Chapter 2. "How to rob the Rouge"
There surely was some reason for which on Thursdays there were the least crimes committed or turning out. Whatever it was, Thursday usually served as silence before the Friday storm. On Fridays you could count on so many calls Benjamin Clawhauser from dispatch would be stuck to the phone since the very dawn till the end of the shift. This day was no different.
"Nick, Judy, a case for you!" Clawhauser announced, barely had they come inside.
"What is it?" Nick asked, a bit disappointed. It's not exactly the greeting you want to hear. Judy seemed to believe quite opposite, though. Rather unsurprising.
"There's been a break-in into National Bank at the Pack Street at the night. Bankers noticed it just now. They emptied a single safe-deposit box and fled," Clawhauser explained.
"Just one?" Judy asked suspiciously and the cheetah nodded.
"At least that's what the bank director says. Its content was a metal box with GPS tracker; two other officers are already following the signal. Oh, take a Technical Officer with you, they have some problems with security cameras too," The cheetah added.
"Understood." Judy nodded and both partners headed for the police parking lot. "Kaylee Crane?" She suggested.
"Why not? Go after her, I'll be waiting by the car." Nick suggested.
The three of them were at the bank shortly after nine; there was no need for police sirens when preps were long gone. At the entrance to the bank, they were greeted by a slim cheetah in elegant suit.
"Henry Spencer, I'm the director National Bank's branch at the Pack Street."
"Officer Hopps, this is my partner Officer Wilde and Technical Officer Crane." Judy introduced all three of them. "What happened here?"
"Please, follow me." The cheetah opened the door and let all three of them in. The cheetah walked side by side with Judy and Nick, while Kaylee kept in the back, watching carefully around. The bank was quite empty this early in the morning. "A single break-in. We learnt of it at the morning, when one of our employees noticed a broken lock of a single safe-deposit box. Nothing was stolen except for its content and it seems like they exactly knew what they were aiming at, but I'm getting ahead of myself."
"Can you tell how they broke in?" Nick asked. "Any video footage, perhaps?"
"The cameras seem to have been rigged. We cannot access any recordings from after the midnight. We already have a technician from Dogma Security, they're responsible for our safety measures, but he seems helpless. We didn't spot any signs of break-in other than broken lock of the safe-deposit box, though," the cheetah explained, awkwardly helpless.
"Do we know who did the content of this box belong to?" Nick asked.
"Mr. Lester Rouge. That millionaire from…"
"Trinity, the mobile operator." Nick and Kaylee finished simultaneously and watched Judy with surprise, as her face was completely oblivious.
"Gosh, you do live under a rock, Carrots," the fox noticed mockingly.
"Who is that Mr. Rouge?" Judy ignored his comment.
"Owner of Trinity Mobile Operator and probably the best-known philanthropist of Zootopia. Whenever charity receives big money, you can be certain there's Mr. Rouge involved one way or another," Kaylee explained.
"We'll have to pay him a visit. He might know something." Nick noticed, although he didn't seem too eager to do so. Whatever it was, Judy promised herself to ask her partner back in the car.
"The content of that deposit box had a GPS tracker. How come nobody noticed it leaving the bank when it was actually stolen?" The rabbit wondered.
"You'll have to ask the Dogma Security. They are responsible for the tracker too, I believe." The cheetah shrugged his arms helplessly. He really wanted to help, but he couldn't tell them much. "Here we are. Behind this door are the safe-deposit boxes, the one they broke in is number 756. Obviously," he said, as he stood by the thick safe door to deposit room and entered the eight-digit code to open it. He didn't step inside, but only pointed at the robbed deposit box. "No one's been here since our employee discovered the break-in and no one should be interrupting you either. Can I be of any more service?"
"Please take Officer Crane to the Security Office so she can see what she can do with the rigged cameras," Judy suggested.
"Of course. Officer Crane, this way, please," Mr. Spencer led the brown bunny and Nick and Judy were left alone. They wore plastic gloves and got to their jobs. Nick examined the door carefully, while Judy put the case with their equipment on the floor and opened it, she threw Nick gloves and wore a pair as well.
"No signs of break in. They apparently knew the code," Nick noticed.
"Or hacked in, if it's possible," Judy added.
"I don't know. Rigging cameras from outside company is one thing. Breaking into bank's internal system seems quite a different story." The fox disagreed. "We should ask Kaylee, though. I'm no expert." He walked in and watched the floor carefully.
