Chapter 6: Dr. Wiskberg
Judy and Fangmeyer were the second group to arrive at Flake's that day for 'lunch'. When they arrived, Pops simply nodded his head towards the back corridor and Judy and Fangmeyer made their way to the back room. When they walked in, Clawhauser and Francine were both discussing something over a box of bear claws.
"Hey!" Clawhauser greeted them. "Any good news?"
"We have a new lead, but I'd rather wait till Wolford gets here. Any word from him?" Judy asked.
"He said he was on his way not too long ago. The feds must be done with him and Grizzoli if they're letting them just wander off for lunch," Francine commented.
"That's good," Fangmeyer said. "If they're done, that means they've found something.
"In the meantime, Clawhauser, why don't you tell me what the chief has been up to?" Judy asked.
"Well, at first nothing. Perhaps he was expecting you to need a moment before breathing down your neck, all things considered. But this morning he came by asking for a report on all your activities from yesterday," he recalled.
"What did you tell him?" Judy asked.
"Funny thing was, I didn't have to lie at all! Yesterday morning you were out on patrols and bumped into an old friend before coming to get lunch with me here. Then, you went back to the station before partnering up with Sir-Howls-A-Lot for afternoon patrol. He knows the rest from the Spitz report. On paper, you have been the vigilant busybody you've always been!" he said happily.
"Huh, we're lucky that our leads haven't taken us away from patrol duty," Fangmeyer noticed.
"Chief is not an idiot," Judy said. "He'll assume I'm investigating Nick's whereabouts one way or another. If he's turning a blind eye or waiting for me to slip up, I'm not sure. But when I have real evidence to go on, more than just whispers, I'll be required to report that. If the chief finds me withholding evidence, especially from a case like this, I'll be badgeless."
"This case is as time-sensitive as it gets," Fangmeyer said. "If you get evidence and act on it immediately, you could tell the chief that there was no time to call it in. If he's on your side with this, he'll take that with no questions asked."
"So it all depends on if he's on my side, or the ZBI's," Judy clarified. She took a seat on a crate of napkins and plastic cutlery, rubbing her brow thoughtfully.
"Have a little faith," Clawhauser said. "Chief might be forced to play by the rules with the ZBI, but he's always stood by his officers in the past."
Fangmeyer nodded in agreement, along with Francine. They were right, after all. Judy's first case was certainly a bad example of the chief's devotion to his officers. But ever since that case, he treated her with the respect and dignity he offered everyone else at the precinct. Given the opportunity, he would stick his own neck out for any of his officers, and Judy believed that included her as well.
"Mmmm, smells like conspiracy and bear claws!" Wolford said, peeking his snout through the door.
"Wolford, come inside before you start running your mouth," Fangmeyer scolded. Wolford shrugged her off and eagerly made his way to Clawhauser, who handed him a frosting-drizzled pastry. The room quickly grew quiet as all eyes fell on Judy, waiting for her to start the impromptu strategy meeting.
"Where the ZBI are in their investigation might change the plan, so Wolford, you're up first. What did they have you do this morning?" she inquired.
"Hmph," he grunted as he swallowed a chunk of the treat and licked his fingers of icing. "Well, can't say where they got the lead from, but they found the van in your photo."
"They did?" Judy asked.
"Yeah. It was abandoned outside a warehouse at the docks. They spent last night with bomb-bots making sure there were no devices attached. They had me and Grizzoli sniff the thing top to bottom," Wolford said, gesturing to his nose.
"And what did you find?" Fangmeyer followed up.
"Well, the good news is that I have Pumar's scent now," Wolford explained. "He's a foreigner and still smells of Griño, so he'll be easier to track. The other guy in the photo was hardly there at all, the ocelot."
"And Nick?" Judy asked.
"That's the bad news. He was definitely there, and he picked a spot to ditch the van out of sight from the traffic cameras near the water where their scent was impossible to track afterwards. License plate check was blank, so he might have tampered with DMV registration records. Pretty sure Agent Maple is looking into that now," he said with a frown.
