Chapter 2
"Svengali"
"SHUT IT!" Bogo hollered at his rambunctious officers, who all sat down and quieted in near unison.
Thus began Monday morning's rollcall.
"As you know, Officer Wilde and I had a frank and animated discussion last week. You may have seen the video," Bogo began snidely.
"1.8 million hits on Ewetube!" Snarlov called out from the back.
Bogo glared at the polar bear and then continued.
"For my sins, our new mayor has decided I need to attend . . . sensitivity training," Bogo said, sneering the last two words.
There was a second of silence before uproarious laughter filled the room. Fists pounded on the desks while Bogo snarled angrily. "Enough!"
Stiffened silence returned, even if a few officers were biting their tongues.
"Zylina Sokoloff will be taking my place starting tomorrow," Bogo said, "She's Tundratown's assistant chief and you animals –will- behave for her."
The chief paused and put his glasses on.
"But in the meantime, we have some new assignments," Bogo began, "Fangmire, Wilde will ride with you for the time being."
"What did I ever do to you, Chief?" the wolf called out sarcastically.
Ignoring Fangmire, the buffalo continued.
"Hopps will be manning the front desk with Clawhauser until she's off medical."
"By the time that cheetah gets done feeding her donuts, we'll have a 200-pound rabbit on our paws!" Wolford joked.
"Wilde won't like that!" someone else in the back added.
"Just roll her in flour and aim for the wet spot, Wilde!" McHorn spouted.
The officers in the room howled with crass laughter, all except for Nick. While his mantra may have been "never let them see that they got to you", but jokes about Judy always did – crude ones especially so. He choked back a growl, but his hackles rose on their own accord and the insides of his ears turned a hot red before they flattened against his head.
Bogo saw Nick's reaction and thumped his fist on the lectern. "Enough!"
The ruckus abated, and Nick looked thankfully at his boss.
"Alright," Bogo finally said, "Enough. Don't look so cross, Wilde, we joke because we love you."
"Who's this 'we', Sir?" Fangmire said, igniting another round of chuckles.
"And on that note," Bogo said, "dismissed!"
Officers filed out of the room, but Nick stayed seated until the room was empty. As Bogo turned to leave, the fox said, "Thank you, Chief."
"She probably would have laughed herself, Wilde, and would have expected you to, too – even if it was uncomfortable." Bogo replied and then walked out of the room, leaving Nick alone for a moment before Fangmire returned.
"Come on, stupid, time for a ride," the wolf said and not in a joking way.
The two walked down to the motor pool.
"Hey, look, I'm sorry about that howl thing . . ." Nick began, sounding earnest.
"Oh, that?" the wolf said, then laughed, "Say, you still got that app?"
Nick handed over his cellphone with a smile. "Sure, you can go ahead and delete it."
Fangmire flipped over the cellphone in his hand, then slammed it face-first into the wall.
"Oops," he said, smirking, before handing the phone back to Nick.
The fox looked down at the shattered screen, shards still held in place by the frame, then back at Fangmire. Remarkably, the phone still worked when Nick tapped the contacts button, even if the screen looked like someone took a baseball bat to a car's windshield.
"Get in the cruiser, stupid. We've got stops to make," the wolf said.
Judy had no illusions that her day would be good. She'd put off her deposition for most of the afternoon, but the time had finally arrived to suffer through it. Francine volunteered kindly for the duty and led the rabbit downstairs.
"Is Interrogation Three open?" Francine asked officer Tibbs as she and Judy arrived in the lockup wing.
"Three's open. They just got done in there. You want the shades down?" the leopard officer asked.
"Always. Thanks, Frank, you're a hon!"
Frank laughed, "Anything for you, sweetheart."
"Interrogation Three?" Judy asked nervously. "Am I in trouble?"
I-3 had a reputation for being the place where bad things happened to bad animals. She'd never seen anyone smile going in, but she'd seen a lot of animals – big animals – cry coming out. Even the room's nick-name, "The Black Mariah", recalled the harsher, meaner days of the old ZPD. "Not a good place for bunnies," Wolford had told the one time she asked about the room and she'd avoided going in it ever since.
