. I'm not surprised that they came to me. I’ve heard about this case on the news, and I know my sister has not arranged for guards. “OK. So how much money DO you have?”

They showed me a duffle bag full of bills, as requested. I only take cash, of course.

“If this is a joke, it’s not a good one,” I said, after glancing at it. Most of this money was very small denomination; the sort of thing you might get after passing the hat a few times at various social functions. "What did you do, tell your friends that you were going to pay for his legal aide, or something like that?"

The otter ignored my question, possibly because his nerve had finally given out. Instead, one of others said, “please, do what you can. No one else will help.”

"Well, as I said earlier, I am here. Now," I replied, and took the bag. It might be interesting interacting with someone like Hopps, and it’s not like these guys can do anything about it if I don't take the sort of risks that I might take under other, better paying, circumstances. "I'll see what I can do."

Chapter Text

I saw the grey and white rabbit again that Sunday evening. She was giving a speech on TV, recorded earlier, wearing some sort of formal business suit, and standing in front of what must be the Bunnyborough City Hall.

“What happened to Mr. Otterton was nothing short of an attack on justice. I’m going to prove not only his innocence, but also I’m going to do my utmost to see that the real perpetrator of this crime is brought to justice,“ she, or her recorded image anyway, was saying.

Someone asked her a question, and she replied, “I am aware of the so called “Bunny Ban Act” currently in effect in Zootopia. I have been given office space and special permission, by Administrator Kyubi, in Mayor Lionheart’s name, to enter the city.”

Well, that’s an interesting way of looking at Lionheart's role in city leadership. I wonder what else she might not know?

There was a number on the TV. I looked, again, at my whiskey, and, again, decided not to drink it. I dialed the number, and she picked up on the second ring.

“This is Hopps,” she said, sounding exactly like the image on the screen.

“I can, and I will, protect you,” I replied.

“Oh?” She replied, sounding interested, but trying not to show it. “Who are you?”

“My name doesn’t matter right now, and you wouldn’t recognize it anyway. You can think of me as a friend of a friend,” I said.

“I need to know your name,” she replied. “And I need to know what you want in exchange for protection.”

“As I said, I’m a friend, so we can discuss that after the pre-trial hearing tomorrow morning,” I replied. "I will meet you at the train station."

“No, I need you to tell me how much your help is going to cost,” she said, sounding annoyed now.

“That doesn’t matter either,” I said. “I’m aware of your financial situation. But your cause seems like a good one, so I’m willing to forego the usual cash up front requirement.”

“That’s not how this works,” she replied, sounding even more frustrated now.

“I doubt you know how this works,” I said. “You’re brave, but I have to wonder if you’ve ever done anything like this before? Do you know what it’s like to be-”

“I know more than you think,” she interrupted before I could say 'hunted', sounding very much like she’d said this before, probably many times. She’s probably been talking to everyone in the phone book, looking for help that no one is willing to give, at no cost, to a rabbit they don’t know. “I do know how to conduct business transactions, and I know you’re not negotiating. You’re dictating terms.”

“That’s right, and you’re going to let me get away with it because you have no choice. I knew as soon as I saw you on TV this evening, and what I have heard this evening is confirmation.

“Tell me. Have you talked to my friend Finnic yet? I know he’s on your list, probably at the bottom because I suspect that you know his price.”

“No,” she replied. When she didn’t continue, I took some pity on her and ended the conversation.

“OK. We’ll talk about it some more tomorrow morning," I said.

Then I added, “unless you change your mind,” just before hanging up.

The next morning, Monday, I boarded the specially chartered train for Bunnyborough before the sun came up. Rabbits don’t come to Zootopia, but the line goes through bunny town to other cities out this way. Cities that don’t have rabbits, or not as many, anyway. This train, this morning, would have only two passengers, and needed only one passenger car.

I stood in the observation dome and watched the mammals at the Bunnyborough station as the train slowed down. It was an interesting sight, but not terribly surprising. Everything looked like some sort of cartoon, with various fretwork. On the platform, there was a crowd of rabbits of various colors, mostly browns, whites, and greys. All smaller than me, but not by a great deal.

I looked for Judy Hopps and saw her near the edge of the crowd with two older rabbits that must be her parents.

The doors opened and my nose was assaulted by the smell of the gathered crowd of rabbits, so I got off and stood by the door she would have to use. The crowd went silent when they saw me, and then, Judy noticed me and marched over. I kept my sun glasses on.

“I don’t know who you are, but I have special permission to enter the city,” she said, as if there was any fox in the City that didn’t know that. She started to pull some paperwork out of her jacket, so I stood out of the way and gestured her onto the train.

She looked at me oddly, but then she did get on the train. I looked around at the assembled bunnies, including several young ones that might be her relatives, nodded, and then saluted the conductor and boarded as well.

I found her in the observation dome, trying very hard not to look nervous. I nodded to her, and then leaned against a nearby rail, watching her as she tried to ignore me. The train started moving and, as she shifted, I noticed something that might be a weapon in her inner jacket pocket. Maybe she’s not as ignorant as I thought? Or, more likely, an older and wiser relative probably gave it to her, and she may not even know how to use it.

“And who might you be? Some sort of guide?” She asked, finally realizing that I wasn’t going to go away or initiate conversation.

“I thought we discussed that last night?” I asked, and watched her eyes widen in sudden recognition.

“I didn’t realize the inspiration for that show, the Bunnyborough Hillbillies was so realistic,” I said before she could answer. “They might have filmed some of it right there.”

Now her scent changed to shock, and then anger. “How dare you judge us based on a TV show! That’s nothing like-“

“Hey, don’t get excited. We’ve got a couple of hours, and I’m just making conversation,” I replied. “I used to think they filmed Fresh Fox of Bellaire in my neighborhood. Our neighbor was a judge, and he had this cousin from out of town? So…

“Not that you care, of course,” I said, pretending to just now notice that she was pretending to ignore me again.

More time passed, and then she asked, “why are you doing this?”

“Oh, this?” I asked, as if I had no idea what she was talking about. ”I’m a fox, and I heard a bunny was coming to town, so I thought I’d make sure she was serious, and remind her that she doesn’t have to get off the train. I’ll get off, because I live in the city, but you could stay in your seat.”

I watched her frown, clearly realizing that she can only be rid of me easily if she stays on the train.

“They’ll disconnect the car, attach it to another train headed out your way, and you can ride it back home. It’ll stop in BB, for cargo if nothing else, and then you can quietly get off and go home,” I said, watching for body language clues, and taking her scent.

“There really is no shame in giving up,” I added.

Chapter Text

She got off the train. Well, of course she did, right? How could I possibly have thought she might not? I would, realistically, only have been able to keep her on the train by immobilizing her, and I wasn’t willing to risk my reputation that way. Now, I’ll just have to stick close to her and stop the, extremely likely, one assassination attempt, later today.

We walked to the courthouse, which was, after all, just across the square. I have arranged for a car to take us to her assigned office space later. I don’t yet know where that location might be, and I didn’t want to bother with a car nearer the train station. Judy carries her suitcase, having grabbed it and jumped off after I was already on the train platform.

The courthouse was as I remembered it. I was with my parents the last time I was here, and they had come to make some sort of arrangement related to real estate. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember that it was a formal occasion, and we wore our best clothes. My father didn’t believe that clothes make the mammal, but he did believe that mammals tended to treat someone better if that someone looked like they were important.

Today, both Judy and I are in our best clothes with suit coats and ties. I’m in my bullet resistant black suit, and she’s in grey. One could almost believe we’re here for a marriage license, except for the way she keeps as much distance between us as she can. If that continues, I’ll have to do something about it.

Inside the building, we first passed through weapons detectors. Here, I went first to make sure the guards wouldn’t look too closely at whatever it was that Judy has in her pocket. It’s probably some sort of electric discharge 'stun' weapon, and I really don’t want the sort of annoyance that might result if mammals heard that one of my apparent clients had felt unsafe enough to bring her own protection. If any mammal had asked, I would have said the weapon was mine, but the detectors are silent as we pass through, probably de-activated when they saw me.

They did check her luggage, but even that was probably just for the look of it. As expected, it’s just clothing, a lap top computer, and the sort of toiletries that one might bring on a trip like this.

Judy searched for the room assigned for her pre-trial hearing. She had been surprised when she discovered that we would not be separated, but then I noticed her scent change to a kind of disinterest when I continued to follow along.

She found the room and went in without a backward glance. We found our seats in the front to the left of the judge’s bench, she put down her case, and we waited. I noticed that the prosecutor had not yet arrived, but I didn’t mention it. I’m sure Judy was fully aware of that detail.

“All rise!” The bailiff, a massive bull elephant said. We stood up as the judge, a small lamb in black robes, strode in quickly, at 9 AM precisely. “This court is in now in session. The honorable Judge Dawn Bellweather will preside.”

“You may be seated,” the judge said to the few members of the audience that did not include the rabbit and myself.

“Ms. Hopps, I presume?” Bellweather asked. She ignored me, just as the guards had done, but I expect that will change if I say anything, so I’ll just do my imitation of a rock.

Judy nodded. “Yes, your honor.”

“Are you ready to present your argument?” The judge asked, and then looked, clearly annoyed, in the direction of the prosecution table. I could not take her scent from here, but I didn’t need to.

“Yes, your honor.”

“Proceed,” the judge said, with a look at the stenographer. This mammal was a goat, and he was clearly ready to record everything.

“Thank you, your honor,” Judy said, as she stepped up to the podium, and then on to the stool placed there for shorter mammals like rabbits. Now, I noticed that she did not have notes, and, over the course of the next ten minutes, I realized that she did not need them.

“Your honor, it is my unfortunate task to inform you that a miscarriage of justice has occurred. An innocent mammal, Emitt Otterton, has been tried and found guilty of the crime of murder in the first degree.

"I believe that a previous court determined, incorrectly, that Mr. Otterton killed his wife, Emily Otterton.

“However, I believe the evidence does not support this finding beyond reasonable doubt. There is, in fact, a great deal of doubt, and many items of evidence that were overlooked, or, possibly, ignored, in what appears to have been a rush to judgement against a mammal that has been publicly critical of certain members of the current government of Zootopia.”

I saw the rabbit pause, now, possibly expecting someone to comment, and refute her claim. No one did.

“These are the facts as we understand them,” Judy continued.

“Mrs. Otterton was found stabbed, one time. The body was located on the floor in her home. Crime scene photos show windows closed and drapes shut. The attack occurred after sunset.

“Police records indicate that Mr. Otterton was found holding the murder weapon near his wife’s body. The murder weapon was a knife identified as being from his home, probably the kitchen. Her blood was on him, and on the knife. The knife had no other prints.

“Mr. Otterton did not testify in his own defense, but the jury was not reminded that this is the right of every defendant. This is, and rightly should be, standard procedure in every other trial.

“The prosecution took five days to present their case, and the defense, citing lack of time to prepare, called no witnesses when it was their turn. This is, as I’m sure you know, highly unusual in a capital case like this. There are notes from the case files indicating that additional evidence was available, but time was not granted to examine it properly, and some evidence was found to be inadmissible.

“The prosecution presented witnesses against Mr. Otterton which said that they had heard an argument between the Ottertons at a public function, the night prior to the murder. Other mammals, also at the same event, claim that no such argument occurred, but these mammals were never heard by the court.

“The police, members of the Zootopian Police Department, the ZPD, reported that they were given an anonymous tip by an apparent witness to a violent act at the home of the Ottertons. This mammal was never identified, and no one bothered to determine how this person could have seen the crime.

"There was a patrol car in the area already, and so two members of the ZPD were able to arrive at the home within less than ten minutes.

“Notes from the ZPD indicate that they did arrest Mr. Otterton that night. Other notes indicate that Mr. Otterton was not taken into custody and transported to a prisoner holding cell until later in the week because he appeared to be in shock and no one thought he was any sort of flight risk. There appears to be no explanation for this.

“Additional notes made during the arrest indicated-”

“Yes, yes, I have seen the case notes,” the judge interrupted. “Errors are fairly common, and the court, at the time, was convinced that these errors were easily explained by officers making notes in a hurry. The defense attorney was allowed to interview the officers, and did interview some of them."

The judge then paused, looked down at something on her desk, and then asked, “Is this all you have?”

Judy Hopps did not flinch, but her scent changed from hopeful optimism to something much darker. I’m sure this sort of bland dismissal was not the sort of response that she had hoped to receive.

“I have several more witnesses to interview, and several promising lines of inquiry are still open,” Judy replied.

“Very well. Does this conclude your presentation?”

The rabbit paused and looked around the room, even meeting my eyes, in question, before looking at the judge again. “That is all I have at this time, your honor. Thank you.”

“Very well,” the sheep said. She looked again at the empty prosecution table, and sighed. “Your request for retrial is granted. Not because I find your current evidence compelling, but more because I wish to remind the district attorney’s office that it’s their job to argue these matters. Not mine. So, I’ll give them the opportunity.”

She hit the gavel on the sound block. “This court is adjourned until the morning of the 17th. We’ll meet back here again.”

Judy nodded, and jumped off the stool, before picking up her case, and heading back out the doors into the hallway. I followed.

Chapter Text

The mood for Luis Loxley, and several of his coworkers, was very similar.

Loxley was the newest assistant DA, among half a dozen in Zootopia. He was the newest because he was a replacement for one that had been fired for inability to do his job. One cannot, of course, prosecute criminals from behind bars.

Loxley felt he was the most qualified, at least in his own mind, for the Otterton case, because he was not from the City. In fact, he had asked not to be given the case, just to see what would happen next. As he put it, “I don’t know the players well enough.”

That was last week. Now, he, and everyone else in the office were gathered in the larger of the two conference rooms, on this floor, listening to a wolf talking about a rabbit.

“So, this Hopps person actually showed up, made some sort of coherent, but not particularly brilliant or factual presentation. I understand that. What I don’t understand is why we didn’t have any sort of representative, familiar with the case or not, present to offer even token comments.” District Attorney Lobo observed, stalking around the room. He was a grey wolf, very large, and not well known for anything like a sense of humor.

“Ah, yes sir, that’s right,” one of the legal assistants, a young, brown fox, replied, demonstrating his usual bravery in situations like this. His coworkers weren’t sure exactly why he apparently thought he could not be fired. He wasn’t a red fox, after all. “We all knew that no one was going to help her, and so we thought she would realize this eventually, give up, and-“

“Shut up,” the wolf interrupted. “Apparently, someone did decide to help her. One of your people, apparently. Someone like you.”

The brown fox, wisely, stayed silent this time.

They were nearly all predators here in this office, but they were not all wolves or foxes. There were also badgers and a few tigers, but no otters or weasels. All predators by birth, but, judging by their general lack of eye contact with the DA, they were not feeling particularly predatory today.

“A few stupid things were said, the judge approved the motion, and then made some comments that suggested that I don’t know how to do my job! Apparently because none of you could be bothered to show up!”

Again, no one replied, and the wolf sighed.

“You. Loxley. Start preparing our rebuttal,” the DA said.

“Yes sir,” the fox replied.

“Everyone else? Get back to work. And shut the door on your way out!”

Lobo sat back down and waited, in silence, until the others had left and the last one, a tiger, had shut the door. Then he waited for Loxley to ask the obvious question.

“Anything else you want me to know?” Loxley asked.

“You’re not familiar with the case, right? You got here after,” Lobo replied.

“That’s right, I was in Cassandra. But I heard-“

“I don’t care what you may have heard. Otterton is guilty, OK? He confessed, but the confession was thought to be forced, and so it was thrown out,” the DA said. “That’s the judge’s opinion, anyway. Complete bird shit, of course.”

“Was it forced?” Loxley asked. He didn’t bother to observe that a confession had been obviously unnecessary to win the case.

“No,” Lobo replied. But that was all he said, and Loxley wondered why.

The fox said nothing, but didn’t get up to leave, so the wolf continued. “There were some irregularities in the case, but that always happens. Witnesses recant. Cops say the wrong thing, or not the same thing they said before. That sort of thing.

“The fact is, Emitt Otterton wanted out of his marriage. Emily, the wife, wanted him to stop doing that social justice crusade thing he was doing, but he liked the attention, see? Otters are like that. So, Emitt staged a home invasion, apparently to scare Emily into giving him an ultimatum that he would, regretfully, deny in the interest of the greater good, and, incidentally, get him a great deal of sympathy from the public.

“’See how he even sacrificed his marriage?’ That sort of thing.

“Things went wrong. Otterton told us the killer came back to the house after he, Otterton, got back from his speaking engagement, and they must have argued. Doesn’t matter what the official record apparently says. Emitt didn’t call the police; the neighbors heard the shouting and they called the cops. Otterton wouldn't tell us who the killer was, saying he was afraid of retribution. In any case, the tech guys went over the house twice. The only hair and fibers were the Ottertons or the police. No one else."

“So, we couldn’t get him for what he actually did, and instead we settled for getting him for what we thought we could prove?” Loxley asked, trying to sound disinterested.

The wolf inhaled, taking the angry scent, and huffed. “Something like that. Sometimes blind justice works that way.

“Eventually, even you might learn that.”

Chapter Text

“Are you really going to follow me around all day?” The rabbit lawyer asked, annoyed.

We were out in the hallway outside the court room, and we could see the throng of reporters outside. We could also hear the noise such a crowd of mammals always makes.

“Tell you what,” I replied, getting out my phone and activating the record function. “I don’t have to follow you around, as you put it. I can leave you alone, but I feel obligated to stay with you, for your own protection, at least today. After that? You can tell me to leave, that you don’t need my protection, and I’ll leave, OK?”

“OK,” Judy Hopps said, looking directly into the camera, not caring about my recording device.

I turned off the recorder, put my sunglasses back on, picked up her suitcase in my left paw, walked to the door, and opened it with my right. Judy followed. Once outside, Judy was bombarded with questions, most of which were foolish.

“Are you in love with Mr. Otteron?”

“Any comment about the justice system?”

“Who do you think killed Mrs. Otterton?”

And then, as usually happens in a situation that is at least somewhat out of my control, there was an unexpected question just as I was thinking ‘I’m not getting paid enough for this.’

“Does this fox with you work for the Administrator?” One of them, an arctic vixen asked. She was pretty, in a lean and graceful way.

Judy stopped, looked at me and then at the vixen, as the other reporters paused. I sighed, knowing I would have to address this very soon.

I stopped, gestured Judy forward, and then turned to face the suddenly quiet reporters and unmoving camera people.

“Stay,” I said, pointing at the ground. They stayed. One of them even fell over, which I would have found funnier in other circumstances.

I turned toward Judy, and saw her glaring at me. The way she was standing now put the reporters to her left, and my right, and about four or five meters away. They would hear what we had to say to each other, but I didn’t want to try and move Judy further away. Instead, I put her suitcase down next to her, on her left side, and stopped within arm’s reach of her. I looked around at the crowd again, just to see if any one was taking too much interest in us, found nothing unusual, and then turned fully toward Judy.

“Ask,” I said.

“Who are you working for? Who is paying you?”

“I’d like to work for you, and I think I’ve made that clear,” I replied, not bothering to tell her what she really wanted to know.

“You said something about not getting paid,” she replied, in the kind of way that reporters on TV use to annoy a suspect on the witness stand. I’ve never been to court, myself, neither as a witness, juror, or defendant. I know how the City selects perspective jurors and so I don’t put myself in the pool.

“I said, ‘I don’t get paid enough,’” I replied. “And I don’t. You’re not paying, and you can’t pay, me at all, and I believe we’ve already discussed that also.”

“No,” she said, her scent getting more harsh and her body language becoming more stiff. “You said, on the phone, that you were willing to discuss it later, and I said that’s not how this works. Then you said something or other about me not having a choice. Well, it seems to me-“

I sensed movement on my left and felt something tug at my jacket, as I turned. I leaned forward, turning in place, and grabbed Judy. The knife, which had been dragged along the back of my suit coat, missed her. I am entirely unharmed, of course.

I ended up rolling to my right, and the tiger passed on us on my other side, ending up behind Judy. When I regained my feet, I moved between them, keeping my paws behind my back, in case I have to use my baton. I lost my sun glasses somewhere, and there is no way I can look for them now.

The tiger stopped, turned around, glared at me, and then moved his head slightly to look at Judy behind me. This close, I can smell him. It’s a kind of clean, or possibly floral, scent, which surprised me slightly. He was wearing sun glasses, but he was carrying a small knife in his right paw that he had probably intended to leave in Judy’s belly as he melted back into the crowd. Now, he knew he couldn’t do that, or not as easily.

Judy was on the ground behind me, wisely making no attempt to flee.

We don’t know if this is the only assassin, and that limits our options. Judy can’t run, and I can’t waste too much time playing silly games with this guy.

“I don’t know who you are,” he said, probably for the benefit of not antagonizing whoever he thinks is my patron on the Council. He knows that I’m no Council Mammal. “But my target is behind you, so you’re going to have to move. I’ll move you if I must.”

I learned long ago how to fight larger mammals. The secret, it seems to me, is that they subconsciously think of smaller mammals like me in one of two ways. That is, as some sort of smaller version of themselves, like a child, and therefore, the kind of threat that they need to grapple, not strike. Or they think of mammals my size like a kind of hornet, and therefore not something they can punch or kick.

“You’ll try,” I replied. I thought about pulling out my baton and breaking whichever limb was most convenient, preferably the right arm, but then discarded the idea. I don’t think I’ll need anything other than my paws and, in another minute or two, my pistol. Also, I don’t like to advertise, on TV, what sort of weapons I have.

He closed the distance, not fast or smooth, and reached for me with his left paw, claws out, muzzle snarling.

I grabbed his thumb, and rotated his wrist 180 degrees counterclockwise. Tiger arms are not designed to move that way. It broke, and I grabbed his arm before he could get his balance back, putting all my weight on it, dragging his arm down, and over balancing him. His paw hit the pavement as I rolled clear, and he started to scream as his broken wrist tried, and failed, to take his weight. He fell to his elbow, right arm flailing, so I broke the fingers on his left paw by stomping on them, and then I stepped away.

