%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
An old school film noir style detective story with anthros. Sound like fun? |
| [Introduction]
Furson City, Autumn, 1935. Allan "Ace" Wolfe is a former cop turned P.I. who hasn't had a case in over a month. One night, as he sits in his office with a bottle of whiskey as his only company, The door opens and in steps a ravishing sight. A beautiful dame that's a total fox, in more ways than one. She tells him she has an important job for him, and what follows is a story of greed, betrayal and murder. Will Ace get to the bottom of it all? Or will he end up in the morgue? (To add to the ambiance of the story, and just for fun, I suggest imagining everything in black and white as you read the story.) |
| It was just starting to get late when she walked in. I was sitting at my desk with a bottle of booze in front of me, and a half full glass in my hand. It had been weeks since my last case, and I was beginning to wonder if there was even anything going on in this city anymore. Thinking of maybe an early retirement when my office door opened and she entered. She wore a flowing long dress with her longer, bushy tail clearly visible swaying behind her, and one of those fluffy scarves draped around her shoulders. “Mr. Wolfe?” I grunted in response “You’re not busy, are you?” I reached into my desk and pulled out a pack of cigars, lighting one before replying “Not since l busted that bunch of counterfeiters last month. Since then, it’s been slower than molasses around here, honey. Do you need something?” She nodded “Yes. I need your services. My name is Angela Viscane, I’d like to hire you for an important case.” “Really?” I said, taking a drag from my cigar before continuing “What’s so important about it?” “Well, you see, it’s my father. He’s dead.” I could already tell where this was going. “Let me guess. You have reason to believe he was murdered.” She nodded. “What makes you think that?” “Well, my father was a wealthy and powerful man. So, as you can imagine, he had made a good number of enemies throughout his career. I’ll be honest, much of what my father did wasn’t entirely legal. He ran a speakeasy during prohibition, and even partook in bootlegging himself for a while.” “I take it that’s how he made his enemies?” “Some of them. The local mobs didn’t like him taking their customers. Ironically, after this depression started and prohibition was repealed, he had no choice but to turn to them for help. So they hired him as an enforcer. Turns out he was pretty good at it, and it paid quite well.” “So you think he was killed by some rival gang?” “It’s possible, though I have no proof. My father was far from perfect, but he loved his family and did what he had to do to provide for us. I want you to find out who killed him. I can pay whatever you ask.” I gotta admit, I wasn’t too keen on investigating the murder of some mobster. Those guys whacked each other all the time just for fun. But seeing as it was unlikely I’d get another offer like this in the foreseeable future, I decided to take the case. I thought for sure it would be an open and shut case. Boy, was I wrong. |
| There's a saying about how too many cooks in a kitchen spoil a meal. Same is true about Private Investigators. This was the line of thought that I had as I watched the dame enter the office of Ace Wolfe. As a rabbit, I, Brandon "Buster" Hops, would normally have nothing to do with a fox, or a wolf, but a meal ticket was a meal ticket, and given the lack of opportunities, one took what jobs they could. So, I opened the door, and saw Ace talking to the vixen. He looked at me. "Buster," he said. "What are you doing here?" "Same as you," I said, grabbing a glass, and helping myself to some of his whiskey bottle. "Is this your partner?" the dame asked. "We've worked together before," Ace said. I had to grin as I swallowed the contents of my glass. He was honest, if nothing else. It hadn't been just him that broke up that counterfeiting ring a month back. It was too much for just one wolf. He'd needed help. "What's the job?" I asked, refilling my glass. Ace had good taste in whiskey. "My father was murdered," the vixen said. "I need help bringing his killers to justice." "Why not go to the police?" I suggested. "What's the complication?" "My father had some involvement with the mobs," the dame said. "That would complicate things," I said. I looked at Ace. "Need some assistance?" |