Francine said, "Oh, no. The room is soundproof. It's the room I prefer for depositions. You'll understand."
The elephant opened the door for Judy and the pair walked into the stark room. A heavy coat of institutional grey paint covered the walls, paint-roller marks still visible. Well-scuffed jade-green linoleum squares tiled the floor. In the center of the room was a large, metal table, bolted down; two stern, upright metal chairs faced off against each other on opposite sides. A pink box of Kleenex sat in the middle of the table, looking completely out of place. Cold, blueish light bathed the room, the product of fluorescent tubes inset in the ceiling.
Judy caught the scent of three different odors, two faint and one overpowering: urine, blood and pine-scented industrial cleaning fluid.
Now that she was actually in I-3 she liked it even less than she imagined she would.
Judy jumped a little when the door closed heavily behind her.
"Nervous?" asked Francine, pulling out a chair for Judy. It was too big for her as always and she ended up having to stand on it to see over the table. The elephant stepped over to the other side and sat down, then opened her laptop.
"Ever since the accident, I've been a little on edge," she said.
"That was a bad one, Judy. How're you sleeping?" Francine asked.
"I have nightmares," Judy answered quietly, as if speaking too loudly of her horrible dreams would invite their return.
"Listen, Hon, between you and me I get those, too. I have something that takes the edge off, 'tho . . ." Francine said in a near-whisper.
"Oh," Judy said, "I've tried Chamomile tea and it really doesn't do anything for me."
"This is a little stronger, Judy. It's called Diazapam. A lot of the officers use it for bad days and bad nights. We all have them. No shame in needing a helping hand when they happen," Francine said.
"I . . . know about those. I took a few after the accident, but Nick and Chief Bogo made me throw away the rest," Judy replied hesitantly.
"When's Nick ever had a bad day? And Bogo's driving a desk. He doesn't do fieldwork anymore. They don't see the things we do. Listen, if you want, I can get you some, just enough to get you through this. They come in a scent-proof bottle so buffalo and foxes don't need to know. I'll even give you a discount," Francine said.
"A discount?" Judy asked in surprise.
"They're not free, Hon. Normally, they're 200 bucks for 20. Since we're friends, I'll do it for 100."
Judy was shocked by the offer and with the audacity with which it was made, but she made no outward sign of her alarm.
"I'll think about it," she said, trying to hide her feelings, "We should really get to the deposition."
"All right, Officer Hopps: raise your right hand. Is everything you're about to tell me the whole truth as best you can remember it?"
Judy swore her oath. Then the deposition began.
Two hours of questioning did not pass fast.
Within five minutes, Judy was drawing her first Kleenex and by the time a half-hour had passed, she'd collected a mound of tear-soaked tissues. Not that she knew how long she'd been there. Without a clock and under Francine's probing questions, minutes hung like hours. She recalled the details of the accident over and over as Francine drilled her for details. The elephant's trunk flew across the keyboard as Judy walked through every painful moment. Each time she thought she was done, Francine would have her go over it again.
"A family is dead, Judy, there can't be any doubts that you did everything you could. This is for your own protection. Go through it again, step by step, everything you heard and saw," Francine said.
There were long minutes between wracking sobs, sobs that would not abate even with Francine's gentle reassurances that everything was ok. Judy would tell herself that she was a police officer and then stiffen, only to be struck by another question that would leave her shaking. By the time they were done, she was a trembling, crying ball of grey fur. She wanted someone to hold her. She wanted out of that room with its cold blue light and green floor and faded piss reek.
Francine sat back and waited for Judy stop crying. When the tears faded to sniffles, the elephant reached into her purse and handed Judy a single pill along with her water bottle.
"Here, Hon," she said softly, "Just one to take the edge off; help you sleep tonight."
Judy hesitated, looking at the pill. She remembered Bogo and Nick's disdain, but also the peaceful numbness that erased her anxiety and terror. For a moment, the two memories were in balance. When she looked up, Francine smiled at her warmly and Judy's resolve evaporated. She swallowed the pill with a sip of water.
"Everything will be better now, just relax and breathe nice and deep," Francine said.