I let the tiger get up, slowly, cradling his injured arm. He continued to glare, and showed no signs of retreating.

I reached into my jacket, and drew my pistol, letting the tiger get a good look at it. “Now, you get lost, OK? I don’t want to shoot you.”

That’s not technically true. I want to shoot him because I know he would not, could not, stop until he was dead, but there are certain things I’m supposed to say in situations like this. Especially with the event being recorded by a mob of camera mammals.

He snarled and began to charge, so I fired, once. I use subsonic, very large, rounds, so the impact broke his skull and his neck when it hit him in the forehead. Supersonic rounds are nice, but too loud. A slower round is just as accurate, at short range like this, and far easier to conceal.

He fell, and I turned to survey the crowd, very fast. No additional threats, so I put the pistol back in the holster, walked over to Judy and extended my arm to her.

“We need to get out of here before the police arrive,” I said.

“The police? Where?” She asked, but didn’t continue. She did take my paw, and I pulled her up, grabbed her suitcase, and then we walked quickly away. No one followed.

Chapter Text

Judy followed along, with no complaints, as we walked. I could tell from her scent, and the way she did, or mostly did not, react to our surroundings, that she was, at least initially, in shock.

She did react, in fear initially, when we met my ride, in an alley near the courthouse. I had expected to see the car, and the two huge, polar bears, but Judy had not.

“Don’t worry,” I said, guiding her forward. “I can handle them.”

Kevin snorted when he heard me. He and Raymond had delivered the car, as promised. It was a medium sized, medium mammal, vehicle, too small for the bears, so it was probably driven by one of the artic hares, or possibly a weasel, I knew.

I had already opened the passenger side door for Judy, and she was climbing in, when I felt Kevin approach. I turned, and he handed me a cell phone. I knew what that meant, so I said, “I’ll call him later, OK? After I get things more settled.”

I wonder what Judy is thinking? She must know, now, that public transportation, like a bus or subway, would have been suicide, but that’s apparently what she had been thinking of doing when she got to the city this morning. It’s very unlikely that she could have expected this car, and, being from a farm, it’s likely that she can’t drive.

With us in the car, the doors locked, and the bears getting back in their large mammal sized limo, I leaned over to check the glove box for a replacement set of sun glasses. Judy, sitting in the passenger seat, nearest the storage compartment, recoiled, so I reassured her. “I didn’t save you back there so I could eat you myself,” I said.

Her scent was beginning to calm down, and so I knew she would be asking me more questions soon. I don’t mind the questions. Really, they help me make conversation when I have no idea what sort of things normal mammals talk about in situations like this because I don’t usually protect mammals. If I’m sharing a car with a client, it’s usually a very different situation. Sometimes they’re in the trunk, for example.

However, before Judy’s questions, there is one I need to ask.

“Where is the office space you mentioned on TV?” I asked. “What is the address?”

She looked at me oddly, and then seemed to perk up as she remembered. “Picayune. It’s on Picayune.”

“OK,” I replied. She didn’t give me a street number, but I’m sure she’ll let me know when we’re close. Most of the buildings in that area are very large, which is odd because I had expected Neveen to give an unknown lawyer, new in town, something dual purpose, probably some sort of converted residential dwelling, so that she could live and work in the same place.

“Why didn’t you run?” She asked, when we were about halfway to what I assumed was our destination.

“I don’t run away, Ms. Hopps,” I replied, watching the road. None of the cars around us are showing any interest in us, and I’ve been doing my usual random turns, circling, thing, with no problems.

“Oh. Because you’ve got a rep? That is, a reputation? You can’t show fear?“ she asked, sounding interested. This was not a merely polite attempt at conversation. She really wanted to know, and of course she would have no frame of reference.

“Sure,” I replied, but I did not wish to elaborate. The real reason is more complex, but I don’t really want to talk about myself right now, so I changed the subject.

“That was good, back there. You just stayed on the ground where I could see you and didn’t try to hide,” I said.

“What?” She replied, puzzled. “You think I did that on purpose? I was too scared to move!”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I guess it’s like that for everyone. The first time.”

Judy pointed out our destination as soon as I turned onto the street, and my first look at it didn’t impress me much. One tree in front of one small building, looking very lonely and isolated from the buildings around it. Very much like Judy Hopps and myself, really.

It’s a converted house, as expected, and not new, but there are no structural defects that I can see from the outside. No picket fence, so this would almost certainly not be the sort of place anyone would choose to settle down and raise a family.

I parked in the driveway, turned off the car, and got out. I headed immediately for the passenger side of the vehicle to open Judy’s door, but she was already out when I got there. That was good. When I tried to keep within arm’s reach of her, she shied away, and that was bad, so I grabbed and pinned her against the still warm hood of the vehicle.

“We’re in this together,” I said. At least for now. She tried to pull a stun gun out of her jacket, but I stopped her. “Don’t try to shoot me, and don’t try to get away from me.

“I won’t hurt you. The other mammals in this city? Some of them will try to hurt you, as I’m sure you saw earlier today,” I continued. “I’m the only one that you know will not try to hurt you. Do you understand?”

With my upper body nearly covering her, it was impossible for her to look like she was in control, but she did manage to look defiant. Ears up and purple eyes glaring. Her scent told me that she wasn’t terrified the way she had been when the tiger showed up earlier today.

“Do you?” I repeated the question.

Instead of replying, she reached up and took off my sun glasses so she could see my own, green, eyes. “Tell me who you are,” she said.

“Nick,” I replied, remembering not to roll my eyes such that she saw only whites. I don’t like other mammals telling me what to do. It’s one of the reasons I like my career choice.

“Are you going to let me up now?” She asked.

For one, fleeting, moment, I thought about leaning in for a closer sniff at her neck, or maybe even a nip, but then I discarded the thought. It’s not like I’m attracted to her, after all.

I let her sit up, and moved out of her way. She slid off the hood, looked at me, straightened her suit, and then walked to the front door of the house. We went in, but I stopped Judy in the doorway while I checked the house for listening devices and traps.

I didn’t find any, but lack of evidence is not evidence of lack. I’ll have to look again later, if we go out today.

Judy watched, looking very impatient. She certainly doesn’t think this sort of thing is necessary. I could have done it later, when she’s asleep. I will check the car, and some of the surrounding sightlines, after she’s asleep.

I also need to think about how to react if, or when, we have house guests. I don’t expect Judy to invite anyone to visit, of course, but there is very little room and the sort of guests I expect are not going to be the sort to just sit quietly and read, or make small talk about the weather, or whatever normal mammals do. The entire structure is probably only 20 feet by 20 feet, or about 6 by 6 meters. The main room is only about ten by twenty. There are a separate rooms for bath, kitchen, and sleeping. Minimal furniture. One bed, one desk, and one chair.

Judy tried to shut the door into the bathroom, and I blocked the door with my foot.

“Remember this. No closed doors between us, except this room where there are no windows, and no traps. I know because I looked just now,” I said, as she looked around, quickly, and then back at me.

“So, outside this room, I have no privacy?” She asked sarcastically. “Do you also plan to sleep in the bed with me?”

She blushed as soon as she said it, apparently surprised by part of her outburst.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll sleep out here, in the main room, of course,” I replied, moving my foot.

She frowned, and then closed the bathroom door, harder than necessary.

I walked to the window and opened the shades, very slightly, to look outside. A minute or two later, I heard the bathroom door open, and then Judy came out, along with a scent of soap. She joined me at the window.

“What are you looking-“ she started to say, but finished with “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It would appear we have guests.”

Chapter Text

“Hello Ms. Hoops,” the weasel said, by way of greeting. “Where’s the killer? Your boyfriend?”

This is Duke Weaselton, officially a lieutenant in the ZPD, and not a fan of mine. He’s on our front porch with his partner. That is, the weasel is on the porch, and the other cop is behind him, feet more on the sidewalk than anything.

Most everyone knows that Weaselton has a powerful patron on the Council. That is, he’s a spy in the ZPD, and the Chief has to know it, too. However, there isn’t much Bogo can do about it, and Weaselton knows that. His partner, today, is Patrol Mammal Marilyn Fangmeyer.

“That’s Ms. Hopps,” Judy replied. She was careful to block the doorway, and she didn’t drape her ears down her back the way she normally would when annoyed.

It’s clear the weasel wants to be invited to come in, and equally clear the tigress won’t come in without an invitation. Judy isn’t going to make it easy. As for me, I’m in the bedroom behind a closed door so Weaselton won’t see me, or not easily, anyway. We don’t know exactly why they’re here, but the weasel may decide to try and arrest me, if they see me. I won’t go quietly, and I don’t want to drag Judy into that.

“Hopps, Hoops, what’s the difference?” The weasel replied, crowding closer to Judy, still in the doorway.

“Lieutenant-“ The tigress started to say, but she was interrupted by the weasel.

“Shut it,” he said without looking back at her. She did not reply.

“Do you have a warrant?” Judy asked, but it didn’t sound like a question. I know they don’t. How could they? It’s too soon for any sort of warrant after that thing by the courthouse, and it was self defense anyway. Cameras saw the whole thing, and I’m a red fox. There should be no problem.

Had Judy killed the tiger, that would be a different story.

“Don’t need one,” the weasel said, and barged into the house, pushing Judy aside. “Now where…” He continued, sniffing.

“Duke,” I said, stepping out from behind the door. He would have seen me eventually, and the house is not large, so there was no point continuing to hide.

“Yeah, Nick. I knew it was you,” the weasel said. “Where have you been?”

Judy looked at me, and then the weasel, and then at the tiger outside the door. They had no warrant, and so Fangmeyer, a good cop, wasn’t going to enter our house unless we did something foolish. I hope Judy understands that!

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Judy said, when I remained silent. She was glaring at the weasel.

“Why? I just got here,” he replied. He looked relaxed, but I could tell from his scent that he was ready to fight. I know he likes to carry a strictly non-regulation knife, and we may end up seeing it this afternoon. If we do, then I’ll disarm him, and then throw him out. If he doesn’t attack Judy or me, there isn’t much I can do. In Zootopia, a mammal doesn’t fight cops if they want to stay out of jail.

But then, I wasn’t sure if Weaselton is a real cop because of the way he got his job.

Judy may have been thinking the same things. She must have known that her special permission to visit would not survive a night in jail, but she wasn’t backing down.

“This is how you treat the uniform? As some sort of permission to trespass into mammals’ homes and bully mammals?” She asked. Then she looked from Weaselton to Fangmeyer. “And you’re going to just let him?”

“Lieutenant,” the tigress said, again. “We need-“

The weasel turned toward her, in frustrated fury.

“I said, shut up, and I mean it. These two are criminals,” the weasel said, pointing at us. “This rabbit has no right to be here, despite what she says. She probably forged the letter that she says allows her to be here.

“As for the fox? We both know he was a mob enforcer, and now he’s some sort of gun for hire,” the weasel concluded.

Well, he’s got me there, but I’m not going to admit it. Even if the whole city did see me shoot someone earlier today.

“Can you prove any of that nonsense, Wuzzelton?” Judy asked, from far too close to him, as he turned back around. Her ears, I noticed, were down behind her head.

The weasel, apparently unbalanced, grabbed Juby, and then several things happened in the next few seconds.

Seeing my chance, I started to move toward them. I could see Fangmeyer doing the same, but slower, because she had to duck down to enter the too small house.

Judy, however, reacted first, and then moved away, reaching into her jacket, as the weasel fell to the floor, clutching at what I at first thought was a knife wound in his lower belly. If she stabbed him, that would be very bad and I’ll have to-

I need not have worried. When he started to get up and reach for Judy with the hand that wasn’t holding his private parts, I realized what had actually happened. Judy had kicked him between the legs, and then backed out of reach.

“You bitch-“ The weasel started to say, and then fell to the carpet again as Judy shot him with her electric shock weapon.

Fangmeyer and I watched the weasel writhe on the floor, neither of us particularly interested in doing anything about it, despite the pleading look he sent his partner’s way.

“I’ve have quite enough of this,” Judy said, releasing the trigger. “You can’t be bothered to even show up outside the courthouse, and so I have to rely on the generosity of a, a, fox, to do your job! But now, here you are, arriving at my home not ten minutes after my own arrival, proving that you did know where I was, and could easily have protected me earlier.”

Fangmeyer winced, slightly, but Judy, focused on Weaselton, didn’t notice.

“Let me take it from here?” I asked Judy, and gestured to the weasel.

She nodded, so I picked up Weaselton, and carried him out side. Fangmeyer didn’t impede me, and in fact she opened the passenger side door of the cruiser so I could deposit my burden. He had regained the ability to speak and move a few seconds after I picked him up, but he was, wisely, not moving so as to not provoke me. We’ve fought before, at Wilde Times, and so he knows what I might do to him.

After I put him in the car, I gave him some advice. “If you hear anyone plotting against us, or making any sort of threats, you need to let me know, OK? If you hear something and don’t tell me, I’ll find out, and then, well, I’ll have to lodge a formal complaint. You understand?”

He nodded.

Fangmeyer, who had heard the whole thing, just shrugged, as if my threat was none of her business. “OK, partner. Let’s get you to the hospital,” she said, in his general direction.

I closed the door and waved as they pulled out of the driveway, and then watched the car turn at the gas station to get back on the main road.

Judy came out of the house, still carrying the weapon, and evidently, still feeling somewhat belligerent. “Well? Do you have anything to say?” She asked, ears up, and scent angry.

“Nah,” I replied, gesturing at her weapon. “I don’t want to get shot. Or kicked, for that matter.”

She looked at the weapon, seemed to realize that she really didn’t need anyone reporting seeing it, and then put it back in her jacket. We went back in the house.

Chapter Text

An hour later, I found myself looking for a parking place near ZPD, having taken Judy to the police station so she could talk to Chief Bogo. We were not here about the recent visit by two ZPD officers; but rather, about the Otterton case, which I had nearly forgotten after the other events today.

“Do we have an appointment?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “I spoke to him on the phone last week. He told me I could see him after the hearing. The hearing was this morning, and, as you heard, I don’t have a great deal of time, so I need to see him today.”

“Right,” I said.

I didn’t expect him to be too happy to see us.

Chief Bogo wasn’t very helpful immediately after we were invited up to, and then into, his office. We were not, I noticed, asked to have a seat, so we stood on the small mammal sized platform that larger mammals typically have in their offices. Mammals tend to prefer eye contact during discussions, after all.

“When I said you could see me, I didn’t mean-“ He started to say, but Judy interrupted him.

“I promise we won’t take up too much of your time,” she said, and put some documents on his desk. “These are copies of the reports of your officers. I have noted where I have concerns, and this would be a chance for you to also make comments.”

“These are too small,” the big buffalo said. He had barely looked at them.

“I’m sure you can have larger copies made,” Judy replied. I wondered, briefly, why she didn’t simply email the documents to Bogo, but then, she probably doesn’t have his private account address.

“And why would I do that?” Bogo asked, not bothering to hide his growing irritation.

As for me, I was wondering why Judy was antagonizing him this way.

“A mammal’s life is at stake here,” Judy replied. “And the case is getting a great deal of attention. If nothing else, mammals are interested to see how far I can go before the inevitable crash, and so they will also be listening very carefully to whatever I have to say. If for no other reason, so they can talk about it with their friends.

“Now, what if I said the ZPD wasn’t being very helpful? How many mammals would hear this, and then, what sort of trouble would this cause for the chief of the ZPD?” Judy asked. She had begun to adopt a more open stance as she talked, and her scent now indicated a sort of polite interest, as if talking about the weather or something similar. Staring at Bogo, across the desk, the way she was, I could not see her eyes, but her ears were up.

“Oh, is that how it is?” The big herbivore asked, not sounding amused. “You’ve come to my office to make threats and criticize the way I do my job?”

I thought about pointing out the way Judy had nearly been killed outside the courthouse a few hours ago, but I didn’t. One would think that preventing that sort of thing was something the ZPD should be doing. Unless they were unaware of it, and how could that be?

“No, that’s not why we’re here, and that wasn’t a threat. That was just an observation,” Judy said, and then continued before Bogo could reply.

“However, now that you have raised the issue, I have to wonder why two of your officers invaded my home today?”

“Which officers?” Bogo asked, clearly caught at least a little off guard. I could smell his uncertainty, and I wondered if Judy had done this on purpose? Probably.

“Officers Weaselton and Fangmeyer,” the rabbit said. She had apparently forgotten, or was simply ignoring, Weaselton’s supposed rank.

“Ah. I see,” the buffalo replied.

“Well, that clears something up. Lieutenant Weaselton called in his remaining sick time this afternoon, apparently because he tripped while chasing a suspect’” Bogo said. His tone made it clear how likely he considered such a story. I doubt Bogo even bothered to question Fangmeyer

“I don’t recall him saying anything about a visit to you,” Bogo said. He was mainly looking at Judy, but also keeping one eye on me the way many of the larger herbivores do.

Now, I felt like I should join the conversation.

“I didn’t hurt him. I just helped him to the car, and then they left,” I said. I was careful not to look at Judy when I said this, and I’m sure Bogo noticed this.

“I may have hurt him,” Judy said, regaining control of what I was starting to think of as our ‘narrative’ relating to the events at Judy’s home this afternoon. “As I said, he entered my home, without a warrant, without invitation, made some accusations and then assaulted me.

“He put his paws on me, so I had to defend myself,” Judy concluded.

“She kicked him in the nuts,” I added, trying to sound helpful, rather than amused. Clearly, I am Judy’s side kick in this encounter here in Bogo’s office, and I find that I don’t mind at all.

There was a moment of complete silence, and then, Bogo smiled. “Well. That’s different.

“I think I will help you, in spite of your threats earlier.”

Another hour later, we were staking out Mayor Lionheart’s car. Judy had asked to see him, but had been told that he was in a meeting. I suspect that’s pretty much what they tell everyone that isn’t on the Council.

“Why do you want to see this guy?” I asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to me. Talking to him seems like a waste of time,” I replied. “It’s not like he makes any decisions, and his job functions are only ceremonial.”

“He’s the one that gave me permission to enter the city,” Judy said, moving away from me a bit and looking at me differently. “And I happen to think he’d be a great character witness at Mr. Otterton’s trial.”

“Character witness? Sure, but I’m not sure what he’s going to be allowed to say,” I observed.

“Allowed? He’s the mayor and-“

“He’s a puppet. My. That is, the Council runs the city, and the Administrator runs the Council. Most every Zootopian knows that,” I said. Or, anyway, I think most of us do. Some of don’t like to think about how the real leaders are only indirectly responsible to the people.

“Well, I’m not a Zootopian, am I?” She asked, having moved back closer to me.

“No, no, you are not,” I replied.

Our patience eventually paid off. We saw, and then spoke to, Lionheart. As I expected, he wasn’t very helpful, but he did have useful information. He had met Mr. Otterson, apparently recorded their conversations, and he was willing to share those recordings with Judy.

Lionheart promised to do what he could. In exchange, he wanted Judy to make sure everyone saw him doing it.

He’s a Zootopian too, I guess.

Chapter Text

Later, back at the house, after I had checked for recording devices and bombs, Judy and I talked about what she had learned, and what her plans were. With no stake in the matter, I know I can be more objective, but I also know there is no reason to point that out.

“So, we still don’t know who framed him,” Judy said.

Soft music played in the background to fool the audio devices I had located. When Judy asked me about it, I had told her it was soothing. In fact, I found fooling listening devices to be a very pleasant experience.

“If,” I said. “If he was framed. He’s a likely target, I admit, but sometimes the police really do get the right mammal, and the jury usually does convict a guilty mammal. Maybe nobody framed him because he did it.”

“No,” she replied. “He’s not guilty. I’ve been over the case, and the notes, a dozen times. He was an outspoken opponent of the current administration, which, as everyone knows, is quite corrupt and not interested in being directly answerable to the people."

I sighed, glad the music was playing, and glad that Judy hadn’t said that any louder than necessary. If Otterton was framed for murder, then he was most likely framed because he said things like that.

“He was still on his way home when his wife was attacked. We have a timeline from the anonymous caller, and then from the first responders, for that matter,” Judy said, entirely unconcerned about who may, or may not, be listening.

"Mammals you’ll interview tomorrow,” I added. I didn’t say anything at all about where I planned to be tomorrow. Judy probably assumed I’d be with her, but, as I observed earlier, I’m not being paid enough to keep chasing my tail like this.

ZPD never did figure out who that caller was, so it could easily be a red herring. It might even have been Emitt, trying to give himself an alibi. In that case, he might have planned to phone the police, kill his wife, leave the house, wait for the police to arrive, and then show up after them, apparently unaware of what had happened. But that didn't work.

“Yes, tomorrow,” she replied, looking away from me.

“Well, I think I’ll take a shower,” I said. She nodded and then went into her bedroom so she would not see me getting undressed. She almost shut the door, but then she paused, remembering our agreement, and left it open.

As for me, I undressed and showered. Probably faster than she expected because I heard her talking on the phone when I got done. I stopped moving, making as little noise as possible, so I could hear what she was saying. Who is she talking to?

“I don’t know. His name seems to be Nick, and he’s apparently going to be here awhile. He shows no sign of leaving, anyway!

“No, I don’t know what his last name is, and I don’t think he means me any harm. He killed that tiger, after all,” she continued. "He acts like he does that sort of thing all the time.

“No, mom, I’ll be fine," she continued. "I know he’s a male and I understand why he may be doing this, but he’s a fox and I’m a rabbit. Foxes don’t think of rabbits that way. I think he’s working for the Administrator, and just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Never mind. It’s just her parents, not one of the other players, whoever else they may be.

However, I do need to address something she said, so I wrapped a towel around my middle, and stepped out into the main room.

