Adele Wilhelm's attractiveness is real, not soft. It somewhat speaks to every wolf, "This is me. I'm a true lady." The way she moves, speaks, and the smell of her breath reeks of femininity.
Since this morning I've been trying to contact you," said Nick. "Your husband was brought to Saint Jude Hospital."
"You mean -did he not - die?" Her hand scrambled inside her bag, bringing a handkerchief out. She cried with an almost convincing look.
"I'll command someone to go here," said Nick. Whilst walking to the door, he examined the vixen with care. This one likes males, he thought, but she had to like money more. The handkerchief did not cover her muzzle, which, when Nick looked closer, had a slight trace of a smile.
At that time, it was Miss Somers' turn to make tea. Somers was the newest and the most inefficient maid. She's not young anymore and her facial features are always worried, not that unexpected from a sheep. The water she was cooking wasn't properly boiling when she poured it inside the teacups. Poor Miss Somers really was never sure when water's boiling. That's only one of the various things that made her life so much harder.
After pouring the tea she delivered them to the workers. A few crumpled biscuits was put on each plate.
Miss Griffith, an efficient maid, is a very disciplined ewe. She worked for sixteen years in the Consolidated Investments Trust office. She scolded sharply, "The water must have not been boiling yet again, Somers!" Miss Somers' face that's full of fear reddened. She responded with "Oh, I thought this time it's actually done and boiling." Griffith thought, "She might only survive for another month, maybe, but we're still busy like this... This is really too much! The message that the imbecile made to Eastern Developments is really messy - even though this job's really simple. And how dumb of her when she's making tea. Had the old times not be merciless as for getting a capable maid - While the current one can't even close a biscuit jar properly. Such..."
As simple as a rant is in Miss Griffith's heart, it always ends as an incomplete sentence.
At that moment, Lady Grosvenor strutted in to prepare special tea for Mister Wilhelm. For him, the tea's different, the cup's different, even the biscuit's special. Only the kettle and the water's the same as those used in the mantle storage room. But this time because it's for Wilhelm himself, the water's really boiling. She made sure of it.
Lady Grosvenor is a rich and pompous vixen that's very attractive. Her attire's expensive, colored black. And her jewelery's obtained from the best and most expensive in the black market.
She strutted past the maid room without hollering, not even looking at anyone. The maidens she only thought of as wind passing by. She's Mister Wilhelm's personal secretary. Ill-informed mouths say that she's more than that, but that's untrue! Mister Wilhelm's just married for the second time with another wolf that's not only pretty, but also expensive. And this wolf absolutely could take all her mate's attention. To Wilhelm, Lady Grosvenor is nothing more than an office decoration that's actually needed, even when the office itself is already really expensive and grand.
Lady Grosvenor kept strutting, carrying the tea tray as if she's serving a meal. She went past the waiting room for important businessmens, and also the receptionist, through her own workroom, and finally, after softly knocking she entered Mister Wilhelm's bewitched room. That room is large, the floor's layered with polished wood and expensive eastern carpet with a dotted pattern. The walls are covered with soft panel from palewood. The chairs are big, cushiony, and covered with pale yellow sheepskin. Behind the gigantic inscription table from datewood, sat the center of the room's attention, Mister Rex Wilhelm.
Mister Wilhelm himself is less impressive than the room, but he tried his best. His body is big but rather weak, his fur's a pale shade of white and gray. Inside his office in Zootopia he really liked using casual attires that are made from colorful wool that's usually akin to a traditional sheep's clothing in the villages on the outskirts of Otterdam. At that time he was studying a few documents on his table while furrowing his eyebrows. Lady Grosvenor walked towards him with grace like a swan. Putting the tray on the table near her employer's elbow, the vixen muttered with a low and authoritative voice, "Here's your tea, Mister Wilhelm," before excusing herself.
That usual rite was only answered with a low growl. Lady Grosvenor sat back down on her place, before continuing her work. She called twice, fixed a few letters that was just written down and ready to be signed by Mister Wilhelm, and also received a call once.
"I feel your appointment can wait," she said with a condescending tone. "Mister Wilhelm's in a meeting." Whilst placing her phone down, she looked at the time. Ten past eleven.
At that moment, an unusual voice was heard from behind Mister Wilhelm's room, that almost went unnoticed had Grosvenor's ears didn't catch up to the noise. Even when it's held by the door, it's clear that it's a scream of someone that's in pain. At the same time, the bell on Lady Grosvenor's table ringed a long and panic one. For a moment Lady Grosvenor's unmoving because she was immensely surprised, then she rose up from her seat with uncertainty. Facing the unexpected event, her grace went away by a little bit. But she walked with a bit of doubt to Mister Wilhelm's room with her usual stride, knocking, then entering.
