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The Fire Triangle—A Zootopia Fanfiction
Part One:
Fuel
Chapter 13 –Facts are Stubborn Things
(Pt. 1)
Nick coughed into a fist and began to make his pitch.
"I realize this must seem like a distraction, Chief. Trust me—it's not. And we're not offering any speculations here. All we ask is that you examine the evidence and make your own…' Mmm...no, I don't think so. '…And draw your own conclusions. Yeah there we go." He turned and looked at Judy. "What do you think, Carrots, is that better?"
'Carrots' didn't answer him right away; what she did think was, "If I hear you rehearsing that stupid speech ONE! More! Time…!"
She said nothing of the kind; it wasn't just Nick and his constant prattling that had her in such a tetchy mood, (although that certainly didn't help.) Nope, it was the ringing chorus in the back of her head.
"PRED AND PREY – KEEP AWAY! PRED AND PREY – KEEP AWAY!"
And so she opted for a slightly more diplomatic response.
"Nick, please? We're getting enough stares as it is…and stop worrying; it'll work just as well either way."
In other words, whichever way the fox presented his argument, it was going flop like a beached mackerel. Ohhhh, sweet cheez n' crackers…somehow, she had to persuade him to let her do most of the talking.
They were parked on a bench, outside Chief Bogo's office—sitting as far apart as room would allow. (Lovebirds….US?) They were waiting not for his summons, but his return. (He'd been absent for most of the day, something like a record for the ZPD police chief.)
From what Judy had overheard since returning to Precinct-1, (thank goodness for those sharp rabbit-ears,) Bogo was not going to be in the best of moods when he landed back here. He'd reportedly been forced to call an impromptu press conference in the wake of the Flora and Fauna blaze—and the media had hammered him mercilessly. The LAST thing he was going to want to hear was some cockamamie story about predators going savage again.
Nonetheless Judy felt she had no choice. By now, she was doubly sure of what she'd seen in the alley behind Rafaj Brothers Jewelers…and Nick was equally certain of what he'd witnessed out back of the Flora and Fauna flower shop.
One question remained, however…and now the red fox finally asked it.
"Why, Carrots…why did Mr. Big—or whoever—go after that flower shop? I don't remember seeing it on the list of possible targets."
There it was, out in the open at last. Or…perhaps it was better to say that the lid was off the can of worms.
"You didn't," Judy told him. "I checked while we were on our way back to the precinct, and then did a data-base search, (anything to take her mind off that angry crowd.) As far as I can tell, the Red Pig doesn't have ANY sort of connection to Flora and Fauna…and please don't say, 'then why' again. If I knew that I'd have already told you."
Nick folded his arms and hunched into himself, the perfect picture of a grumpy old fox.
"You know Carrots, there's only one thing worse than a partner that doesn't understand you."
She regarded him with a raised eyebrow.
"And what's that?
He hunched even further inwards.
"One that does!"
"Oh, YOU!" Judy said, but she didn't laugh. Given the events of earlier that day, it wasn't funny. That was why when she spoke again, she made certain to pick her words carefully, "Actually, I think I may have some idea about that. When I interviewed Mrs. Tichor, she called those polar bears 'goombears'."
Nick's head snapped around as if spring-loaded.
"What! Why didn't you mention this before, Fluff?" (So, he knew the term as well, no surprise there.)
Judy simply shrugged. "Would it have made any difference if I had? And yes, I'm going to bring it up with the Chief; a little credit, please?"
"Sorry, sorry," the fox replied, raising his paws in that same gesture he'd used before, "Where'd you hear about 'goombear' though, from Swinton?"
A corner of the doe-bunny's mouth pulled upwards; clever fox.
"Yep, she told me she first heard it back when she was working in corrections…and that the only animals who used it were the Red Pig's soldiers."