“I’ll call you back,” she said, when she heard me.

“Who was that?” I asked, before she turned around. She has one ear pointed at me, the way that rabbits do. I’ve never been very good at that sort of ‘radar’ movement.

“Just my parents. You know, they-“ she started to say as she turned. Her eyes had been looking down, not meeting my own, and then she sort of froze as she found herself staring at my mid section. Currently covered only by a towel.

“They worry?” I asked. I tried to sound disinterested, but I found myself more nervous than expected.

“Yes,” she replied, averting her eyes.

I seriously thought about removing the towel, just to annoy her, but I didn’t. There is something so innocent about the way she acts that causes me to frequently reevaluate my own actions. It’s almost like watching a child, sometimes, even if, right now, I’m very much aware of that she’s an adult female.

“I assume they warned you about foxes like me in the big city? How we might, what is the phrase, 'take advantage of you?'” I asked, and used my paws to make air quotes. If anything, I felt like she might be taking advantage of me, but then, I had asked her, not the other way around.

“You heard the conversation?”

“Part of it,” I replied. “I don’t plan to compromise your chastity, by the way, just in case you were wondering.”

“Well thanks for letting me know. But, what’s with the towel?” She asked, gesturing. “I know you could have just put your suit back on, if you wanted to.”

“I wanted to see how you would react,” I replied. She nodded and I continued.

“However, I wonder. If I told you that I would not protect you without, shall we say, payment? How would you respond?” I asked, careful to keep my distance. I was concerned that she might think I was making a demand if I was too close to her, after all, and I wanted her to know she has choices. There should always be choices, after all.

“I might tell you to get lost,” she said, and then grinned. “Or I might call the cops, but I don’t think they’d be much help, would they?”

“Probably not,” I replied. She turned away, and starting doing something with her phone, so I went back into the bathroom to get dressed. If Judy followed me with her eyes, I don’t know because I didn’t check.

When I got done, I came out to find Judy sitting at the little desk, apparently catching up on emails. This time, I noticed that she kept her eyes fixed on her screen to avoid another surprise, but I was entirely decent this time.

After a moment, she closed the laptop screen, shutting off the device.

“I need to get some sleep if I’m going to be any use tomorrow,” she said.

She looked around the main room, and then back at the bedroom, where she would be sleeping. “Do you need some pillows? Or-“

“No, I’ll be fine,” I assured her. I was beginning to regret my silly behavior earlier, and so I kept my voice more even now. “I’ve slept in better, and worse.”

“Well, OK, if you’re sure,” she said, scent uncertain. She got up, and headed for the bedroom. She stopped, part way there, and hesitated.

“Nick?” She said, softly, in my general direction. “Thanks.”

I don’t need to ask what for, of course.

Chapter Text

Elsewhere in Zootopia, in the tallest tower, a vixen watched a video for the tenth time. Or the twentieth? It didn’t matter. She had known immediately at what, and at whom, she had been looking. She was just finding it hard to accept.

“Jack?” She asked.

She could not see him, but that didn’t really mean anything. Mammals called him the “ghost” because he came and went with no one the wiser. Part of this was the holographic suit he wore when outside the tower, but the other part was the sort of training he had had. If mammals knew more of the truth, they might call him the “ninja” instead. Or samurai, for his loyalty, only to her.

“Yes?” The rabbit replied, more to warn her that he was close than for any other reason. He did not gesture, but he was clearly looking at the same image. “This is Nick Wilde.”

He had materialized not far away, and, as always, to her left, and behind her. She sometimes wondered just where he slept, and how she might change his mind about their arrangements. At least in that regard. In every other area, he was far more than she could have hoped for when she found him, all those years ago.

“Yes. My brother,” the vixen, sometimes called “Kyubi”, or “The Administrator,” said. Her birth name, of course, was Neveen Wilde. The jack rabbit had asked to be called simply, “Jack”, and she had not questioned him about it further.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was involved?” She asked. There was no anger in her scent, words, or posture, but Jack knew her moods very well.

“I didn’t think it would matter, and I knew you didn’t really want to know. My own research, and your explanations, indicated some fighting training when he was younger. But he lost his way, and started drinking and fornicating. This was after you and I met.

“Recently, when I saw him with the lawyer, I thought she was some sort of play thing,” he concluded. His tone had started out factual, but had become more and more dismissive. “He has had many lovers, all vixens, so far.”

This vixen nodded. She had known, in a general sense, what Nick was doing and where he was, but she had not given him much thought during her own rise to power. She had wanted him to be traveling the world, spending their parents’ money, living, far from here, and had told herself he would. Now, she was forced to admit the truth, and she had found that she didn’t like it.

“What do you think of his fighting skills?” Neveen asked. She knew her own expertise was focused in other areas like leadership and administration, but the short fight had impressed her. Nick had moved very little, and made no attempt to move the fight away from the cameras.

“He is skilled,” the rabbit replied. “And he has experience killing. No doubt he has been trained, but not in any formal academy. I doubt he ever saw a colored belt.”

“Could he beat you?” She asked, wondering what sort of response she would get.

“No,” he replied, scent shifting from certainty toward annoyance. She enjoyed teasing him, but there was only so far she could go if she expected any sort of reaction.

She shifted to another portion of the same video, this one focused on Judy Hopps, looking terrified.

“I had expected, and hoped, that no one would be so foolish.” She said, without turning to face him. “We know who sent the tiger?”

“Council Mammal Valter. General Valter,” the rabbit replied.

Most mammals outside Zootopia thought Mayor Lionheart made all the decisions in the city, or the important ones anyway, probably after consulting with the dozen mammals on the City Council. In fact, the mainly predator Council made those decisions, after discussing the important matters with her. This time, Valter had made such a decision without consulting her first, demonstrating his own stupidity and his growing sense of independence. An example would have to be made before others started getting ideas.

Jack had tried to regain his disinterested tone, but Neveen heard his anger anyway. Valter had been a necessary lover during her rise to power, but the old fox had now outlived his usefulness.

‘Jack didn’t like the compromises I had to make with Valter,’ she thought, not amused. ‘But not for quite the same reason.’

“Kill him,” she said, aloud. “And make sure he knows who sent you, and why, before he dies.”

“When?” He replied. He never bothered to ask how, and rarely asked why. She would leave the method of death up to him. He would probably do a bit of showing off by not killing his guards, and then give the general at least some chance to fight back. For all the good it would do him.

“Tomorrow. At lunch time. He and I have an appointment…. But he’ll see you instead.”

“I’ll see you again, after lunch,” the rabbit said, and disappeared, in the usual way.

Chapter Text

Later, I heard her breathing steady out as she slept, so I went outside to check the perimeter. Finding nothing unusual, I got into the car so I could be in some sort of cover, and seated, while I made a phone call.

The phone rang few times, and then Koslov answered. “Yes?”

“This is Nicky. Is Papa available? I know it’s late….”

Koslov and I have been friends for years, despite the fact that it was he that introduced me to the wonders of socializing and, later, memory suppression, through alcohol when I was old enough. They all thought I could handle it, and, so did I, for awhile.

He grunted, probably annoyed at having to bother the boss this late. I waited.

“Nicky. How are you?” The old shrew, or his voice anyway, asked. We were not doing Muzzletime, he never did Muzzletime with larger mammals, but I knew his voice, of course.

“I’m fine, you?” I asked, trying to pretend I had not been avoiding talking to him. He’s been a father figure to me for a very long time, and I know I’ve disappointed him in the recent past.

“Oh, you know how I am! They say crime does not pay, but if they only knew!” Papa said, and laughed.

He tells this joke, or one very like it, during nearly every phone call, it seems, and always laughs about it. As for me, I’m not sure what to say, so I just add, “yeah.”

“Are you still protecting the rabbit?” He asked. Having noticed my pause and then the monosyllabic answer, he had decided to get to the point.

“Yes. I said I would, when, you know, I accepted the payment from those friends of the otter,” I replied, but quickly amended that statement. “Or anyway, I said I would see what I could do.”

‘Which probably means the same thing,’ I thought.

“A mammal without loyalty is nothing. Without keeping our word, what are we? Just animals,” he said, in that way of his. He always sounds so certain about things like this.

“I did not give her my word,” I pointed out, and then paused, checking the house, seeing no lights on, and then checking the area near the car. Nothing moving, and nobody camped out in parked cars, trying not to be noticed, nearby.

“Yes, I understand. But I’m sure you let her think you would stay,” he said. We’ve talked about my generally unfaithful attitude in relationships with females in the past. He does not approve, but I know any romantic relationship with me is bound to fail, and I don't even want to THINK about having children of my own.

“Yeah,” I replied.

I don’t like this part of my relationships, but I feel like I have to leave before they find out what sort of person I am. That I’m not the respectable one that they take home to meet the family. I’m the one for some fun, maybe a roll in the hay, and then they marry someone more stable. Or, worse yet, they think they can change me into someone I’m not.

“What can I say? My job skills are in high demand, but aren’t the sort of thing discussed in polite company.”

“It does not have to be,” he said. I don’t know how many times he’s said this to me, but then he added, “you are currently trying something considered to be at least somewhat more respectable.”

“I know,” I replied. “And I know I have a choice, of course I do.”

“So, why do you want to leave? Especially in the middle of the night,” he asked. As usual, he has a way of convincing me that he really wants to know, that he really cares. I can’t decide if I believe him, or if I can believe him. But I want to.

“I. I’m,” I said, faltering. I was going to say I wasn’t being paid enough, but that’s ridiculous. I wasn’t paid enough to stop that tiger, and I didn't get the usual 'kill' bonus, but I did it anyway. I wasn’t paid enough to help with Weaselton, but I did. Also, it’s not like I need the money, and I don’t have another job lined up, so I can’t even claim I’m busy. I’m sure he knows all that.

“Nicky?” he asked, voice full of concern. Always a father to me. I don’t want to disappoint him again.

“I’ll. That is, I’ll,” I said, searching for something to say, but coming up with nothing.

And then, fate intervened, and gave me something I could deal with.

“I have call you back later, OK? Got some grass eaters spying on us from a window across the street,” I said, preparing to hang up. They’re to the south, so I’ll need to break contact, and come at them for the north….

“Need help?” The shrew asked, but he wasn’t serious. I could picture him frowning at my description, but he was letting it ride for now.

“Thanks, but no,” I replied. And then, before I could stop myself, I added, “thanks for being there for me.”

“Of course, Nicky,” he said, and ended the call.

I turned off the phone, made sure it was still on vibrate only, and then put it back in my pocket, before leaving the car and circling around to the other side of the house. I didn’t bother to check across the street again, of course. I knew which window it was.

Once out of their sightlines, I got down on all fours and jogged behind a hedge to a street parallel to Picayune, and then, to the building with the lookouts. They had their lights back off now, and probably hoped no one had seen the brief light.

Once in the building, I nodded to the sleepy guard on the ground floor. It was just now after midnight.

“Yes sir?” the deer asked. He didn’t ask for ID, and I didn’t offer any, but I am a red fox. He probably assumes I own the building, or I’m a relative of someone who does.

“Anyone supposed to be on 11?” I asked him.

“11? That floor is vacant,” he replied, as expected.

“No offices?”

“No. Got some equipment and building supplies up there for remodeling.”

“I’ll just go have a look, OK? Check things out. I’m sure you don’t mind,” I told him, walking away, toward the stairs. I didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t get one.

Fifteen minutes later, I was questioning the now bound and gagged herbivores I found on 11.

“So, this is how it works. You’re blindfolded because I like to pretend that no one knows who I am. You’re gagged because I don’t like listening to yelling and sobbing, so you’ll nod your heads for yes, shake them for no. If I don’t like an answer, I’ll let you know, and you can scream into your gags, OK?” I told them, mainly to see how they’ll react. I'm using a lower octave voice, of course, just in case I happen to be near these guys again, in a different venue.

I have no intention of torturing them, or not too much, anyway, and I don’t want them to be able to recognize me if they hear my normal voice, or not easily anyway. Most of what I’m doing tonight is intended to confuse who ever it is for whom they’re working.

“Your wallets say your names are Pronky and Buck. That’s interesting,” I said, pausing while they nodded. First one, and then the other.

“However, that is not what I really want to know. So, please tell me, for whom do you work?” I asked.

They didn’t respond, so I added, “you can also shake your head if you mean something like ‘I don’t know’, or ‘I refuse to answer’.” I was trying to sound helpful.

This got a response, mainly struggling as they attempted to free themselves, but no head shaking or nodding. I had bound them very thoroughly, and I planned to leave them bound, but remove their gags, before I left. I have no intention of letting these guys know any of that.

“So, you know, but you’re refusing to answer?”

One of them nodded, and the other made no reaction. The one that nodded smelled defiant, but the other one smelled afraid. Not much, but still, there was fear, and I can use that.

“Well, OK, now I’m going to remove your blindfold and then ask more questions so we can see what it is that you DO know,” I said, as if one of them was apparently willing to cooperate. The one that refused to answer won’t know how his partner responded, after all.

“Just nod when you see a picture that you recognize,” I said, and waited.

“This one?” I asked. “No, OK, how about….”

Another 15 minutes and I was back downstairs again.

“I tied up some squatters I found on 11. You can let them go if you like, or maybe see if they have any more money on them?” I told the guard, and tossed him the wallets. He smiled, and nodded.

“Don’t kill them, OK? If you do, I’ll find out, and I might not be very happy, right?" He nodded again, this time more seriously.

I dumped their cell phones in a convenient trash can, went back across the street to my car in front of the little house, collected a few items, and then let myself back in the house, as silently as I had left. It was just now 1:30 AM. Judy was still asleep, and I needed to get at least SOME sleep tonight before she wakes up in a few hours.

Chapter Text

Judy didn’t mention my recording at the courthouse yesterday, and I didn’t tell her why I had decided to stay. When she came out of her room around 6 AM, she found me seated at the little desk, apparently staring out the window. In fact, I was, effectively asleep until I heard her enter the room, but I did not move until she acknowledged me.

I’ve never needed much sleep.

“Nick?” She asked.

“Good morning. Sleep well?” I asked. She was wearing a somewhat long night shirt that came down to her knees, and she looked a little rough. I’m sure defending Otterton is causing her a great deal of stress.

“I don’t smell coffee…” She replied. “But then, I’m sure you’d say you wouldn’t know when I was going to wake up.”

“And I don’t especially like coffee, myself,” I said. I suppose I should have put on a pot of coffee?

“Oh,” she said, “you’re one of those people.”

She fixed coffee, we had some rolls and I had orange juice, and then she went back to her room to go over information and make calls. She came back out for a bathroom break around 9 AM, still in the night shirt.

“Bogo says we can interview the first responders this afternoon. If you’re up for it?” She asked, near me in the main room.

“Sure,” I replied, nodding. “I am, at your service.”

“Are you?” She replied, scent curious, but body language suggesting a kind of disinterest. She had stopped briefly on her way back to the bedroom, and turned only her head and ears back toward me. She probably noticed the slight delay when I spoke.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I replied, trying not to sound defensive. She nodded again, and went back to her research.

I saw her again about three hours later, while I was watching something interesting on the news. I had the TV on, but muted so as not to bother her.

She came back into the main room, apparently to stretch her legs, and I noticed that I could see far more leg than previously. She must have changed her shirt.

I followed her around the small kitchen, with my eyes, wondering what color her underwear might be, and if there would be some sort of carrot motif. If she noticed my interest, she made no sign, but she did ask about my own attire. She did not ask about the full glass of whiskey on the table nearest me.

I had my suit jacket off, my shirt sleeves rolled up, and I had removed my holsters.

“You’re being awfully casual at the moment,” she said, gesturing.

“Well, you know, I can’t be ready at all times, and you said you needed a ride this afternoon, not around noon, which it is now,” I replied. “And, I can’t help but notice your own choice in clothes.”

“I like to be comfortable,” she said, and shrugged, very deliberately while standing up straight, watching my eyes flick down to her legs, and then back up.

Pink underwear, of course. Can’t tell if there are carrots.

She noticed the story on the TV, went over to the remote and activated the sound. When she bent over, she was careful to bend her knees, not her waist, and not face directly toward, or away from, me. Clearly, I am meant to get only one look, at least for now.

“-sources indicate that someone attacked General Valter, and he is in unknown, but apparently stable, condition.

“For those of you just now joining us, General Valter,” and now we saw his picture on the screen, a red fox of late middle age. “Has been seriously injured during an attack in his headquarters, earlier today. There is still no word on the assailant. We will continue to give you information as we obtain it.”

We got all this from a white furred vixen, the same one that asked Judy about me working for the Administrator yesterday. She must have very good sources, and I suspect I know who at least one of those sources may be.

“Nick?” Judy asked, having muted the TV volume again. “Do you know what happened?”

“Do I have some sort of first hand knowledge of the event? No, no I do not,” I replied. “I believe, based on my experience, that whoever did it is very skilled and very confident.

“There was no mention of other casualties. Generals, and Council members like this one, have guards, and those guards get upset when you try and kill their boss. Funny thing about guards, you know?” I asked, rhetorically.

“When you’re going after a VIP, you first isolate the target, and then at least immobilize, or, usually more easily, kill any nearby guards,” I concluded.

Judy nodded, and I didn’t continue. I’ve done this sort of thing many times, myself. I prefer to ‘thin the herd’ when dealing with the guards. Kill all, or most, of them, and thus terrify the others. Then go for the boss. I learned that working for Mr. Bigg.

Also, I suspect I know, now, who ordered the hit on Judy yesterday. No, not Mr. Bigg.

I wanted to stop and get something for lunch, but Judy was eager to get started and would accept no delay, so I had to accept stale chips, and a soda, from a vending machine. We discussed some technicalities while we waited, and Judy managed to eat half my chips.

“So,” she said, brushing some crumbs off her jacket. “I’ll interview both of them, first one and then the other. I’ll ask the same questions. There will be two different rooms because a tiger sized interrogation room is not suitable for questioning a weasel.”

“Interrogation?” I asked. “I thought the cops were supposed to be the good guys, or something?”

She looked at my oddly when I said this, but I pretended not to notice.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll dialogue with them in the special meeting rooms with the attachments for handcuffs, which we will not be using, and the one way mirrors, that have nothing to do with interrogations, if that makes you feel better.

“I assume you’ll stand nearby and play bad cop to my good cop?” She asked, and then made some sort of air quotes gesture with her fingers. “Do that whole, ‘I’m a badass’ thing you like to do?”

“I’m a badass?” I replied, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. “Do you think it’s an act?”

“No, but I think you look like you’re trying too hard when you’re doing that,” she said.

“I feel like I have to,” I replied. "Not everyone knows what I do for a living."

“People have TV’s, you know,” she said, as one of the cops gestured to let us know the first room, with the weasel, was ready for the interview, or whatever it was.

Lt. Weaselton did not look, or smell, happy to be here, but Judy either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

“For the record, I am Judy Hopps, and I am interviewing Lieutenant Duke Weaselton, ZPD,” she said. “This interview is being conducted at ZPD headquarters, downtown, in room 201, and recorded.”

Judy was seated across from Duke, and I was standing near the door, to Judy’s left. The camera was centered on the weasel.

“Let’s get this over with. I’ve got a sick day to get back to,” Duke said. He was shifting in his chair slightly, trying to get comfortable.

I remembered what Judy said earlier, so I said, “how are the balls, Duke?”

He glared at me, but made no move to get up. I could smell his frustration. For her part, Judy smelled very calm.

“Lieutenant? Please tell us what you remember about the day you, and your partner, Officer Fangmeyer, responded to the call about a possible violent altercation at the home of the Ottertons,” Judy said. She had been looking down, at her notes, but now she looked up at Duke, expectantly.

“We got there about five minutes after the call came in. We were nearby, at a gas station, refueling the vehicle. When we got to the house, I smelled blood, and decided to go in first, both because I’m smaller and because I’m a senior officer. I saw Mr. Otterton standing near his wife, with the knife, and his wife on the floor, still alive and bleeding. He must have just done it. I arrested him.

“What else is there to tell?” He concluded, having sounded very much like he was making a rehearsed speech. “It’s all in the report.”

“Do you always go in first, when the house belongs to a mammal your size?”

“Yeah, usually,” he replied, quickly.

“Do you know that I checked the records, and this was the first time, on an official call, that you went in a house before your partner?” Judy asked. She cocked her head at the weasel, daring him to disagree, or comment on the unofficial visit to Picayune yesterday. He didn’t.

“I didn’t think about it. I guess I usually let my partner go first,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “Fangmeyer likes to go first, to intimidate anyone that might be thinking about resisting.”

“How did you feel, when you got to the house?” Judy asked. She had made a short note on a legal pad.

“Feel? I’m a cop. We’re trained to do our jobs, and not let our feelings get in the way.”

“Did you feel sorry for Ms. Otterton when you saw her, bleeding on the floor?” She asked.

The weasel paused, apparently realizing that he might have made a mistake. “I guess I felt sorrow, sure,” he said.

An hour later, after Judy had concluded her interview with Weaselton, she and I moved to a larger room, and interviewed the other officer involved that day. This was Officer Fangmeyer, a tigress.

“For the record, I am Judy Hopps, and I am interviewing Patrol mammal Marilyn Fangmeyer, ZPD,” she said. “This interview is being conducted at ZPD headquarters, downtown, in room 207, and recorded.”

The rabbit was seated, in a smaller chair, across from the tigress in a larger chair, and I was again standing near the door, to Judy’s left. The chairs and table were arranged so that the rabbit and the tiger were both at eye level. The camera was centered on the big cat. She looked very sharp, and presentable. She smelled somewhat determined, and not frustrated or angry at all.

“I’ll help in any way I can,” the tigress said.

“Officer? Please tell us what you remember about the day you, and your partner, Duke Weaselton, responded to the call about a possible violent altercation at the home of the Ottertons,” Judy said. She had been looking down, at her notes, but now she looked up at Fangmeyer, expectantly.