Judy closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She still felt the same at first, but after a couple of minutes her whole body began to feel warm and relaxed. "I think it's working," she said.
A knock at the door startled Judy out of her reverie she opened her eyes again. Francine opened the door and there stood Clawhauser holding a green folder. "Here's the toxicology report on the Sprinters you wanted," he said and handed it to Francine. Peeking in, he saw Judy's teary eyes. "Oh, sorry," he apologized and then closed the door.
"I should look at that," Judy said, feeling the edge dissipate and the memories of the deposition being pushed back into the clouds. She breathed in deeply and then exhaled a relaxed sigh. Tension melted away.
"You've been through enough for one day, Judy. I'll go over it and if there's anything interesting, I'll put it in the report. I'll see you downstairs in a little bit." Francine said, opening the door for the rabbit.
As she was about to step out of the room, Judy stopped and turned to Francine.
"I don't have a hundred on me right now – I've only got 75. Can I owe you the rest?" Judy asked weakly.
The elephant smiled and rubbed her trunk between Judy's ears. "Of course, Hon. Meet me in the motor pool after shift.
"We're even, Fangmire," Nick said as he looked at his phone.
"We'll never be 'even', Wilde, and let me explain why: I hate foxes and of all the foxes I hate, I hate you most of all," Fangmire said as he pulled up to a stop sign.
"That's a lot of pent-up aggression over a stupid howling app," Nick said with a bit of a smirk.
Fangmire looked right, and then looked left. When he saw no one was coming, he cocked his arm back and threw a punch that caught Nick right on his muzzle and slammed his head into the window!
Nick yelped and grabbed his muzzle before he turned to the wolf who'd now bared his teeth.
"Twenty-two hundred bucks – every cent she'd saved. And she lost it all on your little Rainforest Water scam. I watched my mother cry for days because she'd been rooked by a piece of garbage fox named Nicholas P. Wilde," Fangmire snarled, "and that's before she had to tell my father what'd happened to the family savings."
There was a moment of silence between the two as Fangmire pulled away from the stop sign.
Nick's sore jaw dropped and he almost tried to defend himself by saying, "The bottles did say 'from municipal sources'," but common sense won out.
"So there's no 'even' with you, Wilde. I hate you with a passion," the wolf said, "You were scum in a stupid shirt then and you're scum in a uniform now. But now your tail is mine. You're going to hate every second we're together. Even if you quit the force, I'll be there like your shadow."
Fangmire turned a corner and started scanning for something while Nick tried to shake off the effects of the wolf's punch.
"Oh," the wolf continued, "one more thing: I like Hopps, but if you decide to involve her in this, I'll personally see to it that some night, something very bad happens to her involving some perps I know. Something you don't want to think about . . ."
Fangmire paused there for a moment and then said, "Or maybe you do want to think about, like tonight when you're all alone. Is that going to get you all hot and bothered, Nick? Is that what you're going to picture next time you see her?"
Nick's eyes opened wide and his ears went flat for the second time that day. This time, his teeth were bared and he snarled at the wolf.
"Your mom was an easy mark; wolves always are," Nick couldn't hide the anger in his voice.
Fangmire laughed at him. "Hiss-hiss, little foxy. Ah, here we are."
As the cruiser pulled up, Nick recognized Finnick's van.
"Get out of the car, stupid. Time to make you unhappy," Fangmire said.
Nick got out and stayed on his side while Fangmire rapped on the back door of the van. The door opened and Finnick looked out. The little fennec saw Nick and said, "Nick! Look at you all in that blue suit! Who's your friend?"
"I'm not his friend, I'm his partner and you're illegally parked," Fangmire said, smiling coldly.
"The hell I am!" Finnick shot back, "I've been here less than a day and the limit is 48 hours."
The wolf looked up at Nick and said, "Officer Wilde, did you not tell me you saw this van parked here the day before yesterday?"
"I most certainly didn't," Nick said back. He didn't like where this was going.
Fangmire nodded, "See: he said yes. How much does towing and impound cost these days? About 500? Add the fines and we're probably looking at almost 800 bucks. Would you say that's about right, Officer Wilde?"