The view that she was greeted with destroyed her grace even more, her employer writhing in pain behind the table, his body spasming eerily.
Lady Grosvenor said, "Oh dear, Mister Wilhelm, are you sick?" But she immediately realized how stupid her question was. Without a doubt, Mister Wilhelm's in immense sickness. Even when she walked closer, his body repeatedly spasmed in pain.
Stuttering, he said, "That tea - what - did you put into that tea?! - Find help - quick - call a doctor..."
Lady Grosvenor ran outside the room. She isn't the pompous, neatly dressed secretary anymore. She's only a normal vixen that's in horrendous fear, not knowing what to do.
She hurried herself inside the maid room, exclaiming, "Mister Wilhelm's got a health attack - he's dying - we need to find a doctor - this is terrifying - I'm sure he's dying..."
Various reactions appear and each one really different from another. Miss Bell, the youngest maid, said, "Is it another Nighthowler attack? If so, we need to get the muzzles and antidotes quick. Who has a muzzle?"
Nobody had a muzzle ready.
Miss Somers said, "We need to call a doctor - now."
But even Somers who is usually efficient also received a few troubles along her way. After working for sixteen years she never had to call a doctor for the office in that city. Her personal doctor's available, but at Streatham Hill. Which doctor's near the office?
Nobody knows. Miss Bell brought a phonebook and searched the names of doctors under the letter D. But the phonebook was never classified, so the names of the doctors are not listed exclusively like taxis. Another maid suggested to call the hospital, but which one? "It must be the proper hospital," Miss Somers pressed, "If not, they won't come to our aid. I mean with the Zootopia Healthcare program, the hospital must be in the same district as our office."
Another mammal suggested to call the Emergency Hotline 155, surprising Miss Griffith when she heard it. In her opinion, that means calling the police. And that's forbidden. For a group of female mammals that are citizens of a city that provides healthcare for everyone, their obliviousness of procedure is really disheartening. Miss Bell searched the word "Ambulance" under the letter A. "Surely he has a private doctor - There must be." Miss Griffith said. Another mammal ran to find Wilhelm's private address book. Miss Griffith ordered the office assistants to find a doctor - whatever it takes, anywhere. In the private address book, Miss Griffith found the name Edwin Sandemammoth with the address pointing at Barley Street. Lady Grosvenor slumped down on her chair, brooding with voice not as graceful as usual, "I made the tea normally - really - impossible that there's something unusual..."
"Unusual?" Miss Griffith's hand that almost pressed a number stopped. "Why do you say so?"
"Mister Wilhelm himself said so - he - he said the tea had something in it..."
Miss Griffith became really conflicted between calling Woolbeck or 155. Miss Bell, who was still young and hopeful, said, "We need to give him rebreather and water - now. Are there no rebreathers in this office?"
Of course there's no rebreather in the office.
Not long after, Doctor Isaacs from Goodspeed Green and Edwin Sandemammoth met up in the lift, at the same time two ambulances stopped infront of the building. Telephone and office assistants also brought results.
A certain officer from ZPD caught wind of the news, and decided to take his time in preparing to go through the case as ordered. He's almost sure he could make a breakthrough in this unusual happening of a suspicious event. Pocketing the files that was given to him through Clawhauser, he walked outside the ZPD building with a slight tinge of doubt that this was just a simple case of severe sickness or Nighthowler at that. "Yeah - this is going to be another obscure case for me to solve without her, isn't it?" He grumbled to himself. Had he still have his partner around for the time being, this would be a run-of-the-mill investigation work that could be solved in about two days.
And his partner's already gone to visit her family and do whatever she had excused herself on for exactly four months long now, with him only solving, at most, four cases. Three when he didn't count the Ratsputin-Humphrey illegal logging as a case he completed, since it was his temporary partner Fangmeyer that managed to discover the truth during her off day.
A gust of wind blew right infront of him, causing his tie to slap his chin - which he only sighed at before taking it off just so he could not bother with any inconveniences while working on yet another case he needed to solve alone, due to Higgins squad's involvement on a cartel raid and Rhinovitch's wounds. He scoffed to himself, "That only confirmed my worries - thanks, workforce. Not that I needed your help anyway. Hmph."
A checkmate has been scored. But this is no Chess.