“We got there at 8:05 PM, having received the call at 7:55 PM….”

Chapter Text

“Well, that was interesting,” Judy observed, in the car, that evening.

Both interviews had had the same questions, and Judy had intentionally surprised both officers to pull them off script. That is, if they were following a script. I think Weaselton was, but not Fangmeyer. She just wanted to help, even if she did make a mistake and say she now wasn’t sure exactly where the knife was when she first saw Otterton. As a carnivore, all that blood had certainly been a major distraction.

As I drove, Judy thought about what we had heard, and worked through it out loud.

“So, Weaselton and Fangmeyer are at a gas station in the area when they get the call. Weaselton is inside, and Fang is in the car. Weaselton comes out of the station, gets in the car, and they head to the house, sirens off and not moving fast because they don’t want to endanger any civilians. At this point, they don’t know what happened. The call just says loud arguing.

“They arrive, minutes later, to find the front door closed, but Weaselton says he can smell blood inside. Fang knocks down the door, and then Weaselton offers to go in first,” Judy continued.

“Which he never does,” I replied, just to show I was still listening. “No surprise. We know he’s not in the ZPD to ‘protect and serve’.”

Judy sighed. “No, not likely.

“Weaselton says the knife was already in Otterton’s hand when he, Weaselton, first saw him, standing over the body of his wife, apparently dead on the floor. Of course, we know from the smart watch she wore that she wasn’t dead yet, not quite. Her body was probably in shock from blood loss because she had only very recently been stabbed.

“Fang calls for an ambulance, checks Mrs. Otterson for signs of life, and tries to control the bleeding. Mr. Otterton offers no resistance, and so they arrest him, but apparently don’t take him to the station, for some reason,” Judy said, thinking.

"She said she didn't smell an intruder, or any sort of scent block," I added. "Not that this tells us much. The blood might have masked any other smell."

Judy nodded, and I continued, “probably Emitt went to the hospital with his wife’s body." I was just making conversation. I don’t really know much about what happens after someone gets killed because I don’t hang around, and I don't fully understand why Fang didn't smell anyone else because I never kill with a knife like that. It's too personal, and scent tends to linger.

Now that I think about it, I won’t take a contract to kill someone like Mrs. Otterton. A contract for Mr. Otterton? Maybe. The wife that had nothing to do with his political activities annoying the wrong people in power? No.

Judy was silent a short time, thinking, and then she noticed where we were.

“Nick, where are we going?” She asked, stretching in the passenger seat, trying to see all the various directional markers. I’m not using my GPS, so she can’t just look at the digital map.

“Ah, well,” I said, trying not to sound too forceful. “I was thinking that you might like some good food at a place I know. Live music. Predator and prey. I know the owner.”

“Is this?” Judy asked, and then continued. “Are you taking me on a date, Nick?”

“Would you like me to take you on a date?” I replied.

“Love to,” she said, and relaxed back into her seat.

When we got there, after we parked, she followed me to the entrance, which was not very impressive. It’s just a neon sign of a martini glass, actually, and Judy hesitated until I walked ahead of her and opened the door.

We went down the stairs, and then into the common area.

For me, it was very familiar because I had been here many times. For Judy, I’m sure it was somewhat more exciting, perhaps, because it was all new. Rocky playing the piano. Mostly predators lined up at the bar, as usual. Some prey, of course, scattered around, at tables. Some couples actually dancing.

I tipped Rocky, as usual, and made eye contact with the sea otter owner. He grabbed two menus, and so I simply guided Judy to my usual booth, currently empty.

The menus, and then drinking water, and the usual glass of whiskey for me, were put on the table after we sat down, Judy on her side, and me on mine. I guided her to sit first because I like to sit where I can see the door, and I didn’t want Judy to accidently take my spot.

“And who do we have here?” Locklan, the otter, asked. With his accent, it actually sounded like ‘ou do w ave ere?’

Judy was absolutely charmed. “I am Ms. Judy Hopps, currently in town to defend Mr. Otterton.”

“Ah. Nasty business, that,” Lock replied, as we looked at the menus, and then back at him. “However, I know you didn’t come here to talk to ME, so I’ve leave you alone for a wee bit.”

“Thanks,” Judy said, as he left.

“Wow,” she said, to me. “Nice place! Certainly not what I expected.”

“Yeah. Not sure when I found it. Probably met someone here,” I replied. That is, one of my contracts probably arranged to meet me here, having given me the address, thinking this was the sort of place that people like me frequent.

“So, you come here often?” She asked, playfully.

“I was not expecting a pickup line so soon after we sat down, but, yes, I do come here as often as I can.”

She gestured. “Water for me and whiskey for you?” She asked, still playfully. Ears up and scent amused.

“Ah, yeah. About that,” I said, and picked up the glass, admiring the amber liquid within. The scent, as usual, is more than merely intoxicating. It’s like a kind of heaven, but not the kind that I can have, of course. “I’m an alcoholic, Ms. Hopps.”

“What?” She replied, no longer playful. “Then why-“

I shrugged. “It’s just a reminder to myself. That I control it. It does not control me. I did not drink yesterday, and I will not drink today.”

Judy wasn’t’ sure what to say next. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know-“

I waved away her apology. “Not your fault, not necessary for you to apologize. It was my mistake, years ago,” I said.

Lock, possibly aware of the way our conversation had gone, returned, and we ordered food.

“Mind if I ask you a question?” She asked when we were alone again.

“You just did, you know,” I replied.

“OK, so another question?”

“I don’t really want to talk about the alcoholism thing. It’s old news for me,” I said.

“OK, so, why did you bring me here, really?” she asked. “If you say ‘to eat’ I may throw water in your face.”

“Hah. Well, OK.

“I’m. I’m sorry I surprised you with the towel yesterday. It was rude, and I don’t want you to think that I’m that kind of mammal.”

“That kind?” She asked, and used her paws to make air quotes. “As I recall, I did something similar to you this morning. Or did you notice?”

“You know I did,” I replied.

“What would you like to do about it?” She asked, curious. Ears up again, and scent intent.

"Let’s just see what happens, OK?” I replied. "We've known each other only a few days, after all."

Food arrived. Fish for me and a vegetarian sheppard’s pie for her. The food was, as always, excellent, and I found Judy's company enjoyable.

“Nick. Do you still want to leave?” she asked. “As I recall, you’re not being paid enough.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not, but I don’t want to leave.” I nearly admitted how much I was enjoying myself, which is a certain sign that I can’t keep doing it.

Here I am, just like a normal mammal, with a normal nine to five sort of job at an office somewhere, a mortgage that I may never pay off, and possibly some sort of gym membership, maybe? Maybe I’ll even get a sports car, join a country club, and lie about my golf scores…..

I had my paws on the table. Judy must have noticed my darkened mood, because she put one of her paws on one of mine. Not sure how to respond, I pulled my paw back, after a moment.

“So, I was thinking. You need to know everything you can to prove Otterton is innocent, right? I know a guy that knows pretty much everything. I can take you to meet him, tonight, if you like?”

Judy paused and took a bite of food, obviously thinking. “Sure,” she said. “But don’t think we won’t come back to that other topic.”

Chapter Text

It’s been a busy couple of days since I met the rabbit. Things keep happening. I suppose I wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s dark when we get to our destination, but it’s easy to see where we are. Not that it’s a good thing.

“The DMV? Why did you bring me here?” Judy asked, annoyed, and then she used her paws to make air quotes. “Are we meeting your ‘friend’ or not?”

“We are. He sort of lives here, or, more properly, under here,” I replied.

Judy just shook her head, but then followed along, as I led her around the side of the building. The front doors are locked of course. I don’t think she noticed the way the exterior cameras moved to track us.

Arriving at a particular square of sidewalk, I put a paw on Judy’s arm to stop her in place as she looks a question at me.

“Just wait,” I said.

“Greetings,” a voice says out of, apparently, nowhere. Or it seems that way to me, but Judy’s ears radar in on the source of the sound. I turn toward the speaker.

“Yes, that’s the speaker. I assume you wish to join me, so please just stay where you are and don’t make sudden moves,” the voice continues.

The concrete square starts to move, down, and Judy flinches very slightly, but doesn’t grab my arm for support. I’ve been here before, so I know what to expect.

The area is lighted. Another section of sidewalk, above us, slides into place before we reach the bottom of the shaft, probably 30 or so feet down. I never measured it.

We stop after a minute or so, clearly moving more slowly than an elevator. I think this has to do with our host’s generally slow way of doing things, but I’m not sure. I do know that he tends to like fast cars for some reason. Maybe it’s a status symbol?

In any case, we see him at the far end of a hallway after we stop. The sloth, greets us in the usual way common to his species. The voice is the same as the one from the speaker, but much slower.

“How. Do. You. Do? Nick. And. Ms. Hopps?” Flash asks. Slowly, very slowly.

Judy isn’t sure what to do, so I step forward and she follows at first, but then walks by my side.

“Hey Flash,” I said, upon reaching him, and then we waited for him to finish his greeting.

“Hello,” Judy says, clearly not sure what to say next.

“I’m great,” I reply in answer to his question, as he turns around and walks, slowly, back toward what I can only think of as his control center. It’s got a desk with various symbols and a chair, and is located in the middle of the room.

The room we’re in now is under the DMV, based on the direction we walked after the elevator stopped moving. The ceiling is at normal height above us, or normal for sloths anyway, and comfortable for rabbits and foxes. It’s not large enough for elephants of hippos, however, so I expect Flash meets those clients virtually.

On entire wall is occupied by video displays, and there are computers apparently everywhere else. Some have flashing lights, and some do not. Some have randomly spinning magnetic taps for storage, or more likely, just the look of it. I expect Flash has been here a long time, and he hates to throw out his older equipment when he does an upgrade.

Behind his desk now, he touches a button and his voice is now at normal, for us, speed. “What can I do for you? Or, more likely,” he says, turning from me to Judy. “What can I do for Ms. Hopps?”

“How does it know what to say when-“ Judy starts to ask, but Flash interrupts her.

“Think of it as a kind of dialogue AI, if you will. It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Flashes voice replies, again after only one touch of a button.

“We’d like more information about the Otterton case,” I said, when Judy didn’t reply.

“Do you? Would you?” He replied. “I know quite a bit about the case, and I’m fairly sure some of it could be distressing.”

That’s interesting. Not the part about Flash knowing everything, but the part about distressing. I’ve gotten information from him half a dozen times. He always gives me a short preview, and he never tells me anything irrelevant.

“I want to know,” Judy said. “Please don’t think of me as some sort of babe in the woods. I can handle the truth.”

“Very well,” Flash says, and gestures. “Use the keyboard, or speaker, to feed in information. The system will automatically sort and assemble relevant data.”

Judy started typing, and some of the wall monitors started displaying information. Not much at first, but then more and more, and then, after a few minutes, new data stopped coming.

It was too much for me to process immediately, of course, but I did see a few items of interest. Some videos. One was a video of a gas station, showing what appeared to be a police cruiser. Another was a video of Otterton in his cell, staring at the wall.

There were pictures, and I could see the titles of some audio files. One picture was certainly a copy of my receipt for my current bullet resistant suit. Another showed a dead, apparently military, fox, slumped over his desk. Another showed some sort of ghostly outline against what must have been some sort of interior wall somewhere. The files had various names and abbreviations, including ‘dbel’ and ‘eott. I had no clue what those might be.

“Wow,” Judy said, having watched the same monitors. “That’s really impressive. I’ve seen all the court documents, and very few of this was included! Where do you get it?”

“No, Ms. Hopps,” Flash replied. “I won’t tell you my secrets, but I will tell you that you’re getting the raw ‘take’, with no commentary or modification. It’s very unlike you’ll see on the evening news, but, some of this was filmed by news camera mammals, and then discarded as insufficiently interesting.”

“I’m not sure, but I THINK,” I said to Judy, emphasizing the word. “ That Flash gets his best, or maybe most, of his information by hacking into the major TV networks.”

“And surveillance cameras, apparently,” Judy observed, a bit tart. In response, Flash didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed.

“On the subject of video surveillance, please have a look at the third monitory down, on the far right side,” Flash said. He didn’t gesture this time. “That’s the real time image from outside the DMV, above us.”

“Damnit,” I said.

“What?” Judy asked, clearly unsure what she was looking at, or if she was seeing the same thing I was seeing.

I pointed at the image. “We’ve got company. Remember the parking lot was empty when we got here.”

“When?” I asked.

Flash didn’t respond, but the camera panned over to show three wolves, or possibly jackels, around our car. They were all wearing the same color and type of tactical gear and carrying submachine guns. That is, two carried machine guns, and the third had a pistol.

“I assume they aren’t friends of yours?” Flash asked. There was no indication of amusement in his voice now.

“Never met them,” I replied. “Flash? I assume you’ll send me the data in the usual way?”

He nodded, so I continued.

“Judy? I’m going to talk to our guests and explain the importance of minding one’s own business.”

“Don’t kill them!” She said.

“Don’t-“, I started to say, and then stopped. Right. She is familiar with the ways of law, which does not involve the death of your opponent. Instead, you just sue and try to make them look bad in court. This is what it means to be civilized, after all. As for me, I prefer to fight my battles with guns and knives, and I expect these intruders would feel the same.

“How would you like me to handle this?” I asked, trying not to sound too sarcastic. Probably failing. “Maybe I could try reasoning with them, but I’m not sure they’re interested in listening. And they’ll probably start shooting very soon after I initiate any sort of dialogue, peaceful intent or not.”

Judy didn’t reply, and I didn’t bother looking to Flash for help. He was, no doubt, recording our interaction this evening, and might even have a buyer for it, so I tried not to think about that.

“Fine,” I said, or started to, anyway.

“Please have a look at the same monitor,” Flash said, sounding more urgent now.

We looked, but the monitor went dead, and then another one. Flash finally got us a real time picture out of the exterior, apparently from a camera down the street, but the quality was bad.

We saw what seemed to be some sort of very odd looking fight. The wolves, or whatever, were struggling with… something. I could not tell what, but the wolves were certainly losing. First one, and then another and then the last one, froze, stumbled a bit, and then fell. We couldn’t see enough detail to know how, exactly, and there was no sound. I didn’t think they’d been shot or hit very hard, however. It looked like they were killed by an edged weapon, like a sword or knife, but we couldn't see the swords mammal.

Chapter Text

“And just who are you?” I asked, but he didn’t reply. It’s probably a male. I haven’t asked, of course, but the shoulders appear broader than the hips, so I’m thinking XY chromosomes.

He’s got what looks like some sort of sword on his back, and a purple scarf around his neck and lower face, but the ears are a dead give away as to his species. He’s a hare, or possibly a jack rabbit. There is no scent, so he must be using some sort of neutralizer.

I had taken the elevator up to find and confront the swords mammal, leaving Flash and Judy downstairs to listen in on our conversation through the many hidden microphones.

I had not seen the intruder, at first, but the rabbit saw me, and then stepped out of cover. At that point, I could still only see his silhouette, so he turned off his camouflage generator, apparently by slapping his chest with one arm. I wish I had one of those things!

After my question is ignored, I try moving closer to him, and he starts circling, moving to my right. He keeps his face down, but I know he’s listening to my heart beat, waiting for me to tense up and then attack.

“Why did you kill those jackals?” I asked him.

He doesn’t even shrug, but keeps moving, now between me and the DMV entrance. He must have seen me come up, but he makes no move to investigate from where I came.

“Do you ever shut up?” I asked him, mainly to see what sort of reaction I might get. This is the sort of thing he should have said, after all.

Again, no reply, so I start to cut inside the circle, making our meeting inevitable. He does not shift his own path, at first.

And then, suddenly, he does.

When he comes at me, I can tell he knows what he’s doing by the way he places his feet, and the direction of his torso. The feet are not carelessly placed, but each is exactly where he wants it. His body, and his head, stay level. When he attacks, he does not strike directly at me, probably because he knows I’ll dodge, but instead he seems to be trying to confuse me by throwing punches toward my head, or he’s anticipating where I might move. There are no kicks as I retreat. I lock up one of his arms, and try to throw him.

Now he jumps, using his clearly stronger leg muscles, and I find myself, very briefly, without an exact location for him. I know what comes next, having been on the receiving end of this sort of attack in the past, and so I duck. I feel, more than really see, his foot pass through the area where my head had been.

I dive and roll away from him, and he does not pursue.

Getting up, we face off again. “You missed,” I inform him.

“This time,” he says. His voice is somewhat low, and not loud at all. Very much an alto, not a soprano. Again, probably a male. His hands didn’t move when he talked.

He waits, and so, this time, I attack.

I don’t want to show him my best trick so soon in what is clearly, to him anyway, some sort of sparring session. With that in mind, I come right at him, using a frontal attack, and apparently try, again, to grapple because he’ll probably expect it.

He deflects, but does not fall back, and so I actively try to hit him, moving faster and faster, until one of my strikes does get through. He grunts, and steps back. Remembering his earlier response to my own retreat, I let him have his space.

“They were in the way,” he says, and it takes me a moment to figure out what he meant.

Oh yeah, the jackals. Apparently, this rabbit and I aren’t really fighting. We’re just socializing. Playing some sort of game, and those jackels weren’t invited, so he got rid of them.

Spinning quickly, I bring my right foot up and hit him on the right side of his head. He sees it coming, at the last second, but still takes more of the force to his head than I expected to deliver, and he falls to the ground. His eyes, previously uninterested, look, for a split second, murderously angry. He reaches for the weapon on his back.

Now I realize I went too far, and it looks like I’ll have to end this, so I reach behind my back for my baton. He’s far too close for the pistol.

And then, before he can get up, his ears move in that radar like way common to lagomorphs, focusing on something behind me, and to my right.

Now, I can hear it, too. The elevator. Apparently, Flash is letting Judy participate in this… whatever this is, or whatever it was when he let her start moving, not long ago, downstairs. Now it’s something else, and she might not know that.

“Stop!” She says, sounding alarmed. OK, maybe she does know what’s happening.

My opponent’s hand never really touched his weapon, but we both know he was going to draw and attack. I know that I was going to meet that attack by punching my own baton into his ribs, below the controls for that holographic suit of his, and end his life. He probably thinks he was going to cut my throat…..

Judy, however, has other ideas. “Stop fighting!" She says to both of us.

"Flash told me who you are and who you work for!” She says, to Jack.

“For whom you work,” I mutter, but everyone ignores this.

“Do I have to call your mothers to stop you two?” Judy asks, shocking me, and probably the intruder as well. As intended.

“I’m an orphan” I said, reasonably, not expecting any sort of comment from the intruder.

“Never met her,” he says, instead, and the completely odd, and very sincere, way he expresses this thought, entirely breaks me out of the previous, lethal, frame of mind. Does he mean my mother, or his?

“You’re the ghost that works for the administrator, aren’t you?” Judy asks. She’s looking at me, and then him, eyes and ears shifting every few seconds. Now that I can smell her, the scent is determined, but not very afraid.

I put my paws out to my sides, relaxing a bit, no longer tensing to attack or be attacked. After a moment, the other rabbit does the same.

“She calls me Jack,” he says. Again, his voice is very sincere, and there are absolutely no ‘tells’ to indicate, to me, that he might be liing.

Not sure what else to do, or say, I ask a question. “If we’re not here to fight, what are you doing? Other than trying to make sure I get my daily work out.”

His reaction can’t really be called a glare, but I feel like I am annoying him. “She wants to meet you. Both of you, I suppose, but she just indicated a desire to see you,” he says, looking at me.

“Neveen wants to see me?” I ask, still trying to annoy Jack.

“If you’re feeling bold, call her Kyubi, because that’s how she is known, in Zootopia. Or The Administrator,” Jack says. Now, I am sure he’s annoyed, but he’s already agreed to stop fighting, and I know he won’t attack me unless I attack him, which I won’t do, now that I know he’s no threat to me or Judy.

“I’m sorry,” I reply, pushing my luck. “I’d never want to endanger her pretend identity.”

Now it’s Judy that stares at me like I’ve got two heads, but Jack, if anything, relaxes. He knows who I am. Of course he does.

“Two days from now. Midnight. The apex of her tower,” he replies, and starts to turn around, preparing to leave. “I’m sure you’ll get all the answers you need.”

“But not all the answers we want?” Judy asks. “Like, why did she invite me here, and then do nothing when I was attacked?”

“She didn’t do ‘nothing’. I was ready to step in, if necessary,” Jack replied, having verbally emphasized the word. He didn’t seem to want to use his mistress’ name, and I’m not sure exactly why. “It wasn’t necessary in any case. It would appear that you were able to find adequate assistance, after all. Possibly in a bar, or gutter, somewhere.”

“Now what does that-“ I started to say, but stopped. I guess I might have deserved that. “Never mind.”

With that, he did turn around. Then he put that odd purple scarf back around his face, and turned that hologram of his back on, and, effectively, disappeared.

As for Judy and I, we got in my car, and left.

Chapter Text

On the way back to the house at Picayune Avenue, Judy asked a question, and used her paws to make air quotes. “What did you mean by the ‘usual way’?”

“What?” I replied, trying to figure out the subject of her question. “The usual…. Oh, what I said to Flash before those jackals showed up?”

“Yes,” she said. “ I’d like to start looking at the information as soon as possible.”

“You already saw part of it, as I recall,” I replied. Like the receipt for my armored clothes, and I don’t know what else that wasn’t supposed to ever see the light of day.

She didn’t reply, but only looked at me, waiting.

“Fine. We can look at it tomorrow. After we get home, that is, back to the house,” I said, unsure why I wasn’t sure what to call Judy's office space. “I’ll enter the various passwords and start unlocking the data tonight.”

“Unlocking it?”

“Yes. The information is time locked,” I said. Judy looked uncertain, so I continued.