"No fur at all, it seems. They were well prepared." He noticed with disappointment.
"Do you smell anything?" Judy asked hopefully and Nick inhaled deeply several times. If lucky, he could recognize who were here by the scent of musk they left. While judges rarely accepted a canine nose as proof in case, it could lead them on proper track.
"Only a scent-blocker. And some feline, but I bet it's the employee that noticed the break-in." Nick muttered with disappointment. "Any luck with the locker?"
"They drilled the lock." Judy stated the obvious, as estimating it carefully. There were lying metal splinters everywhere; the fox started collecting them carefully. "No marks outside or on the inside… Aha! Fur!" Judy lifted it with pincers triumphantly. It was orange with grey endings and both of them knew who it belonged to.
"A fox. Not red, but grey one, I guess. They have such fur on their necks and backs of heads." Nick noticed. "Most likely Mr. Rouge's then, but let's secure it anyway. Better safe than sorry." He shrugged.
"Mr. Rouge is a fox?" Judy asked with surprise.
"Yeah, one of the few known and acknowledged foxes of Zootopia. Why the surprise?"
"I thought you'd have mentioned of such a mammal in last two years."
"Why, because socially respected foxes are endangered species?" Nick chuckled.
"Yes, and I mean to protect it," Judy assured, smiling at him. It took him a few seconds to remind himself he actually belonged to that species now. "So, do you know him?" The bunny wondered, as securing the proof.
"Sort of. It's a… long story. Seeing anything else here, Carrots?" Nick wondered, but she shook her head. They spent in the safe fifteen minutes more before they made sure there were no evidence left; whoever broke in here, they exactly knew what they were doing. With little proof they secured they left the deposit room, closing it behind just in case and returned to the main hall of the bank. A bank employee guided them to the Security Office where they found Kaylee and Dogma Security Technician; he was a young moose.
"I'm Officer Wilde and this is Officer Hopps. What do we have here?" He asked.
"Aaron Hornson from Dogma Security. Someone uploaded from inside a virus that rigged the cameras and messed up with system in general. They haven't been recording a thing since midnight and, not to make security suspicious, would view and save yesterday's recordings as today's. Pretty simple, but did its job," the moose explained.
"But it had to be done from the inside, so we have a closed list of suspects," Kaylee told them. "And also, for some reason one camera in the bank wasn't affected. It looks like someone from Dogma Security messed up installing it and it's theoretically not in security system, so the virus didn't hit it." Kaylee gave Dogma's technician a meaningful sight, but he decided not to comment on that.
"It did record, though?" Nick asked.
"Yes and I am searching for its default saving directory. While it is aimed very poorly, it records also voice, which could appear more useful. Might take a while, though." The brown bunny explained. "Any luck down there?"
"Not really." Nick shook his head. "OK, keep working; we'll go to Mr. Spencer. We should get a list of employees and ask him a few questions more."
"Sure thing. I'll tell you if we find anything." Kaylee promised, getting back to work.
Once again, Mr. Henry Spencer was trying his best to help the police; it was about his reputation too, after all. When Judy and Nick visited him in his office, he had already printed list of employees together with their functions and possible access to computer system and other important details. He also had building plans prepared with signed places of possible entrance or break-in. He hadn't noticed anything or anyone suspicious in last few weeks, neither from his employees nor from clients.
After that last conversation, Nick and Judy took a walk around the building, watching all possible points of break in. With no windows broken and no alarms triggered, either someone rigged alarms as well or burglars had help from the inside. What brought their attention were two jam cams outside the bank, one aimed at the front entrance and the other probably having the back entrance in its range.
"We'll have to ask City Hall for the recordings," Judy suggested. "I think that's all in here. Now, we should get Kaylee back to the police station, visit Dogma Security to ask about the ignored GPS activity and few more things and pay a visit to Mr. Lester Rouge," Judy enumerated.
"Let's take care of the millionaire first. By the way, do we know anything about that location of last GPS signal?" Nick wondered, but she shook her head. "You call them, I'll go pick up Crane." He suggested. Judy got into the car and picked up the radio.
"Officer Hopps reporting, who is checking the location of last GPS signal from this morning's break-in? Did they report?" She asked.