| I couldn't help but chuckle when Buster asked me that. "I won't say no, that's for sure." I said as I got up to get my coat and retrieving my magnum revolver from a drawer in my desk. "You've saved my skin on more than one occasion. I guess you could say you're my good luck charm of sorts." I joked, and Buster smiled "Just don't get any ideas about stealing my feet while I'm sleeping." He said. The three of us left the office and got in my car, with Ms. Viscane giving directions. "So, just how did your father die?" I asked "The doctor said he was poisoned. But the strange thing is, when his body was found in his study, there was a suicide note. I know for a fact he had no reason to kill himself, so that's why I suspect murder." "Poison?" I said thoughtfully "That's not like a typical mob hit. Usually they'll just pop their target in the head and be done with it." "Or gun them down in a hail of tommygun fire." Buster added. "Are there any others you suspect of killing your father?" "It would be easier to list the people I don't suspect." Said Angela. "I come from a rather large family, many of whom held a grudge against my father for one reason or another. Turn left up here, and follow the road until you reach an iron gate." We followed her directions, leading us to a large manor on the outskirts of the city. One thing was certain, this was going to be a very long night for us. |
| Clearly the dame had plenty of money, I thought as I looked the place over. The question was, how much was hers, and how much belonged to someone else. Ace was busy chatting with her while I got down to business, and made sure that no one was trying to set a trap for us. After all, one moment you're checking a closet for clues, and next thing you know, the gardener decides to use a billhook to try to de-ear you. Almost happened once actually. Luckily, after shoving my gun into his gut, he became more reasonable. Thankfully, there was no gardeners with billhooks nearby. In fact, there was no staff - not even the usual maid or butler one would expect in a place like this. |
| No Gardeners with billhooks indeed. My name is Sasha Sloth, I am a 15 year old Three Toed Sloth, I was one of the Gardeners of this place but Ms. Viscane has dismissed all the servants from the house for the time being, well all except me, I may not work tonight, but I'm allowed to stay and take a nap in my favorite tree, I think she has a soft spot for me. I was born in this place, my Mother came from Costa Rica looking for oppritunity in America while she was pregnant, my Mother died of a fever when I was three years old like most tropical creatures who come to the North they say...Many of the Sevants of the House call me 'Senorita Sonambula' really because I've lived here all my life I don't speak any Spanish and I'm more alert than my sleepy sloth eyes would appear, I was sleeping in my favorite tree when I saw the detective and his assistant come in, I must have been perfectly camphlaged because they didn't notice me |
| We entered the foyer of the manor, and Angela lead us to a lavish living room where several other members of her family were gathered. Apparently, they had just gotten back from the funeral not too long before we arrived, because they were all still dressed for it. "Angela, who is this?" Asked one of the older foxes, who I presumed to be Ms Viscane's mother. "This is Detective Wolfe, and his partner Detective Hops. I've hired them to get to the bottom of father's death." At these words, there was a sudden eruption of protests from several members of the family, until Angela managed to quiet them. "I'm sorry, but something just doesn't seem right. It's all highly suspicious to me, and I know father would never have killed himself. This is the only way we can be certain." One of the foxes, an older male dressed like a priest, stepped forward. "Mr. Wolfe, I too have doubts over the true cause of my brother's demise. I tried for many years to get him to give up on his shady business, but to no avail. I warned him it would be the death of him. I just never thought I would be the one presiding over his funeral." "Now, now, we still don't know if Richard's death was business related." Said the older female from before. "If this is what it takes to give us peace of mind, then so be it." I pulled out my notebook and pen "Alright, I'll start by interviewing each of you and taking statements. Afterwards, I'd like to see the victim's bedroom and where the body was found to search for any evidence that may have been left behind. I'll start with the victim's brother, the preacher. The rest of you can wait outside the room until I call you." |