“Flash is very careful. He doesn’t like mammals having data that he gave them if they’re too close to the DMV. If those mammals get caught, then other mammals are going to wonder where they got the data, and then….Well, then Flash might have to move, and he REALLY doesn’t want to do that.”

“If the jackals showing up isn’t enough cause for him to move, I don’t know what is,” Judy replied, somewhat annoyed.

I could not argue with her. I do wonder however. Were the intruders looking for us or looking for him? Jack was looking for us, and showed no interest in Flash, or our business there in an apparently empty parking lot in the middle of the night. That suggests, to me, that Jack probably already knew who, and what, was there.

Arriving at the house, I could see nothing unusual, which was not unusual. Judy opened her own car door and then joined me as we walked to the front door of the house.

“Wait,” I said, and opened the door.

She stood just inside the house, with the door closed behind her, as I checked everything. As expected, I found a few bugs. Some of these were in Judy’s bedroom, where she could not see me from the door. I quietly disabled these. I found other bugs as well, in the main room and the kitchen, but not the bathroom. I will take care of the common area bugs after Judy is asleep so as not to disturb her.

“OK, you can come in now,” I said, after my efforts were complete, for now.

She looked around, and then asked a few questions.

“Nick? Do we need to add extra security here? Those jackals. What would they have done had they found us in the parking lot?” She didn’t comment on the fact that I had turned the record player back on, and didn’t seem to notice the way I had moved various items around to block sight lines.

“I would have taken care of them. You know I would have,” I replied. I can tell that she needs re-assurance, but that’s not something at which I excel. I normally just tell a client that the job is done, and then leave. Their friends do all that reassuring stuff.

Perhaps sensing my uncertainty, Judy said, “If we can’t look at the new data yet, can you at least tell me more about yourself?”

“Myself?” I asked. “What would you like to know?”

“Let’s start with some confirmation,” she replied. “You’re related to the city Administrator, and her name is really Neveen?”

“She’s my sister,” I replied, without much thought. “I thought everyone knew that.”

“Not everyone, no,” she replied. Then she looked away, as if consulting an internal list, and asked another question.

“Where, or how, did you learn to fight the way you did?”

“Well, some of it was on the job training. Some of it was training before the job,” I replied, trying to answer the question without answering it. “I told you I was an orphan, right?”

She nodded, and so I continued. “My sister and I were adopted by a family friend after my parents died. Or rather, after they disappeared. No bodies were ever found, you see.”

“That’s very odd,” Judy said. “I can look into-“

“If you like,” I replied. “I’ve been investigating the situation a very long time, and I have some very good sources on both sides of the law. They either know and won’t tell me, or they don’t know. I’m not sure which.

“So, anyway, my foster father decided that I was a very angry young todd, and so, he agreed when I suggested that I learn to fight. I kept at it, and got fairly good at it, if I do say so myself.”

“And the drinking?” She asked.

“Yeah, that was later, when I was old enough,” I replied, shrugging.

“Well, to do a proper job investigating what happened to you, I’ll need to know who you are. And not just your first name!”

“Who am I? I’m a todd of wealth and substance, but not the sort of mammal that females tend to introduce to their parents, if you know what I mean,” I replied, trying to make light of her question.

“I know you’re rich, Nick. I don’t know your last name,” she replied. Scent going somewhat darker, toward annoyance.

“That. That will have to wait for another day,” I replied.

That night, I got a little sleep after I took care of the bugs in the common area, and checked the perimeter for notes and traps. When I visited Judy’s room to check on her, and make sure she was still asleep, I heard her mutter my name. Curious. I set up the coffee maker and then put a chair in her room so I could be there when she woke up.

Around sunup, Wednesday morning, I was in my chair, watching her, as she was waking up. I had a glass of whiskey by me on the floor, but I’m not planning to drink any of it.

She saw me, and more or less immediately grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to her neck, perhaps trying to preserve her modesty.

I just cocked my head at her, and so she dropped the blanket back on the bed. I was here, by her bed, and had obviously been here awhile. She must have realized that I had already seen everything I was going to see. Right now, that was her underwear and night shirt.

“I am curious as to the subject of your dreams, Carrots,” I said.

“Oh? I’m sure you think it was you?”

“Yes, I’m quite sure it was,” I replied. “Foxes have very good noses.”

“Your nose just tells you I was dreaming about someone, not that the someone was you,” she said.

“I also heard my name,” I replied, and winked at her.

She shook her head, and then got up. Standing by the bed, she briefly ignored my blatant staring. Then she started to move toward my chair, but I held up a hand. “Please don’t. Not yet.”

“Maybe a shower then?” She asked. Her scent had changed from amusement toward a kind of detached interest. Her scent suggested lust only while she was asleep.

I hesitated, uncertain. Does she expect me to say yes, or no?

“Fine. But I’m going to have a shower. You can join me if you wish?”

“I think the coffee is ready,” I said, stalling for time.

“Sure,” she replied. “Pour me a cup of coffee, will you? But I know that’s not what you want.”

I didn’t bother to reply.

She did not, I was disappointed to see, emulate my earlier trick after I took a shower. She was fully clothed and quite decent when she opened the door, to see me looking.

She smirked, but made no verbal mention of it.

We spent part of the rest of the morning going over Flash’s information.

“Ugh,” Judy said, after the 9th picture of Mr. Otterton from his social media feed. “How much of this is going to be useless?’

Probably most of it, but of course I can’t say that. Judy wants me to encourage her, not give her realistic information. God of foxes, when and where did I learn that? Probably something Papa said.

“Patience, padawan,” I said.

“Don’t give me that Star Boars crap!” She replied, trying to sound annoyed, but she clearly was not.

“So you don’t want to talk about middle chlorians?” I asked.

“Not right now, no,” she said, and hit the button to advance to another picture. “Several dozen down, several thousand to go.”

“See if you can find that ‘dbel’ file that we saw last night? It’s one of the audio files and it might be useful. There are fewer of those.”

We listened to dbel, which turned out to be Dawn Bellweather, the presiding judge at the Otterton retrial. Much of it was just personal stuff, uninteresting to me, but she finished with “If this rabbit lawyer can come up with some useful evidence, and give me a good enough reason, I’ll set him free.”

“That’s good news!” Judy said. “We know she’s at least going to try to be fair.”

Chapter Text

That afternoon, we went to the police impound lot to look at Mr. Otterton’s car. Or rather, to look at where the car might have been.

“What the absolute carrot sticks?” Judy asked. “They said the car was still here.”

There were many cars here, of all sizes, ages and types. Some obviously here longer than others, some damaged, some not, but each has an assigned spot with an assigned number. We had been given a key, with a tag that had the spot number. We had not been told that the car was no longer present, or even that someone had moved the car for some odd reason or other. The car was not here.

“Apparently not,” I replied.

“Well, that’s just-“ Judy started to say. Then stopped herself, and I could see her struggling to regain control.

“Fine. Let’s go back home,” she said, finally.

It’s not really MY home, but I wasn’t about to correct her when she’s in a mood like this.

We had lunch delivered, but nothing could take Judy’s mind off the car problem.

“They said the car was still there! Those bastards at the lot said-“, Judy said, still fuming. Thankfully, she was interrupted by the phone.

Answering it, she said, “This is Hopps.”

I caught only about half of the conversation. That is, Judy’s side.

“Yes. No, I don’t know who you are and I don’t read your column.

“How did you know where I was? What?

“Fine, here he is.”

At that point, the phone was passed to me.

“Speak carefully,” I said, talking to both the caller and myself.

“My, is that any way to speak to, not only a fan, but also someone who has something for you?” The voice said. It’s definitely a female, and apparently a reporter. Possibly the artic vixen from Monday, outside the courthouse?

“What do you want?” I asked.

“It’s not what I want. It’s what I have that you need,” she replied, sounded amused.

“And how might we get it?” I asked. What sort of stupid games is this going to require? Probably some sort of exclusive…..

“Say please,” she replied.

I put the phone on mute and looked at Judy. “She wants to bargain with me.”

“I need more evidence if I’m going to prove Mr. OTterton’s innocence,” Judy replied, and looked at me with the sort of big eyes that I’ve often seen when a female client wants something done, but doesn’t have the money. From Judy, it was, to be honest, a little weird. “Please do whatever it takes.”

I took the phone back off mute, and said, “please tell me what you have.”

Glancing at Judy, she gave me a thumbs up gesture, which I tried to ignore.

“Let’s meet and talk about it. I know a great location. This evening OK for you?”

“No. I need to know what it is,“ I replied. “You can’t dictate terms to me, and I won’t let you waste my time.”

“Fine. Be that way,” the reporter replied. I wonder if Judy was remembering our first conversation, and maybe taking notes?

“I know you were looking for OTterton’s car, and I know it’s gone. Doesn’t matter anyway, because there was nothing in it, not anymore. However, I’ve also been in that car, and I got something. Something with his prints and a date time stamp, the evening of the murder,” the reporter said. “Don’t you think that’s worth some time?”

With that out of the way, the reporter and I agreed on a time and a place.

That left just one more problem. What to do about Judy? I wasn’t going to leave her alone in the car, out of my sight, while I talked to a reporter for who knows how long! Also, the reporter didn’t ask for Judy to come with, so the reporter might want some sort of physical payment, and I didn’t want to force Judy to see it, or force Judy to confront evidence of it immediately after the fact.

“So,” I said, after ending the call, and looking at Judy. “What about you?”

“What about me?” She asked emphasizing the second word. “You can just drop me off at the DMV-“

“Flash is not a rabbit sitter, he’s an information broker, and we’re not exactly the best of friends. Also, we know that some bad mammals already know about that place. We really do not want to visit there again because they might not let you walk from the car to the entrance without interruption.” Shooting you, I mean, but I can’t say that either.

“Look,” she replied. “I know you have some place to put me for a few hours. You’re a big time mob enforcer and hit mammal. Surely you have more than one safe house?”

“Well, yes, I do. But I don’t think you’re going to like it,” I replied.

I called Mr. Bigg and arranged for a series of cars to break any tails. We actually ended up taking three. One that was too large, one that was perfect, and one that was almost too small. There was a fourth car as well, but we didn’t take that one, just in case we were still being followed and the tail mammals thought we were just changing cars every time.

We arrived at Finn’s place, “Wilde Times” around 5 PM, before the evening rush. I had hoped I could just tell Judy it was a night club, or something like that, but apparently the fame related to the last, legal, brothel in Zootopia had spread even to Bunnyborough.

She started with “you took me to a brothel!” and the conversation went down hill from there, but at least she got out of the car when I did. She stayed very close to me.

“That’s right. You said I needed to find a place no one would look for you, and-“

“Because it’s a brothel!” She replied, angrily.

“Yes, we’ve established that,” I said. “Now, let’s get you inside, and get you a room-“:

“What?”

“A room. You know, a private place you can look at Otterton information, without being seen or disturbed?” I asked. What’s the big deal?

“Oh, I thought I had to Ummm. Never mind,” she said.

Oh. That’s what the problem is.

“Don’t worry carrots. This is NOT the sort of place where the customers get whatever they want. The males, and today is a hetero night, will stay at their tables and will NOT even talk to you unless you talk to them first. They know the rules, and Finn kicks them out if they don’t obey those rules.” And sometimes he beats the hell out of them first.

“Finn. Right. Yes, you asked me, on Sunday night, if I had called him.”

“Did I? I guess I did. I was thinking you might have talked to him, but then turned him down when he told you what he does,” I said, and then thought about it. “Oh.”

“Oh,” she repeated. Her scent, which had started out as annoyance, didn’t change.

“Sorry about that. I thought you would find out what his terms would be, and then…” I said, realizing how foolish that sounded, now that we were here. The truth is, I hadn’t even thought about it, one way or the other.

I suppose I should have say something like ‘I’ll protect you so you don’t have to be a prostitute,’ but I didn’t because I really didn’t care about her, one way or the other, at the time. But now?

And that’s when we saw Finn, coming out of the doors of his establishment.

“Well, well. Lookee who it is. And he brought me a gift!” The little fox with the big ears said.

Judy crowded closer to me, and so I wrapped my tail around her. I also found myself growling at Finn, which was a surprise to all of us.

“Ah? That’s how it is? Might as well come inside, then,” he said.

After getting Judy settled, and making sure she heard me threaten Finn to keep the customers away from her, I was on my way to see the reporter. I didn’t bother to change cars this time, of course. Finn is old news, and I doubt anyone really pays much attention to who is leaving there at this time of night. Just like I don’t think anyone watches who might show up early.

I wasn’t worried about paparazzi. They know what will happen if Finn catches them. The body would never be found.

I reached the agreed meeting location a little early, and waited.

Looking around, I noticed various things. It was an alley, a sort of urban canyon, if you wanted to be poetic about it.

There were various marks on the walls, one of which looked very much the crest chosen by the Administrator. The Wilde family crest looked similar, of course, which I thought was foolish of Neveen, but it’s not my decision what sort of symbolism she wants to use. At least she doesn’t insist on silly black and red flags, with gold trim, and banners! Talk about over compensating….

“Hello there,” the reporter, Victoria Harridan, said, when she saw me. I had taken a position with my back against the wall, sunglasses on, hands behind my back, near my baton. I never have a weapon in my hand unless I plan to use it.

She was walking, so she must have parked her car nearby. Dressed very fashionably, with hat and short skirt, in beige, to complement her white fur. When she got close enough, I took her scent. Eagerness and anticipation, partly. However, it was, as expected, mostly arousal.

“Thanks for coming! I’m a huge fan, and I’d love to get your side, your impressions, about-“ She began.

“Let’s get to the point, shall we? Like I said earlier, I don’t read your column, and I can’t say I like reporters very much anyway,” I said.

She stopped short, and seemed to reconsider her approach. The uncertainty lasted only a second or two, proving that she was probably very good at getting the sort of answers she wants. I’ll have to be very careful.

“Don’t like us? Us in general, or me in particular?” She replied, cocking her head and moving to my right, and, incidentally, closer to me.

“Reporters in general,” I replied, defensively.

“Well, I’m not like them. Maybe, if we get to know each other better, you’ll change your mind?”

With that, she closed the final distance, and pushed her entire body against mine. Her middle moving against mine, and I found myself responding. She noticed, as I feared she would.

“That’s not so bad, is it?” She asked, brushing her muzzle against mine, and exposing her neck to my teeth. Despite myself, I nibbled, and she sighed, putting her head back, as her hat fell off.

I grabbed her hips, picked her up, turned around, and pushed her against the brick wall, telling myself it was to give myself some room, not to trap her. In response, she put her legs around me, and I found my paws going up her legs, to discover she was not, in fact, wearing anything else under that skirt.

And then… I realized what I was doing, or about to do.

“Wait,” I said, but softly, and not with great conviction.

She responded by pulling open my shirt, popping buttons, and then nipping my neck, and I found myself getting somewhat lost in the scent of an excited vixen.

However, when she next put her own legs on the ground, and pushed me back so she could unbuckle my belt, I found my voice again.

“Stop,” I said, and pushed back from her slightly.

She paused, and looked up at me, having gotten down on her knees on the concrete. “Why? Is that what you really want?” she asked, breathlessly.

I backed away, having felt, and still feeling, the way my body was responding, enthusiastically, to her advances. “I. I don’t. I.”

“You don’t know?” She asked, getting up, but keeping her gaze locked on my groin. She licked her lips. “But you KNOW we could have so. Much. Fun.”

“Yes,” I whispered. Then, I said, “Please just give me the receipt.”

As I drove back to Finn’s place, with the receipt, I reflected that maybe, just maybe, I might be an idiot. However, I also know that I need to tell Judy more about myself. I want her to make a decision about staying with me, or not.

Harridan had given me her card, and I still have it. She said it was, “in case you change your mind.”

Chapter Text

Judy found herself getting very tired of looking at, and then discarding, datafiles. She had been in Finn’s office an hour, so far, and there was no end in sight.

On the plus side, she now knew pretty much everything that had happened, in the vicinity of the Otterton house, that night. She had heard Otterton’s speech that day. She had seen video footage from several nearby businesses, including a gas station that was probably the same one Otterton used that night.

Now, she clicked on a file called ‘ZPD Otterton’, and wondered what she would get. She knew Otterton had been questioned, recorded and on record, but she had not seen the video. This was probably a copy of the official file, no doubt on a flash drive somewhere in the ZPD evidence warehouse.

The first thing she saw was the paw of some large feline, apparently making some sort of adjustment to the equipment.

‘Yes,’ Judy thought. ‘This is it.’

A voice was saying, “Ok, is this thing on?”

And then she could see Emitt Otterton, but he was not making a recording of himself. He was in a familiar room, at ZPD. The date and time stamp showed early morning, after the murder, and after the time of death of his wife, at Zootopia General Hospital, only hours ago. He looked exhausted, but determined.

“Oh, carrot sticks,” Judy said, and then, caught herself, and promised to do penance later. “He probably came straight here from the hospital. This is really bad. His lawyer should never have let him talk to the police at a time like this.”

But it was too late, and the video had already been made. She didn’t know, yet, why it wasn’t included with the other court documents.

“Right. I’m Detective Frank Wolferton, and this is my partner, Detective Sergeant Al Delgato,” the first voice continued, and the camera panned to show the two mammals, and then settled back on the otter. “This, of course, is Mr. Emitt Otterton. The date time sticker is included in the video. The location is ZPD Precinct One, Information Room 101.

“Mr. Otterton? Do you remember what we talked about, and do you have anything to say?”

“Yes,” the otter replied, looking straight at the camera. He was still dressed very formally, but his clothes were not bloody, so someone must have brought him something from home to wear. “I understand. I am not under arrest, and I am free to leave at any time. If I do choose to leave this station, I will not be expected to leave the jurisdiction of the ZPD, and I have, of course, surrendered my passport, as requested.”

“That’s right. And you did that on your own, which, to me, means you’re more than willing to cooperate,” one of the detectives, Wolferton, said. Clearly, he was going to be ‘good cop’ during this performance. “Now, why don’t you take us back through the events of the day, like you were doing, before we started this recording?”

Judy winced, but made herself not react any more than that. ‘Where is his attorney?’ she wondered, again.

“Ahem. OK. So, I left my house at the usual time that morning 7:30 AM. Nothing unusual happened, as far as I know. Emily was asleep, as usual, when I left for work.”

“Right, right,” the other cop, Delgato said. Or it was probably him anyway. “Get to the good parts?”

“Now, Al, let him tell this in his time. We don’t want to rush and leave something out,” Wolferton added.

“So. Work was normal. I didn’t call home, but I almost never do. I left my office downtown at the usual time, around 7 PM, and then I stopped at the local market for a candy bar.”

“Yeah, I remember you said you never do that?” Wolferton added, trying to sound like he was helping, but in fact, he was subtly steering the testimony in a way that no court would allow her to do to a witness on the stand. But this cop would probably just say he didn’t realize what he was doing.

“Yes. I put the receipt in the car. Your officers should be able to find it easily,” the otter said.

‘No they didn't find it, but the reporter said she did. And I hope Nick was able to get it from her,’ Judy thought, and then dismissed the slightly sick feeling she got when she thought about how he might get it, and what it might cost.

“Ok, so what time was that?”

“It was just before 8 PM,” the otter replied, too promptly. "Maybe 7:50 PM."

He didn’t realize what this looked like. A mammal can never really be sure what time something was, this close to the time of a crime, and he was sounding too helpful, as if he had practiced for this interview. Innocent mammals usually don’t do that. At least he didn’t have the receipt on him, and then hand it to the first cop he saw when they picked him up!

“OK, so, about 8 PM, you’re at the local gas station. Then what?”

“I drove home, not fast, because it’s dark out-“

“Did you take the most direct route, down Oak Drive?”

“No, I took Rose. I like to turn into my driveway from that direction, you know?”

“Sure,” Judy heard one of the detectives say. She wasn't sure which one.

Judy could see Otterston hesitating, and clearly trying to remember what he had decided to say when he got to this point in the story. He probably didn’t realize how obvious his thoughts were.

“And?"

“Oh. So, I got home, and there were no cars around. I was kind of surprised by this, but, of course I pulled into my driveway, activated the garage door, pulled in, and then closed the garage door. Everything was normal.

“Normal, OK,” Wolferton repeated.

Now it was Delgato that put himself into the conversation. “What, exactly, did you see?”

“Just the inside of the garage-“

Delgato bristled. “Now look here, we don’t need to know THAT sort of-“

“Now, don’t get excited,” the wolf interjected, apparently defending the otter. “What my partner meant to say, to ask, is what did you see when you went into the house? And, was the door locked?”

“Yes, yes, it was locked. Like normal. There is a mud room just inside the door, and a place for coats, but I had no coat, of course, and didn’t need to remove any rain boots.

“I walked toward the kitchen, and-“ Here, he paused.

“And?”

“And I saw my wife’s body on the floor,” Otterton said, in a sort of detached tone of voice, like he was talking about something else. “There was blood on the carpet She was not looking at me, and I thought. I thought."

“The knife was next to her,” the otter concluded. He had paused again, and his interrogators had waited.

“Neighbors told us that they had seen an intruder,” the wolf added. His tone of voice made it clear they had discussed this before, and implied that he information was added only as a kind of bookmark.

“No, no, he was gone when I got there, but he came back-,” the otter said.

There was a kind of silence, and Judy could see, clear as day, the fear on his face as Otterton realized what he had said, and what it might mean. The officers let it stretch.

“So, you knew him-"

But then Judy saw Otterton’s face, and posture, straighten and change to determination, and she knew what that meant. He had wasn’t going to continue to cooperate.

“You said I could have an attorney,” Otterton said. “You said I could leave if I wanted to. You just wanted to ask a few questions so you could find the real killer.”

“Sure, sure, we’ll get you your lawyer, but he’s going to tell you not to cooperate. If that happens,” the wolf said, and shrugged.