"Officers Barnes and Reynolds, they spotted prep and called for support. There's been a car chase, but we lost them somewhere near Hailstone Street. Officers Barnes and Reynolds are securing evidence at the location of last signal now," Clawhauser informed them. "Any luck in the bank?"
"It looks like really professional job, but we've got several leads. Hopps out." She ended the call and a few moments later Nick got back into the car.
"Kaylee needs to stay here an hour or two. We'll pick her up on our way back from Mr. Rouge," he suggested. "I'll call his secretary, so we don't need to chase him around the town."
"Where does he live?"
"In a mansion on northern brink of Zootopia. Aim for Haymarket in Meadowlands, I'll guide you once we're there," he suggested, reaching for the phone.
"You have a number for his secretary?" Judy raised her eyebrows curiously.
"Hey, I know everybody," Nick smirked. "Just kidding, I asked Mr. Spencer for the number." He explained and then, spoke to the phone. "Hello, Officer Nicholas Wilde, ZPD. We need to talk with your boss about today's break-in into his safe-deposit box in the National Bank. Yes, we should be at place in no more than half an hour. Yes, thank you. Goodbye." He finished the call. "He'll be waiting."
"You said before that you know him, didn't you?" Judy asked curiously.
"Sort of. We're not exactly friends, if that's what you mean."
"So you hustled him?" She guessed.
"How dare you?! I'd never hustle a fellow fox!" He riposted, faking outrage. "OK, I tried to hustle him and he gave me quite a lesson." Nick looked around; they were stuck in a traffic jam. "We have plenty of time, don't we? And I guess you should know the story before we get there." He sounded casual, but she knew he wouldn't offer it to just anyone.
"Only if you want to share it." She assured. Nick took a breath. Boy, it was quite a story. One of those he'd probably never share with anyone but Judy.
"So…
I was twenty at the time. Finished the high school two years earlier and having no real perspectives; neither for collage, nor a stable well-paid job; all I had was hustling, mostly high risk, high reward kind of deals. I was young and stupid back then and I really mean it.
It was quite loud about Lester Rouge at the time; he was pumping a lot of money in everything charity-related. He helped out a lot of mammals, especially foxes. He was kind of a local hero in my neighborhood, he even grew up on the same street me and my father did. Anyway, Lester Rouge had lots of money and I figured I'd get him to share with me some of it, one way or another. I knew a fox that looked just like me and Mr. Rouge had helped him out decade earlier. That guy was a CEO of some big company now, quite a persona and he was out of town. So, I dressed up in father's suite and I slipped inside some official party Mr. Rouge attended with my fake name. After an hour or two spent there I approached him and we started talking. I reminded him how he backed "me" a decade earlier and he even seemed to remember "me" a bit. We started asking about the company, about "my" family, even about a vixen "I" had just married, as the rumor said. I knew everything. I had spent two weeks learning about that guy, so even if Mr. Rouge was trying to test me, I passed it with flying colors. And then, before I was even able to conduct my plan, he invited me for a game of Texas Hold'em Poker next week; they had no eighth player. The entrance fee was twenty five grand. Multiplied by eight gives two hundred thousand of prize and I was my street's undisputed poker champion, even if we never played big money. I figured I couldn't possibly lose, so I agreed. I obviously had no cash, so I went to Skooba. Yeah, the same Skooba we finally arrested three months ago for the multiple kidnappings and ransom demands. I borrowed twenty seven thousand and promised to return thirty five within two months. Why twenty seven? I needed to keep up the act and bought an expensive-looking watch and rented limo with driver for a night.
And so, there I was, at Lester Rouge's villa. It's a beautiful place, you'll see for yourself. He greeted me like an old friend and we sat to the poker table. He actually had his own poker table with professional croupier!
I must admit, when I paid the entrance fee, I actually started doubting. I'd never make such money in two months if I were to lose it. And if I didn't, I'd be just another fox that suddenly vanished from the streets of Zootopia. Luckily, the other guests weren't good at all. Four of them got drunk quickly and fell out of the game within first hour; the other one had no poker face and dropped out soon afterwards. There remained only three mammals in game; me, Mr. Lester Rouge and some hyena with quite a skill. Luckily, hyena had no luck in cards at all and I eliminated him quickly stealing all his money. So, it was me, holding one hundred and sixty grand and Mr. Rouge with barely forty.