"Yep," Nick echoed, letting out a small, amused gekker. "They're pretty much the only animals who can get away with saying that word—and even then, not always. Remember that sit-down I told you about, the first and only time only time Mr. Big and the Red Pig ever met face-to-face? One of Peccari's bodyguards called Raymond a 'goombear' under his breath—and Kevin overheard it; almost went across the table at him. He would have too, if the Red Pig hadn't also heard it. And whoo, talk about an animal who lives up to his reputation. He smacked that other pig so hard, I was sure he must have broken something. And then he made him apologize to Mr. Big."
"I guess even Rocco Peccari has rules to play by," Judy snickered.
Nick grimaced and fanned a paw.
"True, but then he also had a potentially VERY serious situation on his hooves. You see, back then Kevin hadn't been made yet…but The Red Pig's bodyguard had. If Kev had so much as laid a finger on him, he'd have been dead...and then Peccari would have had a lot of explaining to do. He was still only a captain in those days—and his boss hadn't sent him to that sit-down to start a brawl."
Before responding to the fox, Judy let the wheels turn in her head for a moment. Oh Lordy, was there ANYTHING about La Cosa Nostra that made sense?
"But, the Red Pig was made…so he COULD get away with it, right?"
"Not only made, he was a Capo," the red fox pointed out. "And that other pig was only a soldier. Peccari could have smacked him around just for fun if he'd wanted." His mouth pulled inwards and backwards, as if he'd just now remembered something. "Carrots," he said, speaking as warily as she had a moment ago, "Are you thinking that maybe Mrs. Ticker…?"
"Tee-KORR."
"All right, Tee-chor," he corrected himself, "Are you suggesting that maybe she might be the connection between that flower shop and the Red Pig?"
"The thought did cross my mind," Judy answered, pursing her lips and nodding slowly, "And yes, I remember what you said about Cosa Nostra being strictly a boy's club. But it's the only thing I can think of that works."
Nick settled into that hunch again, this time with an uneasy look on his face.
"Yes, maybe…but if she IS the connection, I just hope it isn't by blood." He looked at her with hard, earnest eyes, "Because if that's the case, there's nothing that can stop a gang-war now."
The two of them settled into a brooding silence…and now Judy assumed the same half-bent stance as her partner.
She wouldn't say it, but there was one small glitch in that blood-tie scenario. Marie Tichor was a giant forest pig—while Rocco 'The Red Pig' Peccari was a javelina. Technically, he wasn't any species of pig…and that made it impossible for two of them to be related by blood, even distantly.
So, why couldn't she shake the feeling that her partner had just nailed it?
She felt her paws clenching inwards; Oooo, this was frustrating. "I need…more…answers!"
It might have interested Judy to know that at the very moment, another bunny was saying much the same thing.
"I want answers, Whitepaugh."
Jack LaPeigne did not raise his voice as he spoke, nor did his fist come crashing down on his oversized desk. The words were delivered calmly, almost serenely—something that never failed to terrify those who knew him well.
…With one very notable exception, the wolverine currently standing before him.
"Not as much as I do," Seth Whitepaugh assured the big bunny, gesturing to the chair in front of his superior's desk. It was not a request for permission to sit down, but rather a statement of his intention to do so.
La Peigne only waved indifferently…as if his Chief of Field Operations had been asking rather than telling. (This was no time for an argument over protocol.) He had a million questions on his mind right now, but only one that really mattered. "What the heck happened out there?"
"As of yet, we don't know," the wolverine admitted, taking his seat, his voice as flat as a concrete slab, "but...we hope to find out. In the meantime, we at least have a clue. There's something Mr. Truffalini said to…"
"So it was 'The Painter!'" La Peigne interrupted with his eyes flashing. Vinnie 'the Painter' Truffalini was one of the Sahara Square mob's most feared enforcers. If the Red Pig had put HIM in charge of that ambush, he'd known with near certainty that Flora and Fauna flower shop was the target.
Only…HOW had he known?
"Yes, it's been confirmed," Whitepaugh answered, before moving on, "and what he said was, 'You goombears can fool the cops into thinking you were going to hit one of the pizzerias, but you can't fool us'…or words to that effect. And it tells us a number of things."