Judy frowned as well. It was troubling that Nick would go so far as to tamper with government records like that, even if he used his connections at the DMV to do it. What was worse was that if he left any clues for her to find at the van, they would be picked up by the ZBI first. Then again, these were all things he did with Pumar present, so perhaps he felt like he needed to prove his value to a dangerous criminal. Trust, he would say, is what makes a con possible.
"What about Savage?" Judy asked.
"No idea. He took Agent Stockbreed or whatever somewhere else, didn't mention where," Wolford shrugged.
"Brocktree," Clawhauser corrected. "Wherever he went, he left the chief pretty cross with him. I tried to probe the chief for more, but he was in no mood."
"That's ok. If his lead was more solid, he would have taken his whole entourage with him. Fangmeyer and I caught up with a new informant named Willie who sold our mystery boss some chemicals. He's an ocelot by the name of Terrence, unsure about the last name. Francine, could you dig up anything on him?" Judy asked, turning to the elephant in the room. Officer Pennington nodded hesitantly and pulled a small folder from her pocket. It looked like she printed it out specifically for Judy to read.
"I did, but you're not going to like it," she started. She held the folder in her trunk and extended it to Judy, who took it carefully and scanned through the first page. Her eyes shot open immediately as her eyes glanced over the case file name.
"The Nighthowler case?" she asked, astonished.
"No way," Wolford gasped.
"Not just the case, Max. I couldn't find anything on this guy at first, not even parking tickets. I thought he didn't exist or that we had the wrong mammal, but there's only one ocelot named Terrence in the census. But then I found that we had him logged as a key witness during the Nighthowler case," Francine explained.
"Key witness?" Clawhauser asked.
She looked up at Fangmeyer with a solemn look on her face. There were elements of her first case that came back to haunt her, from time to time. At first, it was the notoriety. Her press conference and subsequent bust of the mayor garnered plenty of attention, not all of which was pleasant. But that subsided eventually. There were other occasions when a predator would treat her poorly, citing her prejudice as the root of species tensions in the city. This, however, would be the first time that case put more lives in danger.
"You're right Francine, this is bad," Judy said coldly. "He was one of the mammals that went savage."
"Shit," Wolford cursed. Clawhauser put a paw over his mouth and stopped chewing for a moment.
"It gets worse," Francine said. "Before he went savage, he was a professor at ZU with a Ph.D. in biochemistry. He attacked one of the students and mauled a pig's leg pretty badly. He lost his job as a result."
"The college probably didn't want to be seen as harboring violent teachers. Can you imagine passing out one day, then weeks later, you wake up and you're fired?" Fangmeyer said with a scoff.
"If he tried to get hired elsewhere afterwards, it didn't work. He didn't file taxes last year. His driver's license expired and he never renewed. His last known address is now vacant. The only current information I could find on him was his full name and his ex-wife's address," Francine explained.
"Ex-wife?" Wolford cringed. Francine slowly nodded with a dark expression on her face.
"Read that on a pred-rights website. They separated less than a year after the Nighthowler case. She won full custody of their son easily, arguing that a violent male could not be trusted around a child."
Judy saw Wolford grip the cardboard box he was sitting on so tightly that his claws punctured the side. He grunted and his lip quivered in a vile anger that Judy witnessed only once before, when a mammal threatened his mother.
"That disloyal . . ." he started.
"Max," Fangmeyer soothed her coworker with a paw to his shoulder. He took a deep breath and relaxed his paws from their vice grip, continuing to scowl at the folder in Judy's paws.
It was much more common that mothers won in custody battles, but it happened more so in predator families. It was easier to convince a jury that a male was a danger to the child when he had fangs and claws, even if the mother had them too. It was one of the few pred-rights subjects that received little activist attention. After all, who would dare rip children away from their mothers?
