Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the movie Zootopia are owned by Disney the great and powerful. All registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.
Chronologically this is set soon after Symbiosis
Follow the Lady
Duke Weaselton twitched nervously as the zebra checked the envelope's contents. He could see Detective Wilde watching from across the street, and had a sinking suspicion if he tried to run he would be tackled by Detective Hopps. He thought he had an understanding with the pair, but understandings with the police were always a crap shoot – and in his opinion the cops played with loaded dice. He quickly reviewed his activities for the last few days as the zebra offered a grumbled, "Thanks," and moved on.
Hopps and Wilde moved in. "Duke! Good news for you, and some questions."
"But first you owe us cannoli," Judy warned.
"I owes you cannoli?"
"You do indeed," Nick told him. "But we'll spring for the coffee."
Once in the diner Duke suggested, "I will sits on da outside sos–"
"So you can make a run for it if necessary? You're on the inside. I'm on the outside. Judy is across from you."
They slid into the booth and Judy placed the order. While they waited the weasel explained, "That transaxle ya seen is poifectly legit. I was, uh, simply da matter of convenience between two friends, doing 'em a favor outta da goodness of my heart."
"There is no goodness in your heart," Judy reminded him.
"And scalping is against the law... What was the game?"
"Lions voises da zebras... Is dis why I is payin' for the cannoli? Youse will forgets what youse mistakingly dinks ya saw if I pays for da cannoli?"
"The tickets were real?" asked Nick.
"Youse tinks I would sell a fake ticket to a lion?"
"Good point. But you might to a zebra."
"I do not knows in advance who mights be interested."
"I thought you said you were just conveying the tickets from one friend to another," Judy reminded him.
"I had forgotten da friend is a zebra."
"Why don't we drop the tickets," suggested Nick. "You owe us for that little stunt with the DVDs of Midnight. Now, I personally thought it was funny–"
"It wasn't!" Judy declared emphatically.
"I said it was my opinion."
"Well it wasn't funny!"
Nick looked at the weasel, "As you can tell, someone did not find it funny. Avoid upsetting the bunny if you can. Five to ten years bad luck. Your little stunt really pissed her off, she almost put on her clothes and arrested you."
"Put on her clothes?" the weasel snerked. Nick raised his right paw, the weasel raised his, and the two exchanged a high paw slap.
"Are all males idiots?" Judy fumed.
"Pretty much," Nick confirmed, "comes with the y-chromosome. If it's any consolation we only exalt like that when the female is beautiful and desirable. When we can't believe someone so wonderful could possibly be interested in worms such as ourselves. If she were someone we wouldn't admit–"
"Stop now," she sighed. "You're making it worse. You promised Duke good news and some questions. You give him the good news, I'll question him."
"Is dis some sorta good cop – bad cop kinda ding?" the weasel wanted to know.
"How can you ask such a question?" Nick asked in mock disbelief. "This is not a professional call, just three friends sharing coffee and canolli... Oh, looks like it's on its way." The teen weasel in the black pants and starched white shirt arrived with coffee and pastries and departed. The trio in the booth remained silent as she served them.
"Anything else you need?" the young weasel asked.
"No thank you, we're fine," Judy assured her.
Once the female left Duke licked his lips nervously, "I hoid somethin' about good news?"
"Yes," Nick confirmed, "just letting you know the push to rid Zootopia of bootleg DVDs is dying down. You should be able to return to your usual racket tomorrow."
"Tanks, been scramblin' to turn an honest credit since–" Judy gave a low sarcastic laugh and he stopped. "I woiks hard for ever cred I oin."
Judy rolled her eyes, "And now the questions. Gray Hand. Numbers racket. Names. Locations."
"I does not believe dat you has praised your questions in de form of questions."
"Technically you are correct," confirmed Nick. "But you know exactly what she meant. There is a new numbers racket in town. The organizers call themselves the Gray Hand. Judy was asking for names of individuals within the syndicate and the location of their parlor."
"I has not hoid of anythin' like dis Gray Hand."
"Your name is listed as a runner for them," Judy told him.
Duke actually looked shocked, neither Judy nor Nick believed the weasel was a good enough actor to fake the look. "On a list? Me? Where?"
"It's all over the internet. Re-posted eighty-seven times. There is a list of runners for the Gray Hand and one of the names stood out. Want to guess the name?"
"Me?"
"Yep," Judy confirmed.
"Dis... Dat..." the weasel sputtered.
"And da other?" Nick suggested helpfully.
"Da Internet? Damn!"
"Want to run a search for yourself? You're there," Judy assured him.
Nick offered, "Why don't you take a bite of cannoli and chew slowly while you try and figure out something to say that you think we'll believe?"
Duke took a bite of cannoli. He chewed slowly. A sip of coffee helped wash it down. "Clearly I is being blackballed by someone or someones unknown who wishes to besmooch my good name."