He paused, as if waiting for a reaction. La Peigne only nodded and waved for him to get on with it.
"First of all," the wolverine gestured with his white-furred paw as he spoke, "Peccari not only knew that Flora and Fauna was the target, he also knew the ZPD thought it was going to be one of the pizzerias. That says the intel came from the Sahara Square mob's source inside Police Headquarters." Hearing this, Jack ears went up and his nose began to twitch. Not from being informed that the Red Pig had mole inside the ZPD; he'd known about that for the better part of a year. Nooo, there was something else Whitepaugh had said—something that WAS a surprise.
"All right, but if that's the case, then how did he find out that the flower shop WAS the real target?" Now his voice did begin to rise. "I seem to recall you telling me that the ZPD didn't have a clue that Flora and Fauna was Ground Zero!"
"Yes," Whitepaugh conceded, backing off—and then launching a counterthrust, "but at the same time, those Razorbacks had no idea WE were actually behind the attack. Remember what Truffalini said, 'goombears?' And he also made a reference to 'that shrimp you work for,' As far as those Razorbacks knew, Mr. Big was the one who gave the order to burn down that flower shop. That part of the operation, at least, went just as we planned it." His eyes narrowed and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "And that tells me something else; however, and wherever, The Red Pig obtained his information, it didn't come from anywhere inside of OUR organization."
La Peigne heaved a breath and scratched behind an ear. That was one thing to be thankful for.
"I think you should know Sir," the wolverine had suddenly gone all formal. "It's very possible that The Red Pig may have simply made an educated guess."
At once the big bunny was on the alert, ears up and nose twitching.
"An educated…GUESS?"
"Yes," the Aker Chief of Field Ops responded smoothly, "As you know, the ZPD had a list of possible targets distributed to their officers on call last night…a list that, as you are also aware, did NOT include the Flora and Fauna flower shop. It's far from inconceivable that the Red Pig managed to get his hooves on a copy of it."
Jack felt his nose twitching faster.
"But…how would that have led him to the real target?"
Whitepaugh laced his fingers together, looking upwards at the ceiling with a slightly pouty expression.
"This is all strictly conjecture you understand, but…a lot of animals tend to underestimate Rocco Peccari's intelligence. Because he's such a crude character, they assume he's equally stupid." He lowered his gaze, looking directly at the big bunny. "He's not. If that were true, he'd never have gotten as far as he has in La Cosa Nostra. He's actually one very smart javelina; smart enough to have figured out that the Tundratown mob probably have their own informer inside the ZPD."
"Which they do," La Peigne pointed out, unable to resist a snigger. One thing he knew and the Red-Pig didn't was that the Sahara Square mob's police insider and the one reporting to Tundratown were one and the same animal.
But then he frowned, realizing for the first time where Whitepaugh was going with this.
"So then," the big bunny ventured cautiously, "Peccari might have figured, 'If I know about this list, Mr. Big must know about it too. And if he does, no way will he hit any of these places, not with the cops keeping watch."
"Exactly," Whitepaugh answered, pleased that he'd grasped it so quickly, "But the ZPD made one small mistake in compiling that list —not surprising, considering how little time they had to put it together. Every business listed there is one in which The Red Pig has a financial stake; it never occurred to them that there might be one or two with which he has a different type of connection."
Jack's eyes widened slightly, like a kit that's just discovered the location of 'Where's Walrus?' "But," he said, as wary as a rabbit emerging from dense woodland into an open meadow, "Mr. Big, being Costa Nostra himself…he would have been aware of any such other links."
"…And the Red Pig would have known that he knew," the wolverine concluded, cocking a finger. But then his back abruptly straightened and his face became that of a stone sphinx. "I, of course, should have thought of that before I green-lit this morning's operation. The responsibility for whatever went wrong is mine and mine alone."
"We can discuss that later," La Peigne told him, knowing full well that the subject would never come up again. It was enough that his Chief of Field