“If that happens, we’ll have to come up with our own version of the story. In our version, maybe you did the whole thing? Maybe you wanted the insurance money. Maybe it was a typical domestic argument gone wrong? So far, I’m thinking argument.”

“I guess I’ll take my chances,” Otterton said. He looked very small, but very determined now. He crossed his arms and glared at the camera until the recording ended a few seconds later.

‘Well, that wasn’t very helpful,’ Judy thought. ‘And I can see why the other judge didn’t allow it as evidence.’

She selected the next audio file, called ‘eott’.

This one started somewhat differently. There were two voices. One she recognized, and the other she did not.

“So, I’m here. What, ah, what happens now?” Emitt Otterton, or his voice anyway, said.

There was no video, but Judy could hear the unmistakable sounds made by cars in a parking garage. In her mind's eye, she could picture the grey, concrete landscape. She thought it might be after sundown, but of course she had no idea.

“What happens now is that you hand over the amount agreed, and give me a name and what ever other information you have on the target,” an unknown voice said. He sounded familiar, but Judy could not place the voice.

There was another background noise, like a shuffle, or rustle of clothing, and some sort of grunt, and the sound of zipper. ‘Probably a large, nylon bag being opened. I wonder why he didn’t use a briefcase?’ There had been no clicks.

“It’s all there. I won’t. I wouldn’t. I won’t cheat you,” Otterton said, nervous. “I just want this taken care of.”

“Yeah, you know better than to cheat me because if I can kill one otter, then why would I not kill another? And just to be clear, this is your wife we’re talking about, right?” The other voice said.

Now Otterton sounded somewhat panicked. “I don’t want to say anything out loud! What if we’re being recorded?”

“Yeah, as if,” the other voice said.

Now that Judy thought about it, the unknown voice was louder, and more distinct, than Otterton’s voice. ‘This guy is probably recording everything as insurance,’ she thought.

“And don’t kill her. Just scare her, OK? Tell her my speeches are upsetting the wrong mammals and-“ Otterton started to say.

“Stop. I don’t care why you’re doing this. Want to give the missis some excitement to liven up your marriage? That’s fine. You’re paying.

“You’ve got some notes here…. You want me to either be long gone before you arrive at 8 PM, or to try again the next day if there is a problem?” The unknown voice said.

‘He’s making sure it’s all on record,’ Judy thought. ‘And Otterton doesn’t seem to even realize it.’

“Yes, I’m going to stop for candy at a gas station-“

“Well, look at you. Planned everything? Very impressive,” the other voice said, and laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do my part.”

And that was it.

Judy sat, in silence, a long minute or two.

‘I think the other voice was Weaselton,’ she thought, as she logged off. 'Nick might be able to tell me more.'

However, she had other business now. Nick would be back soon, and she wanted to ask Finn a few questions first.

Chapter Text

“Finn? Can I use your office?” I asked, when I got back to his place.

“Sure,” he replied.

He and his madam, a large feline, were relaxing on a kind of raised area where Finn likes to sit and watch the comings and goings. Anyone getting out of line would get a good whack from the baseball bat he habitually carried. A few years back, when I worked here, it would have been me taking care of that sort of thing.

I know Finn noticed the, damaged, state of my clothes and the additional scent, but he chose not to mention either. Cat, as was her habit, just ginned at me, also saying nothing.

Judy and I didn’t speak until after we went into the downstairs office, and closed the door. There is a desk and chair, and her scent is strong in here, so this is probably where she spent most of the evening while I was gone. It's not a very large room.

She put a velvety hand on my chest, and, for a moment, I think she’s going to lean in and kiss me. She does lean in, but to sniff, not kiss. “Something happen to your shirt?” She asked, sounding very serious, like she doesn't know perfectly well what must have happened.

“I got the receipt,” I replied, evasively. I took the bag, with the receipt inside, out of my pocket and held it where she could see it.

“Did you?” she said, turning away. Her scent suggesting disappointment, or at least, emotional distress.

I put the plastic bag on the desk, but she made no move to take it.

“And paid in sex?” She asked, probably remembering my earlier comments about her working for Finn. “I know most males don’t think of sex the same way that I do, but I had hoped-“

Why, oh why, do I have to have THIS conversation, here, of all places? And how did I end up having to talk about it now?

“I did not have sex with that vixen,” I interrupted, quoting something I heard some politician say many years ago, and trying my best to sound slightly put off by this, clearly, silly question. But I forgot that this sort of thing is what she does for a living.

“Don’t make light of this! You say, ‘that’ vixen, but which one, was it, exactly? And I know the legal definition of sex,” she said. “So don’t try to-“

“My dick,” I said, very precisely, “did not go anywhere near her vagina. Nor her ass. Nor her mouth.

“In other words, there was no sex. If that’s what you want to know," I continued. “Does the prosecution have further questions?”

“I do,” she replied, ears up and eyes blazing. “You got the receipt, and you say you didn’t pay in sex. Payment is typical in situations like this. Was payment required this time?”

I nodded, and she asked, “how did you pay?”

“I found something she wanted more than sex,” I said. I could smell, and see, her anger now, and my own emotions rose to meet hers.

“Information. She’s a reporter, and, like attorneys, reporters like to know things,” I said, realizing immediately after I said this that I really should not have opened that door. I really have got to learn to de-escalate this sort of situation, but I rarely have conversations like this with females. I usually just leave before anything like this can happen. I suppose that's the point of leaving.

“What did you tell her?” Judy replied, as her scent changed from anger toward annoyance. Her body language was still rigid, however.

“Not much. I gave her the chance to answer ten questions. She asked seven, and then told me that she had found out all she needed to know,” I said.

Judy did not reply, and I continued without thinking about what I was saying. “I did not give her my last name, Wilde, nor did I tell her that I was hired to protect you while you try to prove Mr. Otterton's innocence. However, I might point out that I think she knew at least part of that.”

“Wilde?” She asked, rigid body language relaxing somewhat, as she grasped that detail. “I heard about. About you, I guess? It’s in some of the text books when dealing with unsolved mysteries-“

“And that would be one of the, many, reasons why I hate to tell people who I am,” I replied.

“Well, Mr. Wilde, I’d like to get out of here, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure,” I replied, and we left. I nodded to Finn and Cat on the way out.

We went back to the house on Picayune, barely speaking. She kept her muzzle away from me, staring out the window, and I kept my thoughts to myself. I really don’t want to make things any worse.

I checked the house for bugs, and rearranged things as usual, but Judy did not comment. Once, she acted like she wanted to say something, probably about my unreliability or whatever. Instead, she went to her bedroom to go over information, and then, later, she turned off her light and went to sleep.

I again, debated leaving, and, again, I went outside. Looking around, I saw no one interested in us, no lights on where they should not be, and no new cars nearby, so I got in my car, sent a text to Finn, and then called Papa.

“Nicky! Why do you only call me late at night?” I heard his voice, and felt the sort of relief that I always feel. "I suppose the late hours are just a symptom of our chosen profession?"

“Sure. I like to talk in private, and my client keeps regular hours, so I'm calling later,” I replied, trying to sound casual. "She’s asleep."

“We’re not using her name now? Everyone knows for whom you work, Nicky! Confidentiality doesn’t apply, so,” he said, and paused while I waited for him to finish his thought. “You had some sort of falling out?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “She told me to get a receipt that was important to her case. I got the receipt, but the reporter, a vixen, wanted me to pay her with sex. I-”

“The reporter had the receipt, and you had relations with her?” He asked. I know he’s never approved of my one night stands, but he tries not to give me too much hell about it. “Or, did you not have sex with the vixen? I assume you wanted to.”

“Oh, gods, I wanted to, but I didn’t. I thought-"

"Please don't take the name of the God in vain, Nicky."

"Sorry," I replied, and then paused, trying to remember exactly what I had been saying. "I wanted. That is, I thought I should just, umm, sleep with Judy, you know? I admire her, and I may be in love with her, and I think the feeling is mutual. I just met this vixen-”

“So, what did Judy say when you told her this?” Papa continued, doing that thing he does when I say something stupid, and irritate him, but now he's pretending that nothing had happened.

“I didn’t! I don’t know if I love her, and we’ve only been together a few days,“ I said, but I didn't really know how to continue.

“And you don’t know how she would react to such a proposal, and you don’t want to get your heart broken,” the old shrew said. “I understand, but I think you know what you have to do, yes?”

“Please don’t tell me I need therapy,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“That would be a conversation for another time. Now? Tonight? This week? You need to stay and finish your business with Ms. Hopps,” he said, clearly thinking. "She may give you a chance to compromise. If so, you should take it."

After the call, I went back inside the house and set up the coffee machine on a timer. I didn’t grind the beans, of course, because it’s noisy and Judy had already done that earlier in the week, so the beans were fresh. To me, they were fresher than necessary, but Judy doesn’t think that way.

At first light, Judy woke up to find me staring out the window. She started to say something, and then changed her mind, instead continuing to go about her morning rituals, including a cup of coffee. I continued to rest my eyes, and waited.

“Nickolas Wilde?” Judy asked. She had come to stand near me, dressed now in shirt and slacks, but not her suit coat. Fur combed, posture straight, and looking more official than usual. Scent edging now from a moderate fear that I expect is probably uncertainty, toward determination. I nodded.

“Will you protect me, here in Zootopia, while I fight for Emitt Ottertton?” She asked.

“I will,” I replied, feeling an immense relief.

"Good," she said, turning away now. "We need to drop off the receipt at ZPD so they can prove Otterton touched it. After that, I have arranged to talk to our client."

Chapter Text

We headed for the prison to talk to Mr. Otterton after dropping the receipt off at ZPD, and getting their promise to verify the prints, “as soon as possible before the trial starts.” Judy reminded them that the trial was tomorrow, and they acted like they knew it was important, and that they might actually be done in time. Once again, I expect Judy was glad she managed to get Bogo’s support during their first meeting, earlier this week.

For reasons that are not clear to me, the prison guards don’t want Judy to speak to her client for more than an hour, which seems very odd, considering that she’s his lawyer, and he doesn’t have much of a social calendar. I mean, he’s in jail, right? What else might he be doing? Or maybe it has more to do with his general status here, as a convicted murderer?

After parking our car, we entered the building to sign in. The place looks, to me, very much like a warehouse, but then, storage is the purpose. They’re storing mammals here that society doesn’t want, or doesn’t want at the moment, and just doesn’t seem to know what else might be done with them.

Unlike warehouses, this building has a kind of modular design, such that you can’t go very far in any direction without getting permission from one of the mammals working here. They hit a button, a door near you opens, and you move into another room. Then the door behind you closes, and there is a new door, and someone else, out of your reach, that has to open another door. It’s designed to make escape impossible, but it also makes entry very difficult and time consuming.

One of the guards, there seem to be dozens of them all over the place not doing very much, notices my weapons harness. “You can’t bring weapons in here,” he says. He’s a pig, like many of the others I’ve seen, and we’re in the second to the last room we have to enter.

“I can read, thanks,” I replied, as we moved through the new set of locked doors, and into the waiting room. There is another sign on the wall reminding any visitors that forgot. It says, NO WEAPONS ALLOWED IN THIS FACILITY. THE GUARDS WILL ASSURE YOUR SAFETY. We’ve seen that sign several times this morning.

I had left my pistols, and the baton, in my car, and so I was able to get in sooner than expected. As usual, the guards more or less just waived me through because of who I am [or at least, who my sister is], but, unlike at the courthouse, the weapons detector was live when I went through it this time. Judy, of course, got the full pat down treatment, possibly because she’s a rabbit, and a defense attorney.

Once in the meeting area, and having had the rules explained, slowly, and in great deal, we were finally able to talk to Otterton. The otter looked defeated as he was brought in and shackled to the table. He was reluctant to meet our eyes, and he smelled like he had showered recently.

Judy first had to re-assure Otterton that I wasn’t working for what Otterton thought was the enemy. My sister, in other words. I expect my sister gives almost no thought to Emit Otterton, other than the way the apparent ‘rail roading’ looked. As for his criticisms of her policies? I doubt she gives a single damn.

“Who is this?” Mr. Otterton said, when he saw me.

“He’s the mammal that keeps me alive while I work on your legal defense,” Judy replied. “As you know, rabbits aren’t, normally, legally allowed in the city.

“Emitt? Meet Nick.”

I nodded, glad that Judy had not included my last name, and watched the otter focus back on the rabbit. He didn’t ask about my association with his somewhat cheap friends, and I didn’t volunteer anything, both because it wasn’t very important to me and because Judy would not be interested in wasting time on such things.

He sighed. “I assume you want to know what I remember from the day of the murder?”

Judy shook her head. “No, Emitt, I wasn’t able to get much time with you, and so I don’t want to go over that At least not right now. We may be able to discuss it later.

“Instead, I need you to answer one question, honestly.”

“Of course,” he said, too quickly, and tried to make a joke of it. “But don’t you mean, as honestly as I can?”

As planned, I moved to stand nearer to Judy and, apparently by accident, between her and the camera, as she leaned back in her chair. They could still see the empty table top between her and Otterton, and so we didn’t expect any interruptions when we planned where I would stand.

“Not really. I need to know if you arranged to have your wife killed, and you should have no trouble answering that,” Judy said, surprising me and the otter.

“What?” He stammered a reply, as I took his scent, again. I’m sure Judy heard his heart rate change, and we both saw how he tried to cover up his immediate, and apparently natural, guilt and shame reaction, with apparently false, surprise and anger.

“I thought you were my attorney! You’re supposed to defend me-“ He started to say after a few seconds. His eyes darted between me and Judy, perhaps doubting that I was just a body guard.

“I can’t defend you properly if I don’t know what actually happened,” Judy interrupted him. “I’ve seen your police interview.

“And I’ve heard some audio evidence, given to me anonymously, that suggests you hired someone to scare your wife. If that’s what you did, I need to know, so I won’t be surprised by anything tomorrow at the trial.”

“I-“ Otterton stammered, trying to regain his composure. He did not continue.

“It’s OK. The guards can’t hear you, and, they can’t read my lips, so they don’t know what we’re talking about.”

I shrugged, and joined the conversation. “This is your best chance, otter, and Judy is your best hope. Tell her what she wants to know,” I added.

“Well, I guess, with the trial tomorrow, you really do need to know the whole truth, don’t you?” Otterton said, beginning his own process toward admitting that being here, in prison, was his own fault. The charges were, technically, incorrect this time, but, had they known what he was actually doing….

“I-“

And, as if the universe was listening, and angry at us for some reason, this is the exact moment when three criminals, armed with home made knives, killed the guard out side the room, burst through the door, and tried to kill us.

That is, I think they were trying to kill Judy. The intruders didn’t seem very interested in the table with Emitt Otterton, after Judy moved away from it. Instead, they apparently planned to kill her after they overpower me, three against one.

The room was not large, and they were temporarily blocked by the door as they tried to come at us. We had a second or two for warning, as the prison guard outside our room was disabled, and the door started to open, so I was ready when they did try to get in. Judy moved behind me to get out of the way, Emitt hid, as best he could, under the table, and I rushed the door to bottleneck the intruders.

They were armed, and were larger than me, but it didn’t really matter. They had no training, except, possibly, watching way too much TV. It’s like they thought a weapon was some sort of magic wand. Just waive it and people do what you want.

The first one looked at Judy, and then saw me, and paused, ever so briefly, so I punched him in the throat. The next two stumbled over their, larger, buddy’s falling body, and fell. I was easily able to take them out with my feet. The whole thing took maybe 3 or 4 seconds. Using my pistol, currently in the car, would have been no faster.

“And another thing,” Judy was saying to the prison administrator, some hours later, “we have, or should have had, a reasonable expectation of safety within your facility. You won’t let my body guard bring in weapons, after all!”

I wasn’t sure why Judy was carrying on like this. It wasn’t a big deal, and we were never in any real danger. The three attackers were now either dead or in the hospital, and the guards had very pointedly NOT asked me any questions, or made any comments, about the way I handled the situation. Like the attack near the courthouse, there will be no charges filed.

“I understand. I do,” he replied. “But we can’t always control the actions of the more recalcitrant offenders.”

Judy and I were seated in the office of an older, late middle age, porcine paper pusher. His body was soft from many years of this sort of job, getting very little exercise, sitting behind a desk, and making decisions based on statistics and whatever additions, or modifications, to the penal code had been provided by the Zootopian Legislature. And by my sister, of course. I doubt he ever personally interacted with the prisoners at all.

He was now, probably, wishing his job involved something that did not involve interacting with us.

“Just give me a few minutes with them,” I replied. Judy turned away from the pig, and looked at me, angrily, but the administrator seemed to be thinking it over. He had his face, but not his scent, back under control before Judy turned back around, however.

“What’s done is done, and it’s not like we were hurt. Let’s get out of here,” I said, when our host appeared to not have anything more to add.

“That’s it?” Judy asked me, so I shrugged.

"Not much can be done, really. The prison is on lockdown as the guards look for other weapons, so we won't be able to talk to Otterton again before the trial," I pointed out. Our host nodded.

“Fine,” Judy said, shaking her head, looking and sounding somewhat defeated. “Where would you like to go?”

I nodded to the pig, Judy and I hopped off our chairs, or Judy hopped while I kind of jumped down, and then we left the office. We again proceeded through the many doors, and, finally, reached fresh air and sunshine, now on our way to my car.

“How about a frozen treat? Some ice cream is just the thing to cheer you up,” I replied, and surprised myself by putting my hand on her shoulder as she walked by my side. She responded by leaning her head over and rubbing her chin on my fingers.

Chapter Text

I was feeling more giddy than I would have expected when we arrived at the ice cream place. I wanted to do drive through somewhere, but Judy saw a place she liked, called “Two Trunks, One Scoop”, and they didn’t have a drive through line. It did have a large, black, expensive limo parked out front.

We parked in the lot behind the store, and then walked in the front door.

Once there, I knew immediately that we would not be staying. There was a fox already there, engaged in some sort of business transaction with the elephant proprietors. The fox looked like the sort of mammal that would gladly sell you a used car for far more than it was worth, or buy a business for far less. I reminded myself not to judge a book by its cover, but found it very hard.

“Goodfellow,” he said, introducing himself when he saw us. “John Goodfellow.

“What’s her name?” He asked me, gesturing at Judy as if she was unable to reply. Or maybe he just thought that rabbits were so inferior that they should not even try to talk to a member of the elite, vulpine, class of mammal.

I looked a question at Judy, and she said, to me, “I’d like a chocolate swirl.”

I went to get the ice creams, and then stayed back nearer the counter while Judy and Foulfellow talked. That is, Judy talked, and Foul got angrier.

When the ice creams were ready, I paid, leaving a substantial tip, and then took mine and Judy’s and inserted myself in the conversation by giving my vanilla to Foul and the chocolate swirl to Judy. Foul looked happy until I took his cigar, put it out in the ice cream, and then put the ice cream in his inner jacket pocket.

“It’s foxes like you that make it harder for foxes like me to live normal lives. Mammals know that one of us rules the city, in truth, and so they tend to give us a certain amount of obedience and submission and trust. You, abuse that trust, and do things like throwing temper tantrums in public after trying to force these elephants to sell their business to you.

“As for me? I’d like you to give me a reason, any reason, to break you like the rotten stick you are. Please. We’ll fight, after you pick the place and the weapons. All nice and legal. Den rules, you know?”

Apparently, he did know, because he didn’t give me a reason. He did storm out of the store.

Foulfellow practically jumped in his limo, and it sped off. Judy looked at me.

“Was that really necessary?” She asked.

“Killing him would have solved so many problems,” I replied, and shrugged.

We looked back at the elephants, who now looked even more depressed than before, and then we went back to the car, around back.

Later, and back at the house again, I checked everything and covered up or disabled the various bugs. One would think they’d learn by now? Maybe they think I’ll miss at least one. Maybe I have, but I don’t think so.

I went to the kitchen and poured myself some whiskey, while Judy opened up her laptop in the room that I was thinking of as the ‘den’. It wasn't the bedroom, kitchen, or bathroom, anyway.

“Nick? Um. Can you listen to this and tell me what it is?” She asked, before playing the eott audio file.

“Sounds like Otterton's been a bad mammal,” I said, when it was over. “Sounds like he didn't do what they charged him with.

“But yeah, it sounds like he hired a killer to take out his wife. I’m not certain, but I think the other voice is Weaselton,” I concluded. “Sounded like him anyway.”

Judy looked uncertain, so I asked, “what would you like to do now?” She frowned.

Then she got up, looked at me, and went into her bedroom. I had a very brief, very odd, moment during which I hoped she’d say something like-

“Nick? Could you join me in here please?” She asked, surprising me.

Entering the bedroom, I found her fully clothed and sorting through some of her notes, on the bed. If she noticed my disappointment, she gave no sign. Instead, she surprised me again.

“Let’s play a game,” she said.

Chapter Text

I found myself participating in a mock trial. That is, Judy asked me to throw questions at her, as the witness, or she would throw questions at me, as the witness, to prepare her for the hearing tomorrow. I’d like to say I was an eager participant, but that might be stretching the truth.

“Oh, don’t mope. We’ll do something more fun later,” she said, somewhat off handedly. Her scent did not change, however, I wondered what that meant?

“So, I’ll start with the ZPD Technician who examined the receipt,” she said, digging through her notes.

“Why? We’ll have the receipt. Can’t you just-“ I started to say, but she interrupted me.

“No. One should never just hand over an item to the court without first telling everyone what it is, and an attorney can’t testify. Witnesses testify. I can, and I will, interview the ZPD officer that examined the receipt.

“That officer is going to be you, this afternoon,” she concluded.

“Oh, joy,” I replied. Here I was in Judy’s bedroom, and of course, she wanted to talk. I wanted to cuddle up to her on the bed, and maybe do some petting? But I suppose I should get over it. This isn’t that sort of story, apparently.

“Hey, maybe it’ll be fun!” Judy said. I expected her to say it in that enthusiastic way of hers, but she seemed to be distracted, almost going through the motions. Her ears stayed down.