"Leave him alone. He didn't do anything. Aren't there puppies you should be kicking or something?" Nick said sarcastically.
"Now see," Fangmire said, "if ol' Nick here had just played ball, I'd have let you off for 200 bucks. But because Nick's got a stick up his tail – and he's a stupid fox just like you – this is going to cost you 500. It's called a shakedown, sweetheart."
Finnick looked at Nick in disbelief. "You're just going to let him do this?" the little fox asked his friend.
"Knock it off, Fangmire," Nick growled, "we're not shaking anyone down. Get back in the car. Finnick, just forget this happened."
"It's too bad Officer Wilde wasn't watching when Finnick here took a swing at me and I was forced to defend myself," Fangmire said, pulling out his nightstick and cocking his arm back. "Think I won't, Wilde? Who do you think Internal Affairs is going to believe after you tattle to Bogo: decorated veteran or former crook? Two scam-artists watching out for one another; foxes at that. Now tell your little friend to cough up the 500 unless he'd enjoy a beating. I'm just going to find the money when I search the van afterward and this way, he keeps his ride and his un-cracked skull. That's a fair deal if I've ever heard one."
Nick looked at the white wolf and felt the ache in his sore jaw. Fangmire looked back at Nick and grinned, showing all his teeth.
"Finnick, just give him the money. I'll make it up to you somehow," Nick said with deadly seriousness.
The fennec just stared at Nick in disbelief.
"Did you hear that, Finnick?" Fangmire asked, lowering the baton, "It was Officer Nicholas P. Wilde who told you to give us the money, not me. Even wearing that badge, he's still nothing but a cheap con-artist. Just like you."
Finnick pulled out his wallet and handed the wolf a sheaf of bills.
"You're dead to me, Nick," Finnick said angrily, then spit on the ground.
"What a joyful reunion, indeed," Fangmire said, counting the bills, "I'm sure you two will be seeing each other again real soon. Like in two weeks when Wilde comes around to collect another 500 from you for spitting at an officer and anything else I think up between now and then." Satisfied with the count, he stuffed half the money in his pocket and held the other half out to Nick, then jerked it away. "You'd just give it back to him anyway."
As he turned back to the car, the wolf said, "Oh – almost forgot!" then he pulled his nightstick out again and smashed the left brake light on the van. "Brake light's out; get that fixed or it's a 200 buck fine." Both Finnick and Nick looked on in shock.
Grinning at Nick, he said, "Sure, it's a cliché, but it's a fun one. Now get in the car, stupid."
"This day can't get any worse," Nick thought.
He was wrong.
Finally free from the Black Mariah, Judy pulled out her cellphone and pushed the button for Nick. After a couple of rings, the fox answered.
"Hey, Carrots!" he said cheerfully, "ready for our date tonight? I got reservations at Mon Ami, that little bistro you like so much!"
Judy steeled herself and said, "I – I had my deposition today, Nick. I don't feel like going out tonight,"
"No problem," he replied, "I'll grab a couple of Bug Burgers and some fresh produce; I'll make you a salad and we can watch some movies together. It'll be fun."
Judy cringed inside. "Um, I think I just want to be by myself tonight," she said. "I'll make it up to you another time."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
"Ok, Fluff," Nick said and she could hear the hurt in his voice, "another time. I'll talk to you at work tomorrow."
Judy hung up and felt like a thousand showers would never make her clean again.
Nick frowned as he looked at the shattered screen on his phone, the jagged shards turning the wallpaper of Judy into some kind of demonic jigsaw puzzle. She had never stood him up before. The one thing he'd looked forward to all day was gone and it left a big, empty space in him. His jaw ached, his stomach churned and his emotions roiled. With a heavy, defeated sigh and nothing further to look forward to, he decided to give up for the day and go home. Walking out into the lobby, he saw Clawhauser fiddling with his phone.
"Clawhauser," Nick thought, "Always a friend, no matter what . . ."
He walked up to the spotted cat who was browsing the latest Gazelle news on his phone.
"Hi, Nick," the plump cheetah addressed the fox warmly, then asked, "What happened to your muzzle? It's bleeding and your eye is swollen."