He wasn't just an average player that slipped through somehow, though. He was a freaking king of poker. He read me like an open book. I soon found myself losing hard, as if he had been holding back earlier. After half an hour we were somewhere around the draw. It was then that I finally noticed his nervous tic; whenever he bluffed the narrow of his lip would twitch minimally. It was quick and barely noticeable, but I could see it. And then, there came that deal. Croupier pulled out an ace, a queen and a two. I was holding two twos.
"Tell me Victor (that was my fake name), have you been to the Lake City lately? Raise." Mr. Rouge added cash to the pool while he asked and then I saw it. His lip twitched. He was bluffing.
"Yeah, once. It's a wonderful place, although mammals are … different. Raise." I was totally going to win that. He couldn't beat a three of a kind with a bluff.
"True, they are different. That's where you met your wife, isn't it? Raise." He added to the pool again.
"Yes, Angie, a true gem. It was great luck we met. Funny story. She was a cashier in market and I accidentally spilled a juice on her. Raise." I threw more chips to the game. "But you know that story, don't you, Mr. Rouge?"
"Yes, yes. I've been wondering, how was your honeymoon? It was just recently, wasn't it? Let's raise again," Mr. Rouge decided after along hesitation.
"Mhm, we just came back. Raise." I knew I had him. I saw through his bluff and he had to fold before he'd actually lose even more money. But then, he dropped the bomb.
"Yeah, three days ago, if I am not mistaken?" Mr. Rouge asked smiling slyly. The thing was, he wasn't wrong. My alter ego returned three days before the game and I talked to Mr. Rouge for the first time a week earlier, when my alter ego was still celebrating his honeymoon. I assumed Mr. Rouge couldn't be aware of it. But since he knew "I" couldn't be in Zootopia at that point of time, he also knew I was just an imposter who tried to sneak in his house. And he probably knew I had to borrow a lot of money from the likes of Skooba; the likes that don't forgive if you don't return it.
"All in, boy," he decided, as pushing all the chips to the center of table. For next fifteen seconds, I was completely dumbfounded. Was it Mr. Rouge's strategy to dumbstruck me so badly I'd fold to his bluff? Or maybe he didn't bluff at all and just decided to crush me at both table and conversation simultaneously? I knew one thing, though. I would never win against him playing from behind. And I would be playing from behind if I folded now.
"All in," I decided, pulling all the chips away into quite a pile. I showed my cards. My two twos, my hope and possibly salvation. Mr. Rouge smiled with pity.
"World belongs to the bold ones, hmm?" He showed his cards; two queens. "I think you pushed it a bit too hard this time, though." It felt like someone kicked me in guts. I had three twos, he had three queens. What I needed to win was to have two and him not have a queen. Nothing else could save me.
"Turn," the croupier announced, putting the fourth card on table. It was an eight, changing nothing. I was already imagining that the very next morning, I'd go to Skooba and explain him everything. He'd kill me right on the place, but at least not in my mother's house. Maybe mess me up before actually finishing, but it didn't matter. I played and I lost.
"Are you alright, boy?" Mr. Rouge asked with actual concern, or maybe he was just mocking me at the point, I couldn't really tell.
"Boy just let two hundred grand slip, Lester. It surely hurts," the hyena noticed.
"There's still a card left," I argued, trying to not sound desperate.
"River," said the croupier and picked the fifth card. For a second, everyone fell silent and then, there exploded hysterical smile. Mine, I realized after a few seconds. The card was a two. It was a two! I had four of a kind and Mr. Rouge only had three queens! I completely lost it. Not only Skooba wouldn't kill me, I actually won the game and got away with the money. Mr. Rouge was staring at the card for a long moment and then, I think he actually smiled.
"He let you take it?" Judy asked with disbelief. "Even though he knew you were an imposter?"
"Yes. He never revealed it in front of others; only signaled it to me during the game and didn't mention it ever again. Back then I thought it was because he was so surprised that he lost. Now I'm certain that the last deal was rigged. He faked that nervous tic to get me into raising until we'd both go all in. He realized I was a poor fox just like him thirty years earlier and he knew this game was my struggle for survival. He told the croupier to cheat the deal so I'd win by skin of my teeth."
"Why would he?" Judy wondered.
"Because before businessman, he is a philanthropist. And that night, Mr. Lester Rouge not only gave me two hundred grand which covered mother's old debts, financed her house's overhaul and bought me a car and the apartment I have now. He taught me a lesson. The world belongs to the bold, yes. But you should know better than pushing your luck like I did back then. After I nearly lost my life in a game of poker, I learnt to estimate risk. I was bold in my hustles, you always need to be, but never risked what I couldn't afford to lose. Well… Almost never, but that's another story." He explained. "And that's me, the dumb fox."