“OK, bring the, no, we’ll just go back out into the main room,” she said, before gathering up her papers from the bed and walking out.

I followed, and then sat in the chair to which she pointed.

“OK, you know what to say?” She asked me.

“Sure,” I replied. “I assume we’ll skip all of that swearing in stuff because it’s not the sort of thing you want to practice?”

Judy nodded, and I continued, “that is, you want to be ready for whatever might happen, and the best way to do that is to practice?”

We started with the detective who worked on the case, or one of them anyway. Judy wanted to get the timeline entered into the official record, and this was the only way, apparently.

“Detective Sergeant Wolferton, please state your role in the investigation,” she began. She was beginning to get some of her enthusiasm back from where ever it had gone.

“I was one of the detectives working on the Otterton case, that is, case Z-2021.”

“Ok. Now, I’m going to ask you some questions about the case, and I’d like you to answer to the best of your recollection,” Judy said, and I nodded.

“The witness has nodded, indicating assent,” she said, mimicking the judge. I thought she might mimic Bell’s rather unique voice as well, but she didn’t.

“After your analysis of the crime scene, the reports of the responding officers, an anonymous phone call, and the body of Ms. Otterton, were you able to determine a timeline?”

“That’s kind of-“ I started to say.

“Just go with it, OK?” She replied, impatiently. I shrugged.

“That’s right. ZPD got a call at 7:55 PM. Caller said she could hear arguing, and possibly fighting, at the Otterton home, which the caller initially identified as ‘that big house with the garage in the back.’

“Officer Fangmeyer, and Lieutenant Weaselton were nearby, on break, at the time, and so they were contacted given the address, and instructed to proceed to the residence to check things out.

“They arrived at 8:05, and saw no signs of disturbance, initially. Officer Fangmeyer reported that she could smell blood, and so Weaselton ordered her to break down the door. She did, and then they entered the house. Both reported seeing Mr. Otterton standing near his wife’s body, bleeding, on the floor. He had blood on him, and was holding the murder weapon, which was a butcher knife from the kitchen.”

“Were you able to determine when Mrs. Otterton was stabbed?”

“Yes. She was awake when officers arrived, and muttering something we didn’t understand. Fangmeyer took her blood pressure, which was strong, after application of a pressure bandage to her chest. Later examination of various physical evidence, including the carpet, the wound, the weapon, her clothing, the remaining amount of blood in her body, and Mr. Otterton’s clothing, gave us a very clear idea of the rate of blood loss. We believe she must have been stabbed only a short time, maybe 10 minutes, before the officers’ arrival.”

Or maybe Otterton found her with the knife still in? And removed it, foolishly, thinking he was helping? That would have had an effect on the rate of blood loss.

Judy was back to looking at her notes, and not very interested in talking about it, however.

“Mr. Fox, please state your occupation,” she said, to let me know it was time to get into another character.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m the senior ZPD fingerprint analyst,” I replied.

“I have here, exhibit A. Do you recognize it?” Judy asked, picking up a random piece of paper and waving it.

“Yes. That’s the paper that I examined yesterday.”

“Where did you get it?” She asked.

“I understand that Judy Hopps gave it to the Chief, and then he gave it to me.”

“So you got it from Chief Bogo?” I nodded, and she continued. “Were you given instructions?”

“Yes. The chief said I should examine the paper to determine, first, what it was, and second, who might have touched it.

“I have determined, by visual examination of the writing, that this is a store receipt, for a candy bar, from a gas station not far from the Otterton’s home. That is, not far from the scene of Mrs. Otterton’s murder. The time stamp reads 7:50 PM.”

“Are you familiar with the Otterton case?” Judy asked.

I looked at her, cocking an eyebrow, and she said, “just answer the question, OK?”

“Just what I read in the newspapers,” I replied.

“You said you examined the receipt to see who had touched it?” Judy asked. She didn’t say anything about who might have touched it, but anyone listening is going to know who it was. That is, Emitt OTterton was at the gas station, when the ZPD said he was at home killing his wife. Emitt must have left the station only minutes before the ZPD car, which was also at the station.

“I did. There were three or four sets of prints. One was Mr. Otterton. Another was the clerk at the gas station. There were other prints, but these did not match any known person, and may, in fact have been two persons.”

“Two?” Judy asked. I thought she might object to my adding this detail, but she didn’t.

“Yes. One of those is probably mine and the other is probably Ms. Harringdan, the reporter,” I replied. “That is, Nick Wilde, not the technician.”

“You mean you-“ Judy started to say, incredulous.

“Yes. I had to put it back in the plastic bag. Harringdan took it out of the bag to show it to me,” I said. “And she wanted me to verify the scent.”

“You didn’t mention that, before,” she accused.

“It wasn’t very important. The important thing is that it smells like Otterton and so his prints are probably on it,” I replied. “I didn’t want to pay for a worthless piece of paper.”

She blinked, but made no comment for a moment.

“Scent like that is not admissible in court anyway,” she muttered.

“Moving on….Get up and I’ll have a seat in the chair,” she said.

We switched places.

“Now, you ask me the sort of questions that a prosecutor might ask, on cross examination,” she said.

“Hmm. Ok,” I replied.

“So, Mr. Fox,” I began, remembering that I should get, or at least try to get, some sort of rapport with the witness. “How long have you worked at ZPD?”

“Five years,” Judy said, with a sort of growl to let me know that she was trying to imitate me. I ignored this because I know the prosecutor is a fellow vulpine. We don’t know the species of the fingerprint analyst.

“And yet you’re the senior technician?” I asked.

“Objection,” Judy said, in her own voice.

“What?” I asked, breaking character.

“You’re not supposed to,” she started to say, and then stopped. “You know what? Never mind. The point of this is to see if you can surprise me, and you did. Let’s continue.”

“There has been a great deal of turn over,” Judy said, back to growling now.

“I see,” I replied. “You said you learned about this case from the newspapers?”

“That’s right,” Judy replied, and then anticipated my next question when she continued. “I wasn’t in Zootopia at the time. I’m from Nova, you see.”

“Very well,” I replied, not being able to find anything problematic in her reply. “You said there were three or four prints.”

“That’s right. Two were unknowns, but one of the others was the clerk, and the other was Emitt Otterton.”

“Very well,” I said, again, and pretended to have nothing to ask, for a moment. For her part, Judy just waited, as a witness on a stand would do.

“Now, I’m no expert, but I understand that no fingerprint is 100% certain. In fact, I’ve got a book here,” I said, and gestured at a non-existent prosecution desk. “This book here says you only have degrees of certainty, always less than 100%, based on sets of markers common to both prints. That is, the print you're examining and the print known to be from the mammal. “

Judy said nothing, unlike the way an actual witness would probably fill the silence even though I had not asked a question.

“So, what was the percent certainty of those two known prints?” I asked, giving up on my waiting game. This is somewhat enjoyable, and she gets to do this as a job? Maybe I need to go to college. I've only got a GED, currently....

“The clerk was 80% and the otter was 60%,” she said, picking numbers out of thin air.

“So, I understand that, if we had five copies of this receipt, four would definitely be from the clerk and three from the otter?”

“No, because copies would not have the fingerprints,” she replied.

“Very well, then let me put it another way,” I replied. “This receipt might not have been touched by Mr. Otterton at all.”

She had no reply to that. “Let’s just hope the real analyst is more certain,” she said, after some thought.

Chapter Text

Eventually, Judy was either satisfied with, or more likely, tired of, the mock trial and so I could rest before looking forward to the next thing on my to do list for this week. We needed to visit the Administrator at her home at midnight.

Some people think the Mayor is in charge of Zootopia, and they may even think he makes the important decisions. They assume the Council advises him, but, in fact, power has been entirely in the hands of the Council for some time now. Mayor Lionheart is just a figure head, not unlike the kings and queens of Republics like Beartania, Squirrel, and Ferocia.

However, the Zootopian City Council recently discovered a problem. That is, they are all powerful mammals in their own rights, with strong power bases in the military or the labor unions or whatever. They knew they needed an outsider to be a kind of impartial arbitrator when disagreements arose. They thought this arbitrator would be someone of no consequence, and no power base.

What they got was Kyubi, the vixen. Initially supported only by the military, she soon came to dominate the Council. I’m not sure if the other Councilors realized just how much domination until she had General Valter killed earlier this week. Soon after that, she sent her bodyguard, Jack, to summon Judy and me to her official residence downtown; the building was often called “the Spire”.

Kyubi’s birth name was Neveen. She’s my sister.

We arrived downtown a little early, mainly because I wasn’t sure about parking arrangements. I hate to park downtown. It seems like you have to pay an arm and a leg for a space, when there are few and when there are plenty. I feel like the fees should be waived when it’s midnight and we have the parking area mostly to ourselves.

“Remind you of anything?” Judy asks, looking around, as we exit the car.

It’s a grey and apparently, permanently damp, landscape, all concrete and some metal, with very little color. We’re on level six, so there are some blue colored markings near the stairs and elevator.

“No. Should it?” I replied.

“I thought you guys all made deals in places like this?” she asked, and then started walking and continued talking.

“That’s what they do in the movies.

“Two or three cars will pull up and meet at least one other car, and then a bunch of goons pile out of them, and stand around trying to look menacing while the bosses argue about price or whatever,” she said. Her ears were up and focused on me, and her scent indicated curiosity. She wasn’t trying to be annoying, even if I would have preferred quiet while I thought about what to say later.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” I said, and gestured to a blue cargo vehicle, and then a sedan. “Van like that could be full of shooters. That luxury car might be the mammal with the money, or the one the goons are here to pick up.”

She nodded and I let her think I had dropped the subject until we got on the elevator.

“Now that I think about it, this does kind of remind me of the place I met Otterton’s friends when they hired me to take you out,” I said. “Or maybe they said-“

“What?” She asked, somewhat surprised. Ears up and eyes wide.

“Take care of you?” I asked, gesturing her forward, and into the small, square, room. I followed, and then hit the down button on the wall.

“They paid you to-” She replied, but I interrupted her as the doors closed.

“Paid me to make sure nobody killed you,” I said. “I thought we talked about this earlier in the week?”

“You said you were being paid,” Judy said. “And, as I recall, not paid enough. You didn’t say what you were paid to do, but I assumed you were hired to protect me!”

“Ah, well, yes. I was hired to protect you,” I replied, as the elevator arrived at the ground floor. “They gave me $514.63. Someone in my profession is generally not paid in anything that involves fractions of dollars, and certainly not pennies, but here I am.”

“I believe I’ve already said this, but, thanks,” Judy said, after only the briefest of hesitations.

Soon, we were on another elevator, this one in the Spire and headed up, and it was a much longer ride. Judy and I were silent, each with our own thoughts.

Finally, our ride stopped, and we stepped out on the top floor. There was a vixen waiting for us, alone. I could tell by the scents that this was her private domain, and allowing us this sort of access was a sign of great deal of trust.

“Nick,” she greeted me. “You look…. Serious.”

“It’s part of my job,” I replied, mainly to see how much she knew.

“Yes, your job,” she said. “The job you chose.”

I shrugged, and Neveen turned to Judy.

“And this must be the indomitable Judy Hopps. 243rd with 279 brothers and sisters, some adopted.”

“Yes,” Judy replied. “Rabbits have large families. I don’t expect that sort of thing is common knowledge here, what with the ban.”

“Straight to the point!” Neveen said, by means of reply. “You should know I don’t agree with that policy, and I’m working on changing it.”

“Are you?” Judy replied, after looking at me, briefly. Possibly she wondered why I was letting her, a relative stranger, take the conversational lead? I hadn’t seen my sister in many years, but I found myself with nothing to say. It's not like there is much family gossip, after all.

“Are you trying to change it?” Judy repeated. “I was given the impression that your word is law, here in Zootopia, and so, you can just make a decree. Why don’t you?

“Unless you’re not as powerful as I was lead to believe,” Judy concluded.

“I can see that you don’t really have much experience ruling a city, Ms. Hopps!” Neveen replied. If she was annoyed by Judy’s challenge, it was not apparent. Her scent was one of amusement.

Now, she waited to see if the rabbit would take offense, and when the rabbit merely cocked her head, the vixen continued.

“Yes, as you pointed out, I could just make a decree. But mammals might not obey, and every time you tell people to do something, and they don’t, it diminishes your power. Do that enough times, and you find yourself out of a job, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that mammals in my position don’t get the retire peacefully?” The Administrator asked.

I had the feeling that she would have taken a sip of wine, had a glass been nearby. This speech seemed to be mostly for show.

“Or like the way it is with Mr. Otterton. I can’t just say he’s not guilty, or say he is guilty, for that matter. Everyone has to feel like they heard the whole story from,” and here she paused, and gestured to Judy. “Well, from someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Judy replied, emphasizing the second word. “Am I replaceable?”

“We all are, but not like you think. I mean, someone from outside the city. Like you.”

While Judy and Neveen were talking, I spent some time looking toward the edges of our room, here at the top of the spire. I could see that this was, indeed, the highest building in the city. No one else could look out their window, and look down, and see us. But that would be what Neveen would do, every day, or night. Look down and see them, or look down and see us, as a matter of fact. This did not fill me with comfort.

“So, Nick. What happened after I left?” Neveen asked, interrupting my thoughts. She has probably realized I wasn’t paying attention, and this was her way to draw attention back to her. No doubt, this is where, she felt, it belonged.

“Not much. I kept training, and then joined the family business. Eventually, I moved out on my own. I’m sure you know all that?”

“Family business?” Judy asked, proving that she was paying attention.

“Didn’t Nick tell you? He’s one of Mr. Bigg’s soldiers,” Neveen said, head cocked to the side, and one leg drawn up under her on her seat.

“I knew that,” Judy replied. “Everyone saw him kill that tiger-“

“You don’t have to be a mob enforcer to be able to do that sort of thing,” the vixen replied.

“It helps,” I shrugged. “So, where did you get Jack? One of those fancy fighting academies outside of town? Money would not have been a problem.”

“No, but you’re right. I could have bought one,” she replied. “I didn’t. Well, I kind of did.

“I saw him in chains, and immediately realized he was the one. I had to offer his captors more for him, and then I had to remind them that my choice was supposed to have a shirt.

"After that, I-"

“Sounds like quite a story,” Judy interrupted. “But I’d like to get back to why you invited us?”

“Technically, I invited Nick, and you’re his plus one.

“To answer your question? Nick? You’ve got the Wolf Hounds after you,” Neveen concluded.

“Those mutts?” I replied. “Great… Which ones are they? The wolves or the ones that.. Never mind, I think I remember something fatal happening to the other ones, so it’s got to be the wolves.”

“These wolves are big on honor, so they won’t just take a shot at you in the street," Neveen said, casually, as if I had not just accused her of having her rabbit friend murder the other Wolf Hounds. "They’ll invite you to fight them, but keep you covered with a sniper in case you look like you’re going to win.”

“Like I said, great,” I replied.

“Will Jack be joining us, or will he keep doing that wallflower thing?” I continued, gesturing toward an apparently empty portion of the wall with my chin.

“He likes to watch,” she said. “But I told him his presence, here, now, wasn’t necessary.

“Later today? Downtown?” Neveen said. “We’ll see.”

I grimaced. I don't like to ask for help, and I'm sure Neveen knew that.

“As for you, Ms. Hopps,” she continued when I frowned and turned my head back toward Jack’s location. “I wish to inform you that I know what information you have, and I recommend doing what your duty requires.”

The Administrator didn't say what would happen if Judy didn't do what she was, effectively, being told to do.

“Will it get me disbarred?” Judy asked. This close, I could smell her, and her scent was from anxiety, not fear. She’s been thinking about what she needs to do, for several days, and this is just a sort of confirmation.

“No. If necessary, I’ll take care of that. I invited you, after all! Hardly fair to have you go through all that trouble, just to get in trouble.”

“What about where I got-“

“I’m taking care of that also,” Neveen said. “Here.”

She reached behind her chair and grabbed a slim package, which she then tossed to Judy.

Judy caught it. She spent some time examining and weighing it, and then she grimaced. I’m sure she knew what it was and who would need to see it in a few hours.

Chapter Text

“I expect you’ll do your walk through of the house, as usual, when we get back?” Judy asked, breaking the conversational silence when we were nearly back to Picayune.

“No. Not this time. I hired a crew to keep an eye on things while we were gone,” I replied.

I drove the car through the streets of Zootopia in the rain. Judy, as usual, was in the passenger seat. I never let her drive, and she never asks. Come to think of it, I’ve never expected her to ask. I think I’ve said, earlier, that I don’t know much about the sort of polite conversation that mammals normally conduct.

There was, indeed, an unusual car in the driveway when we got back, but I knew the shrew driver. He’s one of Bigg’s many friends, or possibly relatives, it’s hard to say sometimes because the word ‘family’ means, to Papa, someone he trusts. And it’s not exclusive, or universal, to blood relatives.

I stopped in the driveway. “Wait here?” I suggested, to Judy, and got out.

The shrew and I exchanged a few words, and then I handed over a tip. He nodded, and then he and his team left, while Judy was getting out of the car. She followed me to the doorway, as usual, and stopped, waiting.

I checked the inside of the house for bugs of course, but not very carefully. While looking, I discovered that there was no dust in the corners, or dirt on the rug. Those guys are thorough, and trustworthy, which is why Koslov recommended them.

My examination of the interior done, I noted the time, 2:30 AM, ZST, took off my jacket, and hung it on a convenient chair back. Then I went into the kitchen, poured myself the usual whiskey, and carried it back into the den.

“I suspect you need some sleep?” I asked Judy, gesturing toward her with the glass. She nodded.

“And you? What will you do?” She asked. There was a kind of anticipatory scent about her, which changed to disappointment after I replied.

“The usual. I don’t need much sleep. I do need to do some exercises if what Neveen said about the Hounds is true,” I said.

She started toward her bedroom, but stopped, and turned toward me.

“Do you remember that reporter?” Judy asked.

I thought about it for a few seconds, and so I didn’t say, ‘yes, she was very attractive.’

“Yeah. Haydrian something?” I asked. Trying to pretend I didn’t remember the feel of the fur on her thighs and bottom against my hands.

“Harridan. Victoria Harridan,” Judy replied. “When you went to meet her, you left me at Finn’s place.”

I nodded, and she continued.

“While I was there, I tried to get Finn to tell me more about you, but he wouldn’t say much. He’s known you a long time, apparently,” Judy said.

“Yes?” I replied, trying to guess where this conversation was going. “I asked him to let me tell you about myself. I assume he did. Is that-“

“Just, let me finish, OK?” Judy asked, and then continued before I could respond. “I realized that I didn’t want to lose you. I should have told you how I felt before you left, and then, and then, you came back with your shirt torn up and you smelling like that vixen!”

“I already said I was-“ I tried to explain as her scent started to shift, but I was interrupted again.

“I was so angry! But then, I realized why I was mad. I was jealous. I wanted you to smell like ME, and not like her.

“I don’t want some vixen to get you.

“I want to be more than just a friend, Nick,” she concluded.

“You,” I started and then tried again. “You don’t know me. Not the real me. Just some sort of brief picture of me, taken over the course of a few days, here at this small house.”

I spread my arms. “This is not me. My home does not look like this, not even a little.”

“So?” She replied, cocking her head. “You got a ‘male cave’ somewhere?”

'Yes,' I thought, but didn’t say anything, and she continued, “I know enough about you. I hear your heart beat change when you see me in the morning.

“I know that you could have run, back at the courthouse. That tiger was five times your mass, and, as you said at the time, you weren’t getting paid enough, so don’t even TRY to tell me you were just doing your job.

“That’s all a female really needs to know. Would her mate kill for her?” She asked. “I know you would. I’ve seen you do it.”

“Whole city saw it,” I replied, and turned away. Why had I stayed? It never even occurred to me to run, but then, I knew I could easily take that tiger. Or, maybe, I could not conceive of admitting it if I couldn’t. He would have let me go, but then he would certainly have killed Judy.

She looked at me, as I hesitated, entirely unsure how to continue. Then she went into her bedroom, the same way she had done all this week, but tonight she smelled calm.

Now what the heck am I supposed to do? The reporter is still on my mind, but Judy is here, now. Foolishly, my body seems to want the vixen, but, in my mind, I know that Judy is the better choice. And so, I do not follow her.

I was still thinking about it an hour later. Judy was asleep, and I was outside in the rain, doing one of my forms. I needed the room if I was going to practice the moves involved with ways to use my weapon, and I was careful to stay in shadow, and keep out of any obvious long distance sight lines. I moved as if I had the baton in my hand, but, for secrecy, I kept it under my jacket even now.

Left foot forward, right arm forward to lunge, left arm back for balance, body falling partway toward the imaginary target. Then, stop and turn, right arm swings, like this to catch an opponent's leg, turn, and then-

I nearly collided with Judy, who promptly grabbed me.

“What-“ I started to say, but she hugged me, saying nothing. Apparently, I was so focused on preparation that I forgot to check my surroundings. Dumb.

“Let’s get you inside,” I said, feeling her t-shirt under my paws, and putting aside my annoyance. “You’re not dressed for this.”

Back inside, I closed the door behind us, and went into the bedroom to get towels for us to dry off. Judy stayed in the den, for the moment, out of my sight.

When I came back, she had a surprise for me. That is, she had removed her wet clothes, all of them, and was standing nude in the middle of the room.

“I don’t know how much more plain I can be, Nick,” she said.

I didn’t move, so she walked over to me and started undressing me.

“I don’t know if-“ I started to say.

“Just, don’t say anything, OK?” She said, working on my belt until my pants fell. “I know you don’t know if you. That is, how you feel about me, or you won’t admit it. But, our clothes are wet and we both need some sleep. I was thinking we could take care of both situations, together.”