Nick put his hand up to his face and flinched when he touched the wet spot Clawhauser was looking at. Looking at his black-furred fingers, he was able to smell blood on them.
"Tripped on the stairs," he said, "took a real nose-dive. I'll be ok. Look, Ben, I need help: who's the cleanest cop on the force?"
Clawhauser looked at the Nick for a moment and then replied, "McHorn. Nick, what's wrong?"
Nick shook his head, "Some bad things. You've always been my friend, so the best thing I can do for you is keeping you out of it."
"Are you going to be ok?" Benjamin asked.
Nick thought for a moment, and then said, "I honestly don't know. Could you keep an eye on Judy for me? If anything seems amiss, let me know ASAP. If you could do that for me, you'd be helping me out a lot."
"Judy, too?" the cat asked.
"It's bad, Ben. Keep your eye on her and your head down. Where does McHorn hang out after work?"
"The Four Winds Bar, down in . . ."
"I know the place," Nick said. "Thanks for everything."
Nick knew the Four Winds well: he'd spent years avoiding the place – it was a cop hangout. Not one of the new places the younger guys on the force liked to frequent with Trivia Nights and Karaoke; the Four Winds was for the older and wiser set who went there to drink in silence and think about retirement without being pestered by MC's and turn-tables. It was the kind of place a scam artist stayed away from and a rookie knew he was unwelcome. Both of those reasons were going to have to go out the window. He approached the door tentatively, unsure of what to expect inside. Two jaguars from the 3rd precinct brushed passed him and entered: Nick followed them in.
The place was simple enough: a long bar and a smattering of round tables and wooden upright chairs. He'd expected it to be packed, but a quick overview showed less than 10 animals – all cops – occupying various tables. He spotted McHorn at one of them and walked over. No one seemed to take notice of Nick.
"This seat taken?" Nick asked the rhino, who looked up from his Boilermaker.
No look of surprise, just a snorting nod. "All yours, Wilde."
Nick slid into the seat and McHorn raised his finger. The bartender nodded back.
"Let me guess," the rhino said, "that bleeding muzzle and swollen eye have something to do with your company?"
"Can't I just come by and have a drink with a fellow cop?" Nick asked.
"If the last thing you drank wasn't a wine cooler, I'll give you my pension," McHorn said with another snort.
"Chablis, actually," the fox said with a light laugh. He could see the charm offensive was getting him nowhere.
The bartender walked up with a beer and a shot of something cheap and brown, putting both down in front of Nick.
"If you're going to be in a cop bar, you might as well drink like a cop," McHorn said.
Nick looked at each drink, unsure of what to do, while the rhino just shook his head.
"You drink the beer after the bourbon," McHorn said as if he was explaining Fermat's Last Theorem to a dense teenage boy.
Nick screwed up his courage and took a sip of bourbon. Instantly, he felt like his mouth caught fire and it was everything he could do not to spit it out, but to drink off his beer instead. A quick gulp of both and his throat burned down to his stomach.
"That's terrible . . ." he coughed.
That at least got a smile out of McHorn. "At least I don't have to worry about you stealing my drink when I go to take a piss. So talk to me, Wilde. Someone obviously slugged you and I don't think it was a perp."
"Clawhauser says you're the cleanest cop in the department . . ." Nick started before McHorn held up his hand to stop him.
"Let me guess, that damned Fangmire sent you to see if I'll play ball. No chance. So you can get your fluffy little ass on out of here and tell him –"
Nick held up his paw this time and said, "Fangmire's the one who punched me. You know he's dirty? Why aren't you doing something about it?"
McHorn looked at the fox across the table from him.
"I'm 52 and the fourth generation of cop in my family," the rhino said, "My old man made it to 50 before the stress and booze took him. My grandfather was 42 when some skunk with a zip gun shot him in the eye during a drug store hold-up. My great-grandfather died in the dirt back when Sahara Square was all whore-houses and saloons. I got three years left and I'll do what none of them did: make it out of this job alive. And when I do, I'm going to watch baseball, drink beer, and beat the living hell out of the first one of my grandkids that even thinks of putting on a badge. Bogo knows this, that's why he gives me an easy beat in the high-rent district. He even lets me in on a little action once in awhile. I'm not risking all that because a wolf wants to shake down some scum."