"What did your mother say?" Judy wondered.
"And what would your mother do, if you brought home two hundred thousand dollars in cash one day?"
"She'd… scream?" Judy hesitated. She could hardly imagine getting such a fortune herself in just one night, especially in Bunny Burrows.
"And once you'd explained her how you actually got it?" He continued.
"She'd probably kill me," she guessed.
"And there's your answer."
"Was it that bad?" Judy asked. She always thought of Mrs. Wilde as very composed and calm mammal. On the other hand, Nick did take a lot after her, so she probably was just as good at hiding her true emotions as he was.
"After father died, I was all my mother had left. She did everything she could to give me a proper living and I come back home with a story like this. Do I need to say anything more?"
"No, I get it," Judy agreed. "It's good to meet people like Rouge once in a time, hmm?"
"Or you." Nick nodded slightly. Judy turned her head only to stare deeply into his emerald eyes and smile weakly. What was in that fox that so clicked with her? Nick returned the smile, but then, a car horn noise from behind violently reminded Judy the light was already green. The fox chuckled.
"Sorry, that was sappy," he apologized with amusement.
"It's fine to be sappy once in a while. Even for a fox," Judy assured. She really appreciated those moments when he'd drop all of his protective shell.
"But not too often. I have a reputation to uphold." He put on his aviators, even though it wasn't very bright in Meadowlands. "Looks like we're here. Turn in the Chestnut Street and head outside the town. The mansion is a few minutes from here," he guided her and bunny followed his advices for next few minutes. Soon, they saw a two-level classical style mansion with beautiful garden. It was kept very simple and absolutely not pretentious, but had its charm. The police car drove through the opened metal gate and parked at the gravelly driveway nearby the house. Barely had they left the car, the house's door opened and there appeared an old fox. He was very slim and classy. With his smug smile, elegant suite and a cane he reminded Judy more of one of those mob bosses from Nick's old movies than a CEO of great company and a millionaire. The old grey fox approached them smiling warmly. He bowed before them politely.
"Miss Judith Hopps, Mr. Nicholas Wilde. It is great pleasure to have you as my guests. Please, follow me," the old fox led two policemen inside. His mansion was kept simple. Luxurious, but not pompous, rich, but not dripping with gold. It was really well-toned in Judy's opinion. Mr. Rouge guided them toward stairs, at the base of which they met an old vixen in apron.
"Martha, would you please make some tea for our guests? Black, green or Pu'er, Officers?" The millionaire offered his guests.
"Black," Nick decided.
"Green," Judy chose quickly too.
"And a Pu'er for me. We'll be in my office. Thank you, Martha." Mr. Rouge smiled to her warmly and Judy could easily say it wasn't a fake smile. "Martha, my housekeeper. A true blessing. Here's my office." Once again, the millionaire opened the door before them and led them inside. The interior of the office held up the simple and strict style of the house. Several bookstands willed with classics of literature, a painting of some landscape hanging on the wall and two huge windows illuminated whole room. Mr. Rouge sat by his solid oak desk and offered both policemen comfortable seats.
"Please, take your seats. I know you're here for business, Officers, but before we start, let me tell you that I am very happy to see you in the uniform, Officer Wilde. Your father would be very proud of you and the path you chose, I'm certain of that."
"You knew my father?" Nick asked curiously.
"Oh, who grew up in Happytown and didn't know John Wilde! The fox with a dream that many tried to crush and none succeeded." Lester Rouge smiled kind-heartedly.
"Well, a drunk driver did," Nick corrected him bitterly.
"Yes. A reminder how fragile we all are. I am sorry for your loss, son." Smile disappeared from old fox's face. "So, how can I help you, officers?"
"Mr. Rouge, like you probably know, there has been burglary in National Bank this night. The only deposit box that was emptied belonged to you, so we assume thieves exactly knew what they were aiming for. What was content of the box?" Judy asked.
"It was a safe containing the painting "Number 3" by Jackson Haddock. The painting has estimate twenty two inches of width and thirty inches of height. It looks like… this." The millionaire presented them with a printing; the picture was nothing more but stains of random color paints without any particular rule or order; Nick thought that he used to paint things like this when he was a three-year-old. Who knows, maybe if he dug out his old works from somewhere, he could sell them for some notable money?