"An address is enough for now. Fangmeyer and I will head over there to see what we can find out about Dr. Terrence Wiskberg from his ex-wife," Judy read aloud from her file. "Great work, Francine. See if you can find any more information about his whereabouts, or something to tie him to Pumar from the past few months. Wolford, head back to the station and see if the ZBI needs you again. If they do, keep an eye out for anything Nick might have left us. Clawhauser? I need to know as soon as Agent Savage is back at the precinct. Any questions?"
There weren't any questions. Clawhauser smiled and gave a short salute, nodding towards Judy as she went around the room making eye contact with everyone present. Once she was confident that everyone was set to go, she bid them good luck and headed out with Fangmeyer once again.
The cruiser roamed past the brilliant skyscrapers in downtown towards the more ritzy parts of town. The closer to the action the neighborhood was, the higher the rent prices tended to get. There were, of course, more affordable options not too far from city center. Judy and Nick lived in a good example of just that. What her apartment lacked in space or luxuries it made up for in location, so the rent was still pretty high.
This neighborhood, colloquially known as Savannah Heights, had both location and flair. The houses were townhomes that were at least four stories high with large windows and clean sidewalks. The cars were nicer, and the shops and restaurants were more expensive. The neighborhood was not as wealthy as the heart of downtown, which was reserved for the CEOs and famous newscasters, but it was certainly out of Judy's price range.
"Up here," Judy said, pointing to a vacant parking spot. Fangmeyer pulled in and looked at the stoop of the address in question.
"Nice place," Fangmeyer noted as she stepped out of the cruiser. A pack of gazelles wearing nice clothes and jewlery passed by as Judy placed a few coins in the meter.
"Must be nice not having to be at work during the day," Judy murmured under her breath.
"I'm sure they're gearing up for the night shift later," Fangmeyer jested, which made Judy smile a little. The house was a nice example of the neighborhood with faded brick and a stone-lined stoop. Judy easily hopped up each step and gave the doorbell a ring. At first, no one came to the door. She looked at Fangmeyer, who shrugged before giving the bell another ring.
"Coming!" Judy heard someone sing from inside. A few moments later, a smartly dressed ocelot with gorgeously maintained fur and a golden bracelet answered the door. The first thing Judy noticed was her age, which was likely around her own. Her wide, rehearsed smile vanished as she noticed Fangmeyer.
"Ugh," she groaned. "Has that boy done something? I swear if he's in deep, I'm not posting any bail money."
"No ma'am, we're not here about your son. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your ex-husband, Dr. Wiskberg," Judy said. The female ocelot's eyes drifted down in surprise at Judy's voice and a toothy smile returned to her face as she regarded her.
"Well aren't you just the cutest thing in the world!" she exclaimed with a paw to her cheek.
Judy swallowed a groan at her high-pitched nasally tone and kept herself in check. Being a bunny in the burrows meant getting called cute was few and far between. But no matter how often she insisted, strangers would still call her cute in the most patronizing way from time to time. Often they just didn't realize what they were saying, so Judy adopted a two-strike policy, only voicing her discomfort if they persisted. This particular mammal, however, was likely going to persist regardless of what Judy said. Sometimes, to get the job done, she had to bite the bullet.
"Please, if it's not too much trouble, can we come in?" Judy asked patiently.
"Why, of course! Come on in," the ocelot said as she happily waved the both of them in. Judy made her way inside, Fangmeyer ducking below the entryway and into the front hallway with only a little effort on her part. The kitchen was groomed to perfection, as if the maid fairies had just finished, which Judy expected they might have.
"Please, call me Chelsey. What can I do for you two officers?" she asked pleasantly.
"We'd like to ask you a few things about your ex-husband," Judy repeated.
"Hmmm. Jules?" Chelsey asked.
Judy blinked, then shook her head in confusion. It took her a brief moment to realize that by ex-husband, Chelsey was unsure of which one Judy meant. She felt the soft tug of judgement creep into her head. It was the same part of her that assumed that predators who went savage did so because of 'biology', so she did her best not to let that part win.
"No, we mean Dr. Wiskberg," she clarified.
"Oh, Terry," Chelsey said with a frown. "I swear, that Nighthowler thing was, like, a gift from heaven."