Nick looked at him in disbelief.
"Yeah, I know all about Fangmire's little side business. I'm guessing by this conversation, so do you now. Maybe you even had to lend a paw today? You thought you'd stay new-car fresh forever? But that doesn't make you a dirty cop. We all got dirt on us. Don't play his game. Whatever he's got on you, get out from under it. Step away as quick as you can. And watch your partner – Fangmire knows how you feel about her, and if he can't get to you one way, he'll try to get to you through her," McHorn said.
"Who can I trust?" Nick asked, looking around the room for any hint of a familiar face that might over-hear.
"Delgato, Wolford and Snarlov are good cops and as clean as you're going to get in the 1st. One more thing, Wilde: Fangmire has been like a Svengali to Bogo since the Antelope Tower fire. Five of our guys went into that inferno and Fangmire was the only one to make it out alive. Ever since then, Fangmire walks on water with Bogo. Fangmire has his ear and his trust. That's why no one goes after him. No one's going to stick their neck out for some penny-ante con artists getting their comeuppance. So walk careful, Wilde, and for god's sake, think before you act."
The rhino reached across the table and scooped Nick's beer and shot across to his side. "You weren't going to drink it, anyway," McHorn said.
That night, as he slept, Nick dreamt of Judy, but it wasn't a pleasant dream. The visions playing through his mind dragged him to places he never wanted to visit and showed him things he never wanted to see. When they finally released him, he woke with a start and looked around in the near-dark of his shabby apartment. The horrors of the nightmare were nowhere to be seen. With his heart pounding and fear coursing through his blood, he cursed Fangmire. He thought about calling Judy, but the red digits of his clock showed 3:00am.
"Midnight of the soul," he said to himself, then lay back down, staring into the darkness for a long while before his eyes finally closed again and fitful sleep overcame him.
Judy finally made it home after missing her stop on the bus. She could barely focus on the short three-block walk home, but at the same time, she was acutely aware of the bottle of pills in her purse. Closing her door, she pulled the bottle out and opened it.
"Just one per night," she told herself, "Just for sleep . . ."
For just a second, she thought about Nick.
"I'll make it up to him," she told herself, "I'll do something nice for him tomorrow."
The lie came easy enough that she didn't even realize it was a lie. Whatever self-loathing she had for who she was becoming was lost in a soft, narcotic haze. As her day ended, she didn't even bother to take off her clothes, or set her alarm, before she slumped on her bed and fell into a heavy, drugged sleep.
"Well look who's here!" Fangmire cried out across the bar as Francine walked in. She waved and joined his table.
"How's it hangin', wolf?" the elephant asked.
"Just had one of the best days of my life," he replied. "I think I made Wilde cry. And I got to sock him in the face!"
Francine looked delightedly surprised and then the two laughed.
"Well that's nothing," Francine said, "wait until I tell you about my day!"
The pair gossiped maliciously, sharing the delicious details of their shifts.
"You got a hundred bucks out of her? Those things are a buck each!" Fangmire said gleefully.
"Aww, but I'm doing her such a favor giving her a discount!" Francine laughed. "She's a total train wreck. The only thing is I'm running low on supplies. I'm going to need another truck soon. Got anyone who can handle it?"
Francine's question gave Fangmire an idea.
"Could you do me the smallest favor, dear?" the wolf asked. "I just need a few photos and I think I can convince my new, bestest fox friend to do it for us."
Fangmire had not yet learned that a cornered fox is still a fox.
But he would.
Author's note: "What the hey?" you may be asking. Or not. But if you are, the changes I made were to satisfy some critics who felt I was going too dark and that the entire 1st seemed corrupted. I wanted to show that there's no 100% clean cops, but not every cop in the 1st is corrupt. I also wanted to establish the relationship between Fangmire (Fangmeyer) and Chief Bogo. This will be explained in more depth in a future chapter. Yes, there's more to come! Love it or hate it, I'm gonna keep on writing it!