| Personally, I make it a habit to not trust priests, or others of that sort of cloth. They get so caught up in the works of God, they miss what was real. Other ones however, they were worse, like nuns that went around slapping your left hand with a ruler, just because it wasn't the 'right' one. As Ace chatted with that particular fox, I walked over to the window, rubbing my left hand. Even now, the sight of folks wearing such garbs made it sting in pain. I looked out the window, and that was when I noticed the sloth up in a tree. "I see you have a gardener," I said. |
| I noticed the Rabbit looking at me in the window...I tried to remain as motionless as possible Ms. Viscane went over to him, even without being able to hear I knew she was telling him my story, how I was the child of an immegrant from Central America who died not long after I was born and that even though I was a servant she viewed me as sort of a 'Younger Sister' |
| After questioning each member of the family, there were three in particular that stood out. First, there was the preacher. He claimed to have tried to dissuade his brother from his life of crime, but there was something about him and his story that didn't add up. Something told me I should check into this guy's record. Then there was Victoria Viscane, Angela's sister. Apparently, her father never approved of her husband, and they had a heated argument a few days before his death. Lastly, there was the victim's oldest son, who had been rather particular about how as much as he hated to say it, he was almost glad his father had died because he had just found out he was planning to cut him from his will, but died before he could do so. When he mentioned this, I asked to see a copy of the will. Wouldn't you know it? All three top suspects stood to inherit quite a significant amount of cash upon the victim's death. Hops and I had a private conversation with Angela, wherein I gave here what I'd learned so far. "So you think it was a member of our own family?" She said in shock. "Still too early to come to any conclusions." I said "In the meantime, I'm going to need to see where the body was found, and your father's bedroom." |
| Priests - never a big fan of them, and with the amount of money mentioned, it wouldn't surprise me if this one sold his soul to the Devil to get said money. The daughter - to be fair, fathers always hate their daughters' choices in their husbands, or at least that's how it was in my family - father never liked any of the guys my sisters picked, and my maternal grandfather never liked him either! Then there was the son - still, to be fair, I never got along with my old buck - he wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, but instead I'd joined the Army, and after a training incident wherein I'd gotten my leg broke, I'd become a private investigator - even to this day he refuses to speak to me. But it was the dame I was curious about. I didn't like the idea of being set up by a client, so she was on my list, just in case. |
| I couldn't hear what was being said but I knew they talking about the dead fox, I didn't know the details and it wasn't my place to know...Sloths are looked down upon as slow, lazy exotics from the exotic lands of South America most only see us for being a 'cog in the wheel' and to be honest most of us prefer it that way...Means we gets much more 'Me Time' then if we were leaders and 'Kings of the Urban Jungle' call us hedonistic but we prefer simple pleasures to power and fame |
| Angela lead us to the study, saying her father had been found slouched over his desk, a bottle of poisoned wine next to him. "You mentioned a suicide note." I said "Do you still have it?" She gave me the note, and I stayed it in my pocket for later. Upon a thorough search of the room from top to bottom, we found no signs of forced entry. "So that means if the victim was indeed murdered, they let the killer into the room." "And that means it was someone they knew and trusted." Hops finished. Afterwards we inspected the bedroom and found nothing there as well. "What did you do with the bottle your father was found with?" They had already disposed of the bottle's contents, but the label showed it was from Charlotte Vineyards, a very expensive brand. "My father always had refined taste in liquor." Said Angela. "Do you have anything your father wrote himself? A journal, perhaps?" Angela retrieved her father's personal journal, and I compared the handwriting to the note. It was an exact match. "So my father really did poison himself?" Angela asked disheartened "It certainly seems that way, unless the killer forced him to write the note." I said "We still need more evidence. Your uncle, the preacher. What church does he work at?" "St. Johnson's Cathedral. It's on the west side of the city, near the docks." We bid Angela farewell for now, and left the manor and headed back to the car. "So what do you make of all this?" I asked Hops. |