Again, my mouth nearly got me in trouble by asking, ‘And you don’t have anything dry to wear?’ But I bit my tongue as she pushed off my shirt, hesitated, and then decided to leave my shorts on. Then she turned, and walked into the bedroom.

“Follow me,” she said. “We don’t have to do anything. And I don’t want to do anything tonight because, in a few hours, we.

“I mean, we both need to decide how we feel about this, what ever this is,” she said, as I climbed, with hands and knees, onto the bed.

She lay on the bed, and I lay next to her, both of us on our backs for the moment. I was trying very hard not to think about what was happening, or might soon be happening, and what I might easily encourage to happen by moving closer to her or putting my hands on her.

After a moment, I turned my body and faced away, waiting to see how she would respond. After a moment, she accepted the invitation, and pressed her body into my back, and put her paws on my tail. Sooner than I thought possible, and surrounded by the smell of a happy female, I was asleep.

Chapter Text

“Well, hello,” I said, stepping out of the car, but letting the door shield me, for now. I had the window down. “You guys in town for a medieval convention, or what?”

They did, indeed, look somewhat like foot soldiers, or more likely, scouts, for an army that might have existed 500 years ago. They had swords on their backs, and sturdy clothing, intended to take damage.

My day had started well. Judy woke up first, and didn’t bother to wake me when she crawled out of bed. I heard her in the shower, and, briefly, thought about joining her. I suspect I would be welcome, but, I looked at the clock and changed my mind.

Instead, I got up, and stretched, and then paused before setting about assembling my suit, and gear, for the day. The baton was, as usual, perfectly balanced and ready. Both pistols, also. With these goons after me, I expect they’ll plan to hit Judy coming out of the courthouse, like the tiger, so I’ll have to figure out where they had gathered, near the courthouse, but out of sight of the police there.

I know there are schools where mammals like these wolves think they can learn how to do what Jack and I do, but I also know that those schools don’t actually teach a mammal to do what we do. That is, they’re schools, and their business is graduating students, not really building assassins or body guards. There is, I understand, a certain amount of grade inflation, and shooting to hit a stationary target, when no one is shooting back, is not difficult.

As for me, I never worried about passing or failing an exam. I seldom even worried about surviving, and never bothered to wonder how beat up I would be when the current fight was over. In a street fight, or an alley, there are no rules and no referees. I wear armor, but not everywhere, and it doesn’t prevent me from feeling when I get hit.

And then, this morning, I discovered a new sensation. Fear. Fear that I might lose this new life that I can only just now see, but dimly. Last night was the last chance I had had to escape the current uncertainties and certain danger, In that situation, I would read, later, about what happened to Mr. Otterton, and what happened, what has not yet happened, today, to Judy. But, greater than my fear of death, is my fear that I’ll let Judy down. I know she depends on me, and I know what that trust feels like. To earn it, I have to be worthy.

Judy, done with her shower, comes back to the bedroom, and I take her place in the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, both Judy and I were showered, dressed, and on our way to the courthouse. Judy had the disk from my sister, so I assumed there is going to be some interesting discussions in the courthouse today.

We passed the alley where I expected to see the Foxhounds [such a stupid name!], and I was not disappointed. At least one in the alley, and another one on a nearby roof. What do they think? That nobody looks up? Maybe their fighting skills are as subpar as their surveillance techniques?

Having dropped Judy off, and assured her that there was nothing amiss, so as not to worry her, I then drove to, and parked in, this alley. I had barely started to get out of car when three more wolves appeared. Counting the one still on the roof, and the one already here, that made five, as expected.

“Ghost,” the largest one, probably the pack alpha, said. “We didn’t expect to see you until later this morning, or, possibly, this afternoon. We’ve studied you, and you should know that you can’t beat us.”

He’s standing, very slightly, behind the other three while he monologues about the things he thinks he knows. They all keep their eyes fixed on me as I take their scents. Eager, but clean, and apparently not afraid at all. I sincerely doubt any of these dumb dumbs have ever done this for real. If they had, there would be at least some fear.

“You think I work for the Administrator?” I asked, in their general direction, without moving out from the insufficient cover of the car door. I know their sniper is behind me, and I can practically feel him watching me through a gun sight, but I don’t actually expect him to be a problem. Not for me, anyway.

“Don’t you?” One of the other wolves asked, after a second or two. They weren’t trying to get any closer to me. By now they have to have realized the way my car will limit their ability to get behind me, and the way the narrowness of the alley will allow only a couple of them to engage at any time. Unless, of course, they pull out guns and start shooting, in which case I’ll jump back into my car and wait for the ZPD to respond to shots fired.

I’m fairly sure the ones here in the alley won’t start shooting. They’re too confident, four against one, and their leader knows he can signal his other shooter, at any time, and then run away before Bogo’s mammals find my body, dead in this alley.

“No,” I replied. “Many mammals make that mistake, so, I don’t mind, over much.

“However, I have met him, recently. And I have to say, looking at you, now? You need to do your best not to meet him, ever. He’ll just kill you,” I said. I waited a moment or two for that to sink in, and then added, “I might not.”

They responded by drawing the swords slung on their backs. The way they do it, all at the same time, proves that they’ve practiced this move, probably while watching each other in the mirror, many times. Very smooth, and confident. Foolish, in fact. The three that hid should have had their weapons already out because I might have been more aggressive, running at them, giving them no time to get ready, or I might have had friends, coming from the other end of this particular alley.

The weapons are all the same size, single edge, like knives rather than daggers. They’ve got some sort of fancy metal work on the spines, and holes such that the blades will be slightly less heavy. They’re wolf sized, too heavy for a fox like me to use. Certainly, the grips are too wide for me to grasp effectively.

“Don’t be concerned,” the leader said. “You won’t be killing any of us.

“John?”

One of the wolves, obviously younger than the others, and entirely unscarred, started to move toward me. He stopped far enough away that I have no fear of him rushing me while I navigate around the door.

I shook my head, sighed, and took my pistols out of their holsters and put them back in the car. My jacket is armored, and so I won’t take it off and then drop my harness. I need the baton anyway.

The young one doesn’t react when I take out my pistols. He’s very confident that I would never dream of dishonoring myself by shooting him. Their leader must know I could use my subsonic ammunition, but he’s also got that sniper behind me somewhere, so a shootout is not in my favor.

I closed the door, drew my baton with my right hand, and waited. “Well? I asked.

“I wanted you to know that I’ve looked forward to this. I asked to be first because I didn’t want to fight you when you were tired, or wounded. If you win, my friends will remember that I died well. If I win, I will give you a fine, ceremonial, burial,” he said. His ears were up, his scent confident, and his body language very relaxed. Clearly, he expects to win.

“John, is it? Are we going to do this, or just talk about it?” I asked, now just out of his reach. I would like to wait for him to commit to his attack, and then hit him from an unexpected direction. He’s in a high ready position, so he’ll be slashing downward, at an angle, from my left shoulder to my right thigh. I’ll need to get close to him, briefly, to use my shorter weapon, and I could very easily get cut.

He moves to my right, attempting the standard circling maneuver that I’m sure he’s practiced with his friends at the other end of the alley many times, but I don’t move, so he stops, after a moment.

“Why-“ he starts to say, having started to move back toward the center of the alley again, but I rush him, getting close before he can react properly. The proper response to this move, if you don’t catch on fast enough, is to drop your sword and grapple, but he tries to shorten his grip on the sword and stab me in the lower back the way one might gig a frog.

I am no amphibian, so I put one end of my baton up into his belly, making a straight line from the tip of the weapon to the other end of it and on to the heel of my right foot. I might have hit him lower, or with more force, but I know this will put him out of the fight, and that’s all I need, really.

Now, he does drop his weapon and apparently grapples, but he is without strength. He coughs up something on my neck and back, as he slumps against me, almost falling on top of me, so I guide him to the ground. He’s done nothing to make me hate him, so I don’t hasten his fall, and I take an extra half second to make sure he doesn’t injure himself further.

Stepping back from him, I pick up his weapon and toss it toward the other end of the alley. Can’t use it, too long for me, so I might as well amuse myself.

“Which of you is next?” I asked.

Chapter Text

A few blocks away, about the same time, the retrial of Emitt Otterton was back in session after a quick recess to discuss new evidence introduced by the Defense.

‘I can’t believe she did it,’ Loxley thought, after standing to acknowledge Bellweather’s re-entry into the court room. The judge had not, of course, used the same entrance recently used by the attorneys, Loxley and Hopps.

“Members of the audience may be seated,” the lamb said. There were dozens of witnesses in attendance today, including the vixen Kyubi, officially the Mayor’s secretary, and Bogo, the chief of police. There were, of course, apparently no rabbits, other than Judy Hopps.

Nearest the judge’s platform, in the front of the room, there were the tables and chairs for defense and prosecution. The defense with a rabbit and an otter, and the prosecution with a fox. The stenographer, this time, was a giraffe, and the bailiff, a rhino.

“This court, and the attorneys for defense and prosecution, have recently examined the evidence supplied by Ms. Judy Hopps,” Chief Justice Bellweather said. She only occasionally looked down at her notes, as if this monologue, or a version of it, had been on her mind for some time. It probably had. “There was initially some question related to the precise pedigree of the information, but this court is satisfied that the evidence is genuine, and, therefore, being genuine, we believe it must represent truth.

“Truth is what matters. This morning, and every morning,” she said, and paused. If she expected argument, she didn’t get it. No mammal would be so foolish.

“First, I would like to thank Ms. Hopps for being willing to share this information with the Court. No doubt, as Mr. Otterton’s defense attorney, she found this task to be difficult.

“For that,” and here the lamb looked directly at the rabbit. “you have the thanks of the court. Others, in your place, might have simply buried this evidence, and then claimed ignorance.”

Judy nodded, saying nothing. Unnoticed, Loxley also nodded, as the judge continued, “Second, I find that the charges against Mr. Otterton require modification in light of this new evidence.”

Mr. Otterton, for his part, simply stood next to Judy, saying nothing, keeping his head bowed, meeting the eyes of no one. He had not even greeted Judy this morning, beyond a nod, having guessed what she was probably going to do. Or, possibly, one of the guards had told him.

“This court will address those charges,” the sheep continued. “As I said, they will require modification, and not any sort of action leading automatically to an acquittal. This court considered acquittal, and then re-arrest immediately, on new charges, but that will not be.”

For his part, Loxley, merely shrugged. He had lost that argument when Hopps pointed out it might be considered cruel, in open court, to apparently release Otterton, only to then instruct members of the ZPD to take him back into custody immediately. Mammals might feel that their emotions were being manipulated, or, worse, that the emotions of defendant were being manipulated.

‘Fool killed his wife,’ Loxley thought, again. ‘Or had it done, anyway, through negligence. I doubt any action against him could be cruel.’

“Mr. Otterton, this court believes that you intended to do harm to your wife. A previous court has determined that you murdered her. I don’t think that’s exactly what happened, and so I am recommending a new trial. You will be charged with Conspiracy to Commit a Felony, and Unlawful death as a result of a felony you instigated.”

Meanwhile, in an alley down the street:

As it turned out, the anticipated ‘next wolf’ was actually two of the remaining three wolves. Neither one looked or smelled eager, and both of them, no doubt, thinking the same thing, ‘why didn’t John kill this bastard?’

“Get on him!” the third growled. This one was a larger, white wolf. The other two were both grays, and smaller.

The grays gripped their swords tighter, as if that would make any difference, and kept the points as close to me, and correspondingly, as far from their own centers of balance, as they could. Their steps were uncertain, their body language over controlled. Certainly I did not need to expect any sort of quick reaction from either.

I charged, closing the distance and swinging my short baton to the side. They froze, as my weapon extended another foot, with a click. Getting within their reach, and under both swords, I stopped my forward motion, and then hit, and broke, the hand of the one on my left. The gray on the right made no move to attack me while I was doing this. I could smell his fear.

“Drop your sword,” I said, simply, and flicked my baton to return it to original size, about half what it had been. The other gray, with a broken hand, had already dropped his own weapons, and was having a very hard time not crying out in pain, or at least sobbing. A broken hand is no joke, as I knew, having broken my own left hand, years ago, while attempting, and failing to properly complete, an overly complicated passage through a set of obstacles meant to represent an alley very much like this one. Looking around, now, I realized I shouldn’t have bothered. Just plug one end of the alley with a car, and it makes things much simpler.

“Don’t you-“ the last wolf, at the other end of the alley, was saying to the gray wolf, but then the blade hit the ground.

That left just the white, standing there, waiting and fuming.

“Fine,” he snarled now, and pointed his own sword at me. “Die.”

I about half expected a bullet, and the pavement in front of me rushing up to hit me in the face. But, after half a minute, there was no bullet, and no pavement.

Back in the court house, the atmosphere was tense, but not for the same sort of reason. Here, the pen is mightier than the sword.

“Your honor, the State will need time to-“ Mr. Loxley was saying, but he stopped.

Everyone had heard the sound, but few knew what it was. Bogo, and the bailiff, and a few others, knew.

“Active shooter!” The bailiff shouted, and then repeated it. “Active shooter! Kowalski,” the rhino shouted toward the doors, as a cheetah stuck his head in. “I’m getting her honor to safety.”

The bailiff then headed for the judge’s private door to escort her out of the room. “This court is in recess!” She said, striking the sound block, before getting up and following the urgently gesturing rhino.

As for Otterton, he went back to his holding area. Judy found herself sitting in the hallway with the prosecutor.

“Loxley,” the fox said, and held out his hand for the traditional shake that mammals used in formal, business occasions instead of taking a closer sniff of the other’s scent. “Louis Loxley, representing the State.”

“Hopps, Judy Hopp,” the rabbit replied, taking his, much larger, paw. “For the Mammals.”

Time passed with nothing happening. And then....

Both of us in the alley, the wolf and I, heard something heavy landing on, and then falling off of, a car, or possibly a large metal container, somewhere behind me. By his disgusted look, and the change in his scent, the wolf had also seen what, or possibly who, it was. He snarled. “Can’t even do that right!”

He started to charge, but stopped when I gestured with my own weapon. He looked down and found himself with a glowing dot on his chest.

“What-“ he started to say, but never finished.

I’ve seen mammals killed by sniper before, but seldom from this close. The big wolf stumbled when the bullet hit him, and then I heard the shot, fired from behind me, and several stories up from the location of whatever object had hit the ground so recently.

I turned around, looked up, and made a kind of salute. "Thanks, Jack."

Chapter Text

With the fight over some time ago, my baton now in an evidence bag, and the police satisfied with my, entirely non-lethal, part in it, I was finally free to go. The cops had come, recorded everything, taken the wolves, both dead and alive, and most of blue uniforms were gone. I didn’t mention the pistols in my car, under a convenient towel, and they didn’t ask.

“Leave the car here for a bit?” I asked the last one of them. Morseby, that’s his name. One of the herbivore officers in the ZPD.

“Sure,” he said. “Shouldn’t be a problem. It’s not in the crime scene and the detectives didn’t say anything about having it towed back to the lot for evidence.”

I nodded and turned to leave, but stopped when Morseby cleared his throat.

“Is it true?” He asked. “They took a shot at you from across the street?”

I thought about giving him some sort of misleading answer in an effort to protect Jack, but I didn’t think about it long. “Yeah, someone took a shot, either at me, or the wolf. I never saw the shooter. Heard someone land in that alley across the street, right before the wolf took a bullet to the chest.”

He nodded and went back to his cruiser, probably to continue with his other, interrupted, duties today. As for me, I walked back toward the court house, leaving my car in the alley, for now. It was now somewhat after noon, and, very soon, I wanted to sit down, at home, and have a drink. Or rather, sit down and NOT have a drink.

When I got closer to the courthouse, and I realized where I was, I stopped and turned around in a circle to look. It was here, near this very spot, only five days before, that Judy had been assaulted by a tiger with a knife. Today, there were again many, many reporters close to the courthouse, but this time, more cops also. These cops didn’t appear to have any sort of urgency about them. I stood and waited, having seen Loxley come out and start making some sort of speech.

I expected to see Judy come out next, and get mobbed by reporters, again, but she surprised me.

“Nick?” She asked, having obviously used a different door this time. She had her briefcase, no doubt with the computer inside, and a cup of coffee. She stared at me, apparently surprised I was here.

“What happened?” I asked, but I had a pretty good idea. Using a side exit, the Prosecutor busy giving a speech on the steps of the courthouse, and the Defense attorney alone? Judy must have lost. With her ears angled that way, and shoulders slumped, she looked as tired as I felt.

“I could ask you the same,” she replied, gesturing toward my clothes, with new stains and, probably several rips. I nodded, and she continued.

“Continuance, not Acquittal,” she said, without any sort of enthusiasm. “Mr. Otterton, found guilty by a previous court, will remain in custody. Not guilty of First Degree Murder, but charged with conspiracy to commit first degree murder. He’s cooperating with the prosecution, of course, hoping to get some sort of leniency.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked. Judy’s ears were now almost entirely down behind her back. She looked like she had been through a battle, and lost. I felt like I should cheer her up, somehow, but I had very little idea what to say.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” I said, gesturing, when she didn’t reply. She fell into step beside me.

“What happened to you? We heard a shot-“

“Yeah. Some dumb dumb with a rifle,” I replied, and grinned down at her. “Missed me by a mile!”

She looked back at me and nodded, saying nothing for a little while. I expect we’ll be talking about my adventures again, soon. She talked about something else, while we waited for a light to change at a crosswalk.

“You remember that recording with him, and, someone, talking about scaring his wife? I had to turn it over to the court. I HAD to!” She said, with more force than expected, and not looking at me. Clearly, she had not wanted to do so, and clearly talking, at least in part, to herself.

“And?” I asked, but I knew what had happened next.

“And Bellweather thanked me for doing the right thing,” she said. “Yippee. Such a great defense attorney I am!

“Study the case for years, and think I can find a way to prove he’s innocent. We get a lucky break with the receipt, but nobody even wanted to see it today!” She said, and then continued before I could ask a polite follow on question. “I showed it to Loxley, and then gave it back to one of Bogo’s officers.”

“New trial?” I asked, and she shrugged.

“Bellweather gave Loxley a month to examine what we have, and find the actually killer. Shouldn’t be too hard,” Judy said. “Otterton said he was a weasel, he saw the mammal’s face, and we have the recording, of course.

“Might not even need a trial,” she concluded.

“Look on the bright side,” I said, when we got back to the alley, and my car. “You did help make sure justice was done. Just not the way you expected.”
Judy paused and looked around, as I waited. There was some police ‘crime scene’ tape, nearby, beyond the location of my car. Now this was just another alley where some crime or other, possibly a mugging, had occurred. I didn’t point out the additional crime scene across the street, not wanting to spend any more time here than necessary. “Did you know you would have to fight?”

“Yes,” I replied, and continued before she could ask. “I lied to you so as to not worry you. You had a great deal on your mind, this morning, and the wolves were no problem. As I expected when my sister told me about them.”

“Fine,” she said, getting into the car on the passenger side, after putting her briefcase in the back. “But, if you want to keep working together?”

I nodded, and she continued, “don’t do it again.”

“Will I lie to you again?” I asked, starting the car, and maneuvering back out into traffic. “No. No, I will not.”

“What would you like to do when we get back?” I asked, a few minutes later.

“I could sleep for a week,” she replied.

“So, if I suggested a quick shower, some mutual grooming,” I asked, keeping my eyes on the road. “How would you react?”

Judy, for her part, just about choked on the last of her coffee, and took some time to put the cup back in one of the many holders in this model sedan.

“Just how quick are we talking about?” She asked, amused now. This close, the two of us sharing a confined space, here in the car, her scent was clear. She was interested.

“I don’t have anything else to do today, do you?” I replied.

In the house, after nodding to the shrew keeping watch across the street, I took off my battered coat and hung it over a chair, while Judy used the bathroom.

“My turn,” I said, after she came out. Judy nodded, and I added, “Give me a minute, and then you can join me if you like.”

She didn’t answer, verbally, but looked rather pointedly at her smart phone, and the time display.

I opened the door when I was ready, to see Judy already in her underwear.

We stripped down the rest of the way, I started the water going, and then we got in the too small shower space, closing the curtain behind us. The shower head was at about my chest level, but angled down at the moment. Judy must have taken a shower this morning while I slept.

“Is the water OK?” I asked, looking down into Judy’s eyes, and keeping my hands to myself, for now. Her ears, of course, came up to about my nose level.

“It’s fine,” she replied, staring at the fur on my chest. Her scent told me she was very relaxed, and content

“Do me first?” She asked, and turned around. She put her paws in the back wall of the shower area, leaning away from me.

I took the shampoo and lathered up her back and ears, being careful, and thorough. She did not groan with pleasure, but I know she enjoyed it. I tried very hard not to let my hands wander too much. When it was my turn, I got down on my knees and turned away from her, and she repeated my actions, but with my longer tail, she spent more time on it that I had with her shorter one. I may have groaned a few times, and I know she laughed.

Later, outside the shower, in the main room, we dried each other off with towels, and began the somewhat laborious task of combing and brushing. I’ve heard that our ancestors used to use our tongues for this, but I’m never been very eager to get what they apparently used to call ‘hair balls’. And wasn’t THAT a term I didn’t fully understand when I was younger!

“You have so much colorfun fur,” Judy was saying, running the comb along my bare flank, down one hip, and then down that leg. She had already done my tail, of course. I understand a fox’ tail might be fascinating to a bunny, so I had not objected to her spending so much time on it.

Done with drying and having gotten at least part way dressed, I again followed her to her bedroom, and again I got on the bed first. This time, she lay in front of me so I could curl around her. She grabbed my tail, and soon, we were fast asleep.

We didn’t know it yet, but Bellweather had suggested, and Neveen had agreed, that Judy was going to continue to be Otterton’s defense attorney. She already knew everything, so, why not? Of course, there is the little matter of some whack jobs trying to kill her, but dealing with that is going to be my new job. Protecting her.