"You left your good name at home in your other pants," Nick warned. "And I don't think anyone would smooch it with ten foot lips. And it's only blackmail if they're shaking you down for cash. You mean you're being... Libeled? Libel or slander?" He looked to Judy.
She confirmed, "Libeled."
"Yeah... Yeah, dat is eggsactly what I means. Dere is no evidence I... Never hoid of dis Gray Hand. Honest. Swears to Dog."
"Duke Weasleton, the animal who knows every dirty little secret in Zootopia, knows nothing?" Judy mocked, "You losing your touch?"
"Maybe... Maybe dat Gray Hand stuff is all a fake! Da Internet is full of all kinds of fake news, right?"
"Got a lot of good information too," Nick assured him. "Of course, one does need to use some critical thinking while reading it, and that is something in dreadfully low supply since the politicians who need idiots to support them keep cutting funds for education. However, it certainly appears that whoever made those posts believed the Gray Hand was real, and that you are a runner for them. While that is not evidence the Hand exists it is going to make the Police look for them, and you will be a very high suspect. Should the Hand contact you and ask you to be a runner, give us a call."
"Yeah. Yeah. Sure," the sweating weasel promised.
Back in the police car Judy complained, "Now he thinks we can't solve anything without him, and we have to report we couldn't find the Gray Hand, even though we did."
"You agreed to it when we found out who was behind it."
"I wasn't thinking about Duke's reaction – or reporting we failed an assignment."
"Having Duke underestimate us could be a good thing. And no detectives have a one hundred percent success rate."
"Remind me again how Duke underestimating us is a good thing."
"Could be a good thing. I'm not making promises. If he thinks we're easy to fool he'll be sloppy in his lies... Notice how bad he was today?"
Judy nodded agreement.
"Well, if he thinks that fooled us he'll probably even be worse since he thinks we'll believe him."
"But it still looks like we failed our assignment."
Nick shrugged, "Any hard evidence, at the moment, the Gray Hand really exists and isn't an Internet rumor?"
"No, but–"
"So, if we never hear about it again did we fail?"
"You and I both know–"
"But you agreed."
"Fine," she answered and dropped it for the moment. "Oh, stop at grocery store. I forgot something we need for dinner tonight."
Duke took out his cell phone to make a call before trying to move his last few tickets. The second number he dialed was picked up.
"Golden Fields Retirement Home. How may I help you?"
"Yeah, I wishes to speak wid my gran, Missus Weasolini, but she is not answerin' da phone in hers room."
"She is probably in the recreation room. May I take a message?"
"Dis is impotent. Can you gets her on da line or tells her to goes back to da room?"
A minute later he heard, "Hello?"
"Nonna? Problems."
"Dominick? What's up?"
"Duke, Nonna, an' da–"
"You were Dominick when I changed your diapers."
"An' ya stuck pins in my little ass."
"Changing your butt should not have been nonna's job. I was busy with the family business. If your mom wasn't going to help the mob it was her job to wipe your butt."
"Look, I do not calls to reminist about da past. Da Bulls is lookin' for da Gray Hand."
"Have you been talking with the police?"
"Dey hauled me into da station and woiked me over wit rubber hoses but I did nots say nothin'. Howsoever, dey claim dere is ads up on da Internet for da numbers, even namin' da runners! An dat is da reason I gots hauled in for questionin'."
"Have you seen... The bulls wouldn't have pulled you in without... They said the Gray Hand?"
"Dey asked abouts it by name."
He heard her sigh, "I am working with amateurs here. I swear, most of them have no idea how a racket operates. Put it up on the Internet? Who would...The fink was that Fishbein!"
"Fishbein? I does not know da members of da new mob. Who is dis Fishbein?"
"An otter. His room's in the north wing."
"What makes ya shure?"
"First, his kids got him a tablet, he's posting all the time. He takes pictures of his food and texts it out. Who care what his lasagna looks like? And he was in advertising, he doesn't appreciate keeping things on the QT."
"Why did ya ask him to join da mob?"
"Missus Diaz is losing her eyesight. I need someone to send checks to winners... He may wake up tomorrow without his teeth."
"I knows he done ya wrong, but breakin' his teeth seems hard."
"Breaking his... Who said anything about breaking his teeth? He leaves them in a glass while he's asleep. A couple days drinking oatmeal through a straw will teach him. This getting old is hard, Dominick. I should have gone out in a shootout with the cops twenty years ago when I had the chance. Oh, next time you bring out the money I need a couple bottles of wine. Good stuff. The cheap stuff is for high school students."
"Gran, da doctors say no more wine for youse."
"Doctors? Phaah, what do they know? I've outlived my last two doctors. Bring the wine."