| I couldn't help but agree with Hops on both his sentiments. What I had thought would be a simple case was turning out to be more complex than I had anticipated. As for Angela, she may have looked pretty, but something told me to keep my guard up around her, just to be sure. Then again, when you're in my line of work, if you know what's good for you, you always have your guard up. We drove to the church Angela mentioned, and it turned out there was a service going on. I found it odd that they would hold one at this time of night, but we sat in a back pew and waited for it to finish. After the congregation left, we approached the black cat serving as the priest. "Can I help you, my sons?" "Perhaps." I said. "I'm Detective Wolfe, and this is Detective Hops. We need to ask you some questions." Before the cat could answer, suddenly there was a loud BANG!, as the pastor fell backwards with a hole in his head and his brains splattered over the altar. We instantly spun around to see a masked figure holding a smoking gun before immediately turning to flee. The two of us drew our own guns and gave chase. The figure got into a waiting car and took off like a bat out of hell, as we got into my own car and began the pursuit. I said nothing as I stomped on the gas, but I had a gut feeling that whoever this gunman was, he had shot the preacher to keep him quiet, which meant he knew something important about our case. If we could catch him, there was a good chance we would get to the bottom of all this. |
| To be honest, I almost felt bad for the dead priest. One moment you're about to potentially pass on spiritual advice to those seeking it, and the next, you're dead. "I hope that the priest's death isn't some distraction," I said. "I'll be pissed if that's the case." |
| We chased the shooter and his driver for about four or five blocks before the shooter leaned out their window with a tommygun and opened fire at us. "Son of a bitch!" I growled as bullets pierced my car's body and shattered the windshield "I just finished paying this thing off!" Hops returned fire with his pistol, managing to blow out one of their rear tires. They spun out of control and crashed into a light post. We pulled up beside the wreck and saw the driver had been ejected from his seat through the glass, and was currently writhing in pain in the middle of the street, his face looking like a big pincushion due to the shards of glass lodged in it. But our shooter had gotten out of the car and was running down the street. We took off after him, easily catching up in our car as he came to a stop when Hops threatened to blow his brains out like he did to the poor pastor. We cuffed the guy and took off his mask, revealing he was a lion. We asked him why he killed the priest. "Just a job." He said "My boss wanted to make sure he stayed quiet." We asked him who his boss was, but he refused to say anything else. Legally, since we aren't official police, we couldn't really due anything more. So we put him in the backseat and called an ambulance for his injured friend from a nearby phonebooth before heading back to the church, where the cops were already doing their usual routine for a crime scene. And who should we run into but my old partner, a lizard named Thomas Johnson. Yeah, I used to be a cop, up until five years ago when I was discharged for "Use of excessive force". But thats neither here nor there. "Hello, Tom." I said as we approached him, bringing our shooter in tow. "Good to see you, Ace. Who's this?" This is the guy responsible for plastering the altar with the preacher's brain matter. Says he was hired to do it, but won't say by who." "Well, maybe our boys at the station can loosen his tongue. How's the Misses, by the way?" Yes, I was married once, too. Let's just say things got too complicated for the wife to take. "She's not a misses anymore, at least not to me, officer." "It's sergeant now, actually. But thanks for saving us the trouble of finding our killer. We'll take it from here." It's not often a private investigator gets a thank you from a cop. They usually see us as stealing their job, no better than vigilantes. But Johnson was a friend, and at the end of the day, we were both on the same side. |
| It didn't make sense to me. Most crooks knew better than to kill a priest, or some other religious figure. It was bad juju to do so. That, and other crooks would be gunning for those behind it. Most had standards. |