"What do you mean by that?" Fangmeyer asked, carefully masking any surprise by Chelsey's statement.
"Well, Terrence was a nice guy and all, and he took care of me well enough, but he wasn't Mr. Right, you know? He was always talking about fancy science stuff that I don't care about, and whenever he got worried he'd get this super sketchy look on his face. I was worried about how I was gonna make my break when one day, viola!" she said as she gestured to herself, or her kitchen, or the world at large with another cheeky smile on her face. "No more Terry. He mauled that pig up so bad that lawyers were practically lining up at the door to handle my divorce."
Judy really did need to keep herself from groaning this time. Her flippant disregard for her husband's well-being and borderline sadism left a horrible taste in her mouth. Judy hated arriving at conclusions before hearing the whole story, but no matter how badly she wanted to avoid being judgemental, it did not take a detective to understand that she married for money. She could not imagine that Dr. Wiskberg married her for much more than her looks. Their age difference was enough to raise eyebrows.
"Do you know where he is now?" Judy managed to ask.
"Not a clue in the world," Chelsey said with a wave of her paw. "Don't you cops have, like, records for that?"
"His file returned a vacant apartment in the Meadows under last-known-address," Fangmeyer said.
"Hmph. I bet he's a bum by now. That might explain why the alimony checks stopped coming in. I sent some lawyer to serve a subpoena on my missing funds, but apparently you can't do that to unemployed guys after a certain time period. Deer-scat, I bet he had more," she pondered.
"He was still unemployed after you divorced?" Judy asked, now approaching disgust.
"Hm? Oh yeah, no one would hire him when they found out he went nuts! When I think about what those sheep did those years ago, I just thank heavens that was not me."
"I'm sure," Fangmeyer mumbled.
"When was the last you heard from him?" Judy followed up.
"About three weeks ago. He called to arrange a trip so that our son Gregory could go visit his grandparents out of town," Chelsey said.
"Is that where he is now?" Judy asked.
"Mmhmm," she answered with a happy nod. "I got the next week all to myself! I'm taking the girls out dancing tonight, then I've got a new mister-mister takin' me to the opera this weekend!"
"If he's homeless, how could he afford to send his son out of town?" Fangmeyer asked.
"What do I look like, an accountant?" Chelsey asked with a nearly insulted tone.
"No," Fangmeyer responded flatly.
"Whatever, I don't know. He offered to have him out for this week and I'm not one to ask."
"Did he seem extra pushy? Like he wanted his son out of town this week and not later?" Judy asked.
"I guess? I mean, he kind of popped up out of nowhere and made sure Greg had everything he needed to get to his folks' place. He even bought the train ticket," Chelsey remembered with a shrug.
"Can you tell me when this train was?" Judy asked.
"Sure. It was last Friday after school got out. I've been as free as a bird ever since," Chelsey said proudly. "Can I ask what this is all about? Is Terry in some sort of trouble?"
"He might," Judy commented, "Don't worry, your son will be just fine."
"He didn't involve me in anything, right? I swear I have no idea what he's doing," Chelsey said, suddenly seeming more interested in Judy's answer rather than her floppy ears.
"It's alright, Chelsey. I'm sure you'll be just fine," Judy said. She took just the slightest satisfaction at how Chelsey's nerves continued to twist when she left the question open-ended. With that, Judy closed her notebook and stuffed it back into her pocket, offering a professional smile to her hostess.
"That will be all. Be sure to call if he makes any contact with you, or if you learn about his whereabouts. That will make this all go much smoother," she said confidently.
"Oh, I will Officer!" Chelsey said frantically. "If I had anything more to give you, I would! I'm not above being a rat."
"Easy, Chelsey, some of our good friends are rats," Fangmeyer said sternly as she followed Judy towards the door. Judy could hear her furiously apologizing if she made any offense and offered to help ask around or bribe or anything to get her out of something incriminating. Judy simply shrugged her off and made her way back to the cruiser with Fangmeyer in tow.