"But, Nonna, I wants–"
"Dominick, Dominick... Who bought you your first deck of marked cards when you were five?"
"You did, Gran."
"Is smuggling in a couple bottles of the good stuff such a burden? After all I've done for you?"
"Fine, I will brings da wine."
"Bring more... Some of the members of the Gray Hand may want something to buy with the money they're making from the numbers racket. A reasonable markup for us on each bottle and the money all ends up back with me. Ah, Dominick, I don't know why I left the numbers, sweetest racket I was ever in."
"This whole thing stinks," Judy grumbled.
Nick took a sniff of the salad he was making, "No it doesn't."
"You know what I mean."
"No, I don't. What exactly do you mean?"
"I mean tipping off Duke that the police are looking for the Gray Hand. I mean the fact he thinks we're too dumb to solve things without him."
"You said that before. Having Duke think we're stupid bothers you that much?"
Judy hesitated. "I'm not sure if that's the biggest thing bothering me or not. Today was just wrong. The numbers racket it against the law."
"True enough," Nick shrugged, "but the Zootopia lottery is legal. Zootopia Mega-Lottery has two cred tickets. Numbers game lets you place a bet for as little as a dime. You've got a much better chance of winning at the numbers, and they pay out a higher percentage of the take. So–"
"And no one pays taxes on their winnings!"
"You make that sound like a bad thing. The question is, is the numbers game illegal because of moral outrage over gambling or so that the city fathers can rake in the loot from two cred lottery tickets?"
"It's illegal, and we're–"
"You really think the police need to raid an old animals home? You really want to send a black maria down to load it up with octogenarians?"
Judy assumed a puzzled look, "What does their religion have to do with anything?"
Nick rolled his eyes, "Do you know how crazy that sounds?"
"Crazy that sounds? Is that one of your old novelty tunes? Doesn't sound familiar, maybe you should hum a few bars and–"
"Why are you acting like a dumb bunny?"
"Because, at the moment, I'm a frustrated bunny. I'm trying to get this out of my head. We're supposed to be enforcing the law, and this is... Did I tell you that my first day on the police force I gave myself a ticket for a meter violation?"
"Yes, you did. You were a younger rabbit then – fresh off the carrot farm in Bunnyburrow. The world was black and white, all rabbits were good and virtuous and all foxes evil and treacherous. And then you met a charming fox who swept you off your feet and you discovered the world is by no means so simple and there are many shades of gray."
"Our job, as police officers, is to stop crime. It's not our job to decide what crimes to go after and what to ignore. We let the courts define the punishment."
"The courts are concerned with law. My feeling is that as police officers we should be interested in promoting justice. Our priority is doing what is best for Zootopia. If you're going for black and white... A five year old raccoon darts out into the street. There is a truck coming. The child panics. A wolf on the sidewalk sees what's happening, dashes into the street and saves the young coon. Now, in your black and white world, you'd write a citation to the wolf for jaywalking and let the courts decide how to punish him for breaking the law."
"Your example is silly."
"No, it's overly simplified, but not silly. If you're going to cite any animal for any violation then–"
"Duke's grandmother is not a wolf saving the life of a young raccoon."
Nick shrugged, "The principle is the same. There are things that hurt society. There are things that help society. Is there such a thing as neutral? I'll give the Gray Hand a neutral. If you won't give me neutral I'll put running a numbers racket from an old animals home on the positive side. Even old animals need a hobby. They're going to send out a possum with a walker to threaten to break someone's legs?"
"We don't pass the laws. We don't decide on punishment. We... I... Sorry, I'm just frustrated."
"So I gathered, first the dumb bunny routine and then the debate on moral norms. I get the idea that our after dinner plans are canceled, you are not in the mood."
"I think our after dinner plans are exactly what I need to get my mind in a happier place... My mind and the rest of me."
"I'm not sure of my mood at the moment."
She threw her arms around him and hugged him, "Please, Nick. What can I do to get you back in the mood?"
"Well... You might undo those next two buttons before we eat. I'm sure I could see my way clear to returning–"
"No way," Judy told him firmly, undoing one button. "If I unbutton two you'll see clear to... Well, it was after dinner plans, remember?"
"There are things more pleasurable than eating, and gazing on your lovely countenance is one of them."
"You don't need me unbuttoned to look at my face. And we need to eat dinner before we go to the bedroom. You'll need to keep your strength up for what I have in mind."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Take is any way you like."
"Oh, I think I'm getting back in the mood," he assured her. His arms were around her, but his right paw began to drift south, past her bunny tail to her–
"After dinner," she reminded him
Nick pouted, "You never let me have any fun."
"After dinner," she repeated.
–The End–
Some inspiration for the story goes to Wynonie Harris and Grandma Plays the Numbers, whose lyrics include, "We found out that grandma plays the numbers." Too much of a spoiler to use for the title.