| Around three nights later, Hops and I were back at our office, sitting at a table and sharing a bottle of whiskey. "Any word from Sergeant Johnson?" Hops asked as I was going over the notes for our current case. "Still nothing." I said. Neither of us had a clue as to what exactly that priest could have known that someone would want him dead. But something told me it involved Angela Viscane's preacher uncle. We had gotten into a few rounds of poker to pass the time when the phone rang. It was the call we had been waiting for. "Hello?" "Ace, it's me, Tom." "So what's the deal? Did our preacher killer talk?" "It took a while, but eventually he cracked like an egg." "I'm not even going to ask how you did that. What did he say?" "Said he was sent by Don Perroni. If that's true, you're in way over your head with this case." Don Peroni was the head of the biggest crime syndicate in the city. They say he considered everyone who worked for him to be family, some of them even calling him "Papa Perroni". But don't think that meant he was soft. He was absolutely ruthless to his enemies and anyone who crossed him. They say he rose to power by inviting the heads of the other city gangs to a fancy dinner, and fed them all pasta with a sauce laced with cyanide. They never found the bodies, but the rumors that followed led to this tactic joking becoming known as the "Perroni Special". "Don Perroni? If that's the case, I could probably use some backup on this one. Think you could spare some officers?" "I'll have to put in a word with the chief. It might take some time." "Forget it, then. I'll arrest him myself." Before Tom could object, I had already hung up. Hops looked at me as if I had just grown a second head on my shoulders. "Are you insane?" He said "Going after Perroni by yourself?" I didn't answer his question, instead I threw on my coat and loaded my magnum. "Everyone knows Perroni spends most of his time at the Dancing Cat. He's probably there now. Are you coming?" With an exasperated sigh, Hops stood and followed me. "I just know we'll both regret this." I heard him mutter. |
| "Of course, it's really going to suck for me," I said. "Why do you say that?" Ace asked. "I dated his sister, and slept with her." Ace looked at me, concerned. "I didn't know that she was related to him at the time!" I exclaimed. "I only found out after I met her parents for the first time, and then he showed up for dinner. Worse than that though, I accidently tripped him while leaving the bathroom - there's a reason he has that messed up nose." |
| Well I was back to work the next day tending the garden raking the leaves, I try to stay as far away from the family as possible their drama is not anything I want |
| We took a cab to the Dancing Cat, due to my car being repaired thanks to Perroni's hitman. When we got there, I saw that my hunch had been correct. There sat Perroni in the center of the room, surrounded by ladies in lingerie and some of his associates, buy them drinks and smoking expensive cigars. He was a tabby cat, a rather large one too, dressed in a fancy black suit, with one of the club dancers sitting on his lap. Hops and I approached him, with Hops doing everything he could to avoid being noticed. "Can I help you gentlemen?" He asked, not realizing who we were. "Actually yes." I said "You can help us by coming quietly with us tongue police station. You're under arrest, Perroni." At those words, his associates stood and drew guns from hidden holsters. But Perroni signaled for them to stand down, a smile on his fat face. "You think this is the first time I've been brought in?" He said arrogantly "Sure, I'll come quietly. But I'm telling you now, you're only wasting both our time. With my connections and influence, I'll be free by noon tomorrow." "Not this time, you won't." I said "We have a confession linking you to the murder of a priest. You'll probably get the chair for this, or maybe, life in prison. Depends on how cooperative you are." That wiped the smug smirk right off his face as I cuffed his hands behind his back. But as I moved to do so, he recognized Hops. "Hey, don't I know you?" He said. |
| "Not as well as your sister does," I said. "That being said, we broke up on good terms, and we still talk to one another, even having lunch every now and then. Now, I know you care about her, so don't go breaking her heart by trying to have me killed. She just might plainly put a hit out on you if you did that." Perroni chuckled. "You have a point there. No one wants to upset her, and I'd hate to have her as an enemy." |
| As we exited the club, a squad of police cars pulled up out front. Looks like Johnson sent that backup after all, too bad it was late. We told the cops what had happened, and ty threw Perroni in a paddy wagon and gave us a ride to the station. As Perroni was in the interrogation room, the good Sergeant asked if we wanted to do the interrogating. "Isn't that your job?" I chuckled "Normally, yes. But I'd be willing to let you two stand in this one time." Hops and I looked at each other and smiled. This was going to be fun. |