"Beauty, isn't she?" The old fox asked and Judy and Nick shared an uncertain look.
"It certainly is an acquired taste," Nick said carefully not to offend the millionaire, but he laughed aloud, dropping the print.
"I know it's disgusting. I'd never hang it on the wall. That's why I keep it in the safe." At that moment they heard knocking and the old vixen brought three teas. He gave everyone their own and put a small plate of biscuits between them. "Thank you, Martha." Mr. Rouge said, as she was leaving.
"Well, then… why to buy it in the first place?" Judy wondered smelling her tea. It had refreshing aroma. "The tea is amazing, by the way."
"Thank you. I bought it for profits. I paid for it twenty millions. Recently, I had an offer of selling it for thirty eight." Mr. Rouge explained and bunny choked on her hot drink. Nick probably would too, were he not busy pouring a spoonful of sugar in.
"I beg your pardon?" Judy asked.
"The estimated value of the picture is thirty eight million dollars," Nick said to make sure they heard right. The millionaire nodded.
"Sweet cheese and…" Judy whispered slowly. "Thirty-eight million for this piece of…"
"Yes, although it may go down a bit, if I try to sell it once you retrieve it. To be honest, if I were to evaluate the picture, I'd give no more than a hundred bucks, but millionaires rarely have sense of reality. They can make good business, otherwise they wouldn't be rich, but beyond that, they're just… forgive me my words, spoiled brats. Several "authorities" from world of art tell them Haddock is a master of brush and they'll be killing each other just to get it, pumping up its price and not even bothering to think if they actually need it. And when they get it, they hang it on the wall and don't even notice it anymore. They have it; that's all they need to satisfy their ego. The saddest part is that if millionaires spent at least half the money they waste every day for the mammals that actually need it, Zootopia would be a huge leap closer to an actual utopia. I was at the dinner with Thomas Reynolds from Reynolds Industries last month. We drifted off business, and started talking about wasting money. I said I'm trying to keep my own expenses at some reasonable level, while Reynolds was trying to persuade me that it feels good to waste it once in the while. To prove his point, he ordered a champagne for two hundred grand and spilled it on the ground in front of me Two hundred thousand! I could settle for life at least one family with this kind of money, am I right, Detective Wilde?" Thomas Reynolds winked and both Judy and Nick smiled slightly knowing what he meant. The old fox realized the bunny knew the story too and it seemed to please him. "Returning to the subject though, yes, the picture is worth at least thirty eight million, at least to some mammals."
"I understand," Judy noted the number in the notepad and underlined it thrice to make sure she got it right. "What is this safe picture's locked in?" She asked.
"The safe was designed to protect the painting from robberies like this. It demands eight-digit code to open, but in case of failing to write one properly in first ten tries, will demand the thirty-two-digit one. The terminal can't be accessed or hacked from the outside. Any trial of breaking in with tools will be detected and will trigger the destruction of safe's interior; the warning is engraved on both sides of the safe, so no thief should try a thing. It also has a GPS system that should be providing detailed information about safe's whereabouts, but since you are here and not there, I assume there has been a malfunction."
"In the middle of night GPS ceased to transmit its current location. We are currently investigating the last known location of the picture," Judy explained.
"I understand," Mr. Rouge nodded slightly. "Dogma Security was supposed to monitor the location of the safe, so I suppose you should ask them why they didn't notify the police immediately, then. The company responsible for manufacturing the safe itself is Leeroy Workshop, they should know how the GPS was blocked and if there are any gateways around safe's security." The old fox explained.
"Who knew about the safe and its content?" Nick asked.
"Both my sons and wife. Also the bank director, Mr. Spencer, and probably several other bank employees in result. And partially the workers of Leeroy Workshop, but they take privacy thing very seriously. I can't think of anyone else." Mr. Rouge enumerated.
"Any enemies that could steal picture out of hate rather than for the money itself? Or for both?" Judy wondered.
"I could give you the list, but it will have at least sixty names of it. Mammals usually either hate me or love me, no in-betweens," Mr. Rouge smirked. "I should send it to you by tomorrow, if that's fine."
"It would be just perfect," the rabbit assured.
"Did this picture have a burglary insurance?" Nick asked.