"Talk about a motive," Fangmeyer sighed.
"Which part? The unemployment, the vagrancy, the divorce, or the ex-wife?" Judy asked.
"Well, I'd argue that two minutes with a mammal like that could drive anyone psycho. But imagine if you passed out one day and then all of that happened? One day you're a respected doctor of biochemistry living in a house like that, the next you're unemployed, divorced, broke, and can't even see your own son five days out of the week?"
Judy nodded along, taking in just how horrible it all was for Terrence. She heard of mammals that had fallen further, but never from so high and never all at once. All that trauma and change would have most mammals looking for someone to blame. If it were Judy, she would probably blame herself. But another mammal? One who married a female half his age for her looks? Perhaps he ran out of anyone specific to blame, so he blamed everyone.
"Let's get back to the station. We need to talk to Francine again," Judy said as they climbed back into the cruiser.
"You have an idea of what Terrence is up to?" Fangmeyer asked.
"If I only had one mammal I cared about in the city, I'd make sure he was out of town before I set bombs off."
Little did Judy know that Agent Savage would have a similar idea.
"One moment please!" Vivienne called out after the doorbell rang a second time. She hurried from the kitchen towards the front hallway, her footsteps causing small creaks in the floorboards. She was quick to give herself a once-over in the mirror, making sure she looked her usual self before undoing the lock on her front door. She did leave the chain in, though.
"Hello?" she called out, peeking her nose out through the crack in the door. Her eyes immediately found a dapper gray rabbit with stripes on his face, wearing a trim suit and a seemingly indifferent expression. He was accompanied by a badger, also wearing a suit, who scanned the outside of her house with alert eyes.
"Vivienne Wilde?" the rabbit asked her.
"Yes?" she asked hesitantly.
"My name is Jack Savage, I'm with the ZBI," he explained.
"What can I help you with, Mr. Savage?" she said politely.
"I was hoping I could speak with you about your son, Nicholas?" he asked. Vivienne shot a careful look at the badger behind him, reluctant to answer her question. Agent Savage seemed to take notice.
"Brocktree, hang back for a moment," he ordered in a hushed tone. "Is it alright if I come in, ma'am?"
After another moment of hesitation, Vivienne slowly closed the door and undid the chain before welcoming the rabbit into her home. He closed the door behind him and followed her to the living room. The walls were lined with a green floral-print wallpaper, and a lovely red sofa and armchair awaited them.
"Can I get you anything?" Vivienne offered.
"Oh no ma'am, thank you. I'll only take up a minute of your time," he said. He took a seat that was a bit too large for him and rested his elbows on his knees, sitting forward.
"Is Nick alright?" she asked him.
"He's alive, if that's what you're asking," Agent Savage assured her
She took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes for a moment before turning her attention back to her guest. "He is in trouble, isn't he?" she asked.
"Why do you say that?" Agent Savage pondered.
"You're the ZBI, right? The only reason you knock on a fox's door is if someone is in trouble," she said matter-of-factly.
"Well, perhaps I'm here as a background check before offering him a position? He is a police officer after all," the rabbit defended himself.
Vivienne scoffed. "If you had good news, you would have said so at the door," she said, motioning her head towards the front entryway.
"Hmm," Agent Savage nodded. "You are observant, Mrs. Wilde."
"Please don't drag me on, Mr. Savage. What is happening with my son?" she asked sternly
Savage propped his chin up with his paws and soured his expression, returning her stern look. "We believe he might be involved with a known terrorist," he said.
"What?" she nearly gasped. "Mr. Savage, my son has far from a clean record, but he has never hurt anyone."
"I am aware of his history, Mrs. Wilde. I understand he began ditching school at a young age to run scams in town, not long after your husband passed?" Agent Savage inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, well, he wasn't all that well behaved after a bunch of kids began picking on him. When my husband passed away, it hit him pretty hard. But that does not make him a monster," she argued.
"Your husband, he died from blood loss after a car accident, correct?" he asked her.