| (Sorry I keep skipping can't think of things to contribute) As I was napping in my favorite tree Angela called to me and told me she wanted to send me away for a few days I was shocked! I've always lived at the house |
| Me and Hops entered the room where Perroni was being held. "Do you even realize what a huge mistake you're making?" He said "If you prosecute me, and i get life or the chair, there will be chaos all over this city. Don't you see? I'm the one who keeps a leash on every crook in this town. Do you know how much power and influence my position holds? Once I'm gone, they'll all be looking to take my place. It'll be a city wide gang war, and the streets will run red with blood. And it will all be on your head, unless you release me, and we go about our business like nothing happened." He had a point. Getting rid of Perroni would create such a huge power vacuum in the city underworld, and everyone with a gun that wasn't a cop would be looking to fill it. But we needed whatever info he had on our case. As much as I hated it, Perroni was right. Him being gone would cause a lot more problems than it would solve. We really had no choice but to cut a deal with him. |
| "Perroni, I know you too well," I said. "You got a few cops and prison guards in your back pocket. Probably even be safer to run things from behind bars. It's become rather popular, I've heard." |
| Just then, a Jackal in a fancy suit came into the room. "Excuse me, gentlemen. But would you care to explain to me exactly why my client was wrongfully arrested without a warrant?" I couldn't help but let out a slight groan. I really hate lawyers, always impeding cases and getting the worst kinds of offenders off with a slap on the wrist. "Your client is responsible for ordering the murder of an innocent man, and possibly is connected to the murder of another." "And what proof do you have of that, may I ask?" "The one he hired to do the hit confessed that he was told to do so by Perroni." "Regardless, my client's bail has been paid and he is free to go. His guilt will be decided at the trial." I couldn't believe this! No doubt Perroni had a lot of people on his payroll, including judges and other public officials. Most likely he'd just get such a judge to preside over his trial, or bribe\threaten the jury. Beginning to see why I hate lawyers, yet? |
| I had to grin as I saw the lawyer. "Hello Peter." The jackal looked at me. "Hello, Brandon. Been a couple of weeks." "Little Timmy over the cold yet?" I asked. "Doing much better, thanks," said Peter. "Tell that sister of mine that I said 'Hi'," I said. "Will do," said Peter. "Now, me and my client have some business to conduct." "Understood," I said. "Take care." Peter and Perroni left. "You know that lawyer?" Ace asked. "He married my sister," I said. Ace looked at me. "Listen, he's honest," I said. "While he might be Perroni's lawyer, Pete's a good man, and while he might be representing that bastard, said bastard has to be really careful - Perroni can't exactly order his men to commit crimes while he's in earshot, as then he'd have an obligation to report it." |
| So Angela told me she would put me in a nice boarding house for a few days but I still didn't like the idea |
| I don't normally just take people's word for anything, but I knew Hops wouldn't lie. Then, I had an idea. "If Perroni won't talk to us, do you think his lawyer could get him to say what we need to know?" |
| "Depends on the situation," I said. "Even if he knows Perroni is guilty, he can't just make the guy talk, and Perroni isn't an idiot - he wouldn't talk unless there's some kind of deal, like a reduced sentence. Also, even if Perroni told Peter that he'd ordered the hit, Pete's under no obligation to tell us, unless Perroni's planning to commit another crime or there's going to be an addition to the current murder." "There's a reason I hate lawyers," said Ace. "They keep innocent folk from going to jail," I said. "Had a cousin accused of assaulting a cop in Kansas City. Pete was able to explain to the jury that not only was said cousin not the guilty one, he was three states over watching a baseball game at the time of said assault - photograph in the local paper had him sitting behind home base. No way he could have done it unless he drove five hundred miles in sixty minutes between the time of the assault and the time the photograph was taken." |