"Yes, but I'd only receive twenty million dollars from it. Should I provide you with a copy of the insurance?" The millionaire asked.
"If you could. Also, who was the last buyer for the picture?" Judy wondered.
"Thomas Reynolds, that's one of reasons why we met at that dinner. While we had an argument and he will no longer be willing to buy the picture, our companies shall still conduct business together." Mr. Rouge explained. Nick and Judy shared uncertain look. It was Max Reynolds father and could cause some complications.
"Could you describe to us how the dinner went precisely?" Wilde pleased.
"If that's necessary." The old fox didn't seem too eager to share the story. "We met at the evening of seventh of May, sometime around eight p.m. at Diarmuid's. I usually avoid such pompous places, but it was Mr. Reynolds' invitation and I wouldn't want to offend him. We talked business first, discussed details of the deal we are meant to sign on Monday. Later we switched to more light-hearted subjects and we settled at art; while I was trying to cure Mr. Reynolds' lack of taste, I mentioned I had Haddock's Number 3 in my possession and he was willing to sell it for a proper price. It shocked me, I always thought of Mr. Reynolds as a reasonable wolf. He offered me thirty-eight million dollars, but I refused trying to tell him how many mammals he could help with all that money. I know I could simply give all that money to charity, but that's not the point. The point is to make as many millionaires see my point of view as possible. Mr. Reynolds laughed at me, though. He claimed wasting a bit of money once in a while is nothing wrong. He ordered then that twenty-thousand-dollars priced champagne and spilled it in front of me. At that point he was quite buzzed; I haven't drunk a drip, I don't like conducting business under influence. Still, I lost it and hit Mr. Reynolds in the face, slashing his cheek quite badly. He jumped to me over the table knocking it over and we started fighting at the floor. We were separated after a while by two waiters. We were politely told to get our limos and leave the restaurant. Mr. Reynolds got to his car and let driver take him, while I walked to my car, took wet suite off and drove home myself. I love driving and would hate to have anyone steal this pleasure from me. While we are going to remain businesses partners, Mr. Reynolds never again asked about the painting or generally anything not business-related," Mr. Rouge explained, not very proud of his actions. Judy and Nick exchanged looks. It sounded like quite a motive.
"He never mentioned it ever since that dinner?" Nick wanted to make sure.
"Never again to me and I believe he didn't mention it anyone else either. He'd hardly want to brag about being messed up by a fox," Mr. Rouge smiled slightly.
"I think that will be all the questions we have as for now. Could we talk with your family, sir?" Judy pleased.
"They will come back to Zootopia on Sunday. Would you mind if they came to the station on Monday? I wouldn't want to bother you with coming so far away again." Mr. Rouge said apologetically.
"Not at all." Judy assured. The policemen, having asked all the questions they could, they conversed with Mr. Rouge for a few moments more, finished their teas and bid him goodbye, promising to notify him when they locate the painting. Partners were already getting into the car when something struck Judy and she shot out of the car and back to the mansion.
"Mr. Rouge?" She called him. "If I may ask, you said most millionaires rarely care about anyone but themselves. But what is your motivation to help the ones that need it?" She wanted to know. Mr. Rouge watched a fox sitting in his police car for a few seconds. He seemed not to pay attention.
"Back when I was ten, my family was nearly bankrupt. Banks threatened to take our house. But then, families of Wilde, Tails and many, many others helped us out with money and not only. If they didn't help us then, I'd never get here. So whenever I help someone out..." Mr. Rouge watched Nick again and their sights met for a couple of seconds. "I merely think of it as paying back a very old debt. And if at least tenth of mammals I help will do the same for others, the world will be a little better place." He explained.
"Thank you, sir," Judy said only and rushed to the car. Nick, although he must have been dying to know what Mr. Rouge told her, didn't say a word until she started the engine and started moving down the driveway.
"You know, we could settle ourselves for life if we played it properly," Wilde started, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
"I don't understand?" She watched him suspiciously. She knew that sly grin.
"Well, I know a guy that knows a guy that could possibly… buy the picture? For like thirty millions? I'd take twenty, my sidekick would take ten and…" He laughed aloud seeing her stern look. She poked his side with elbow really hard.
"Dumb fox." A slight smile danced across her lips.