"That was 22 years ago. I fail to see what that has to do with Nick's current affairs," Vivienne replied angrily, crossing her arms.
"I understand that the EMCs at the scene took their time with the sheep in the other vehicle before turning to your husband. The file says the sheep was only treated with a bruised shoulder and a headache, yet they spent 14 minutes on him while your husband was dying. The EMCs were also prey, were they not?"
Vivienne scowled and looked at the floor. It was not something she liked to remember. She could still feel her own rage when a doctor explained to her later that an injured predator was more likely to lash out at emergency personnel, so they were likely afraid to get close. She was not sure which was more insulting: that fear killed her husband, or prejudice.
"My son is not a murderer," she said coldly.
"Ma'am, I just need to know if he had any contact with you recently," he tried to reason with her, his paws back down on his thighs.
"He's my son. Of course he calls me," she uttered, a fire slowly starting to build in her gut directed at the mammal sitting across from her.
"I am aware that he also purchased a plane ticket to Pawaii and a hotel for the rest of the week. Did you know about this as well?"
"He wanted to treat me to a nice vacation. Is that a crime?" she spat.
"Must have been expensive. I see you did not take him up on it," Savage said, gesturing to her.
"I volunteer with a mother's group for predators, helping raise kits. This week is the week we bring in all the members from out of town, and I'm hosting guests so I couldn't leave," Vivienne said with another shrug, as if to say his assertion was ludicrous.
"And when you asked for a different date, he refused and demanded you go this week, correct?" Savage asserted. Vivienne did not answer, nor did she need to. Her silence answered his question for him.
"Mrs. Wilde," he began softly. "It is not uncommon for violent criminals to try to warn their loved ones about a large-scale attack before the act. I need to know if he contacted you in the last 48 hours, or if you might be able to tell me his whereabouts."
Vivienne could barely keep from trembling as she shook her head and closed her eyes. Her paws were filled with fistfuls of her dress.
"He's lived with a bunny for nearly a year and hasn't bothered to introduce her yet," she commented. She continued to shake her head, fighting back tears threatening to find their freedom.
"Has he contacted you?" Agent Savage repeated himself.
She shook her head harder; this time a tear did streak down her cheek, which she quickly caught and rubbed away.
"Please leave," she all but whispered.
Agent Savage did as his hostess asked and rose from his seat. He offered his apologies and his condolences for her husband before making his way back to the door.
"If you hear anything from him, please let me know," Savage requested, pulling out a business card and placing it on the table by the door. Vivienne followed him out, opening the door for him more out of reflex than anything else. Years of being a welcoming host ingrained politeness into her bones, even when she did not care for her guest's well-being, apparently.
"Thank you for your time," he said graciously before heading down her stoop, taking his coworker with him.
Vivienne didn't respond. She slowly closed the door and held her paw against the doorknob for what could have been ages. She rested her head against the door, closing her eyes and wishing the truth away as if it were all a dream. There were moments when she was gripping the door with all her might, and others where she barely hung onto it at all. Her ears stayed down, and her entire body remained motionless. After a few silent minutes went by, she finally heard the shuffling of floorboards from behind her.
"Is any of that true?" she muttered, keeping her head against the door. She could hear him breathe, but he did not speak. He always had something to say to wiggle his way out of things. Why of all times would he choose now to be timid?
"Mother . . ." Nick said solemnly.
"Is any of what that rabbit said true?" she said a bit louder, turning to face him. His ears were down as well, and his eyes were filled with melancholy. He was holding a boarding pass in his paw with her name on it, holding it out towards her. He didn't answer her question, and it sank daggers into her gut.
"Mother, please," he said, a hint of desperation in his voice as he gestured to the ticket in his hand. She furrowed her brow and scowled at him fiercely before stepping to the side and pointing to the door.
"Get out of my house," Vivienne breathed. Nick's face contorted in a way that precious few had actually witnessed before. She watched him silently make his way to the door and open it, not daring to look her in the eye any longer. He simply placed the ticket on the table, put on his father's hat, and he was gone.