| Okay, so maybe not all lawyers are so bad. Still, we had to think of a way to convince Peter to get Perroni to say what we needed to know. Then I remembered what he had said earlier about his sister. I couldn't help but smile deviously as I suddenly had another idea. We caught up with Peter and asked if he knew Perroni's sister. He said he had met her before. Perfect. "Listen, Peter. Hops and I are in the middle of a case of our own, and we have reason to believe that your client knows something important about it. We need you to get him to tell what he knows. By any chance, does Perroni's sister attend St. Johnson's Cathedral?" "As a matter of fact, she does. She happened to have mentioned it last time I saw her." "Would she be upset if she found out the pastor there was murdered?" "I would assume so. From what I've heard, they were quite close spiritually." "Well then, imagine if she found out her brother had ordered it." "Wait. You're saying you want me to blackmail my client?" "Technically, it wouldn't be blackmail because we're not getting any personal gain from it. We just need to know why he had the preacher shot. Your client is the prime suspect in a murder, and we have a confession linking him to said murder. He knows he's not likely getting out of this, even with you as his defense. Convince him that maybe if he tells us what he knows, he can get a lighter sentence or something." "Why should I do this for you? Just because you asked?" I hesitated. "If this works, I'll owe you a favor. We're both supposed to be on the same side of the law, right? Maybe someday you'll need my help." Peter sighed. "I'll try. But I make no promises that I'll get him to talk." |
| As Pete left, I looked at Ace. "If I were you, I'd go to church tonight." "Why do you say that?" Ace asked. "You'll need the help from on high," I said. |
| I put a hand on Brandon's shoulder. "I know this is kinda shady, but if it works, we'll be closer to settling this case once and for all. Besides, maybe when I meet God he might thank me for catching the man who ordered one of his servants murdered. Who knows?" We sat outside the room that Peter and Perroni were in for what felt like hours. Then, Peter finally stepped out. "So? Did he cooperate?" |
| When I was at the Bording House, I met an Older Woman, a Mongrel Dog who had sympathy for me being an exotic alone in a forgein country...She offered to take me to Church...I accepted not wanting to stay in this odd smelling house |
| "What do you mean?" I asked "Well, before he told me what you need, he made me guarantee that he won't get the death penalty. Which, if he is behind this priest's murder, will be rather difficult." "So what did he say?" "He said that the priest in question worked with a Father Viscane, who had confided in him something rather personal, and potentially ruinous. He didn't know what, exactly. Is that what you needed?" "It'll have to do. Thanks, Peter. I owe you one." "Indeed you do. Good luck with your case." With that, we headed back to Viscane Manor. I knew something was wrong with that preacher, and if my hunch was right, he'd had that other priest killed to cover it. Maybe if we got a confession out of him, it would lead us to figuring out who killed Angela's father. |
| "Maybe he confessed to the other priest, but didn't want him to break his vow of silence," I suggested. |
| "Possibly." I said "We won't know until we confront him." We took a cab back to the Viscane home, and were greeted once again by Angela. "Ah, detective. Is there something you need?" "Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. I need to talk with your uncle again." She lead us upstairs to the guest room where he was staying, where we found him packing a suitcase. "Going somewhere, father?" I asked. |
| "I have no idea what you are talking about?" the priest said. "Did you hear that one of your coworkers was recently murdered?" I asked. "Might not be safe to leave." |
| "Ah, yes. Terrible tragedy, that." Said the preacher "But I'm afraid I've been called to the Vatican for an important meeting. Can't be avoided." Something about this didn't seem right. "What is this meeting for, exactly?" I asked. "Not quite sure. But the Pope himself apparently wants to see me." |
| "Tell me the Untranslated message, and I might believe the story," I said. "I just so happen to know Latin, and Italian, and a number of other similar sounding languages, and dialects. I'll know if you're speaking the real deal if nothing else." |