Having left Mr. Rouge's mansion, Nick and Judy picked up Kaylee and left her at the police station. The brown bunny had some good news; they managed to locate files from their ghost camera and by the evening she should have it decoded. That day they paid a visit to Dogma Security where they learnt that in last few weeks GPS systems in several other safes triggered alarms without a reason and since that night's Mr. Rouge's painting's movement fit the pattern, they decided not to raise an alarm. A bad luck, it would be, but they decided to ask person responsible for making that call anyway. They didn't learn anything particular, though. The last place they visited that day was manufacturer of the safe; Leeroy Workshop. They learnt there that while tracker had a loophole allowing it to be disabled, the safe itself couldn't be opened without damaging its content. That would buy them some time.
They left the workshop around half past five and decided to call it a day. The salvaged camera footage and analysis of list of all sixty employees of National Bank was to be ready by tomorrow and that was when they'd most likely get back on the case. Even though they didn't usually work on weekends, for a big hot case like that they totally should sacrifice a weekend or two.
"Jackson Haddock. There was something strange to that name," Nick wondered.
"Do you know him?" Judy asked.
"Hey, I know everybody. But I'm certain Haddock's long dead," he reached for his phone and started browsing internet. "Ha, got it!"
"Well, then?" Judy asked expectantly.
"Jackson Haddock was a pseudo of a modern artist. He started with hyperrealism twenty years ago, which slowly evolved into abstract expressionism in form of his 'Numbers'; these are the ones that really made him famous. They'd always be revealed in Savanna Square Art Gallery and would be later sold on the auction with all the profits transferred to said gallery. The last painting, 'Number 12', was released ten years ago. At that time, the gallery curator, Mr. Theodore Wellington, publicly announced death of the artist. He refrained from revealing their true identity, though, even if he's rumored to know it," Nick read.
"Anything more that would interest us?" Judy wondered.
"There was a minor incident involving Haddock's picture 'Moonlight' eight years ago. Some young artist, otter Trevor "Red" Maverick, broke into said Gallery and defaced a couple of pictures adding his signatures on them; he wanted to see if changing the name would influence picture's value, he claimed. He did it to paintings of all sorts of artists, really, although 'Moonlight' was a bit different. Instead of writing his initials over original one with red paint, he painted one white letter of initials in each corner. But it looks like he was just some wierdo. And there's nothing particular except for that," Nick stated with disappointment.
"Shame. It'd be good to know who Haddock really was, even if it not might matter at all," Judy noticed.
"True. Wait, I've got something; most of Haddock's pictures belong currently to no one else than Thomas Reynolds. All except for Number 3 and Number 8, the latter being in National Museum of Zootopia. Reynolds started buying them all out of sudden seven years ago," he read with satisfaction. Now that sounded more promising.
"Do you think it's something more than simple fascination?" Judy wondered.
"Could be," the fox shrugged.
"Anyone among Reynolds' family or friends with artistic skills?" The rabbit went with a lucky shot.
"Let me check…" Nick browsed Internet for a longer moment. "He knows plenty of artists, it'd seem. Even his wife finished Academy of Fine Arts."
"Did she?" Judy's ears perked up, curiously. That seemed suspicious.
"Yeah, but she can hardly be the one."
"Why?"
"Because she died fifteen years ago, just before publishing the first Number and five years before the last one. Some nasty genetic illness, it says without specifying, though," Nick explained. "We should talk to both Thomas Reynolds and that gallery curator, Theodore Wellington," he suggested.
"Good idea," Judy agreed, acknowledging that they'd hardly learn much more by just browsing Internet on phone.
"So, any plans for the evening?" Nick wondered after a moment of silence.
"Bucky, one of those lousy neighbors, is having a birthday party. Want to come too? They'd surely love to have you again," Judy told him, quite ashamed that she forgot to mention it to him earlier.
"I gladly would, but Finnick invited me for a poker night at his buddy's place. Can't miss that. Apologize them for me. I really loved the previous one," he explained. Although they hardly ever met nowadays, Finnick would invite Nick for a game of cards once in a while and he gladly accepted it every single time.
"Have a nice game then. So, we start tomorrow at… eleven?" She suggested. She would be awake no later than at seven, but she knew that Nick, nocturnal like all foxes, liked to take his mornings slowly, especially on weekends. You can lie to your family, you can lie to your partner, but you cannot lie to your nature. Not without a liter of coffee, that is.
"Eleven. Just perfect." Nick agreed. He slowed down as they were reaching Judy's house. "See you tomorrow, Carrots."