A girl about 18 bursts into the room and freezes. She's dressed in all black her black-tipped ears perked straight up on her head and she shrinks away when she sees the two detectives. "Err sorry." she hurriedly backs out of the room but Wolfe catches her arm before she can slip away. "Not so fast young lady." He pulls her back into the room where the priest and Hops are glaring at each other. "Shouldn't you be at school?" Hops questions. The fox tucks her black-tipped red tail and remains silent. "What's your name?" "Deitee." She whispers. "Last name?" She doesn't answer and Hops sighs. "Well, there's only two Kit Fox families in town. I'll go call and see what I can find." Wolfe pushes her into the chair furthest from the door. "Don't move, I'll deal with you in a minute." Her ears droop and she slumps in the chair. As Wolfe turns back to deal with the Priest and keep an eye on the girl, Hops makes his calls. Too bad Hops would find no family of hers anywhere. Deitee pulls her hood over her head hiding her big ears. No reason to pay attention to the yelling the priest and detective had begun. She might as well come up with a story while she could. |
| I didn't know who this Deitee broad was, or what she was doing here, but at the moment I had bigger concerns. |
| Truth be told, I knew that my odds on identifying the Deitee vixen were 33% one family, 33% the second, and 34% she was from out of town. For all I knew, she was the Priest's lover, or something. I didn't care - I didn't give a fig about Priests keeping their vows. Still, sometimes the surprise is seeing if the guilty will protect the innocent. For all I knew, she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. |
| Deitee fidgets in the chair, Mr. Wolfe had pushed her into. She keeps eyeing the window wondering if she could get out before Mr. Wolfe could catch her. Her best bet would be to do it before Mr. Hops came back. She sits forward and sets herself so the instant Mr. Wolfe turned away she could bolt. |
| Little did Deitee know, I could see her preparing to run from the corner of my eye. If that didn't prove she had something to hide, I don't know what would. I let her think I hadn't seen her, until I turned to face her again. "Now then, care to explain why you came bursting into the room a few minutes ago?" I asked. |
| I soon came back into the room. "Well," I said. "She isn't from around here." I hadn't bothered to call anyone, but the vixen wouldn't know that. |
| I practically had a heart attack when Wolfe spun around. I start to say something but nothing comes out. Swallowing hard I try again, itching to be anywhere else. "I d-didn't mean to burst in." Smooth I squeeze my hands together nervously. I shoot an anxious glance at the priest. I should never have allowed him to help me. I knew from the moment he scared off the bullies that he was far worse than them. He would not help me. I look back at Wolfe and feel my insides recoil knowing well I should follow suit but my dumb stupid self doesn't listen. My eyes shoot wide and I point towards the priest. Both detectives fall for the fake and I'm jerking the window open before either can react. |
| By the time hope and I had turned around again, she was gone. "Damn it!" I said as I looked out to see her running into the distance. I turned to hops and said "It's obvious she knows something we don't, possibly something that can help us. You go after her, I'll stay here and see what our preacher friend can tell us." Hops nodded and went after Deitee. "Have a seat." I said to the priest " Something tells me this is going to be a long night." |
| One good thing about being a detective, you know all the best, and second best, places to lose pursuers. Of course, I also knew the third best places, and so on. After all, sometimes the Best know that the Best is the Best, so they'll take the Next Best to throw folks off. |
| The moment I had gotten out I had bolted but knowing they had watched which direction I went I had decided to circle back to the building where I assumed they wouldn't think to look. I had ducked into the cellar and had chosen to stay till morning and leave then but my plans were ruined when only moments later Detective Hops had pulled the cellar doors open. No one had ever found me so quickly ever. I had been warned if the law caught me or got involved I was on my own they would no longer be at my back. I yelled at Hops for not following protocol and looking here last. His attitude never changed and he didn't do anything to hurt me which scared me more than if he would have. It wasn't normal and it scared me. Too frightened of what would happen if I tried to run again I was obedient and did as I was told. I tried a few times to make him lose his cool but nothing shook him up. By the time we arrived wherever Hops was taking me I was near tears and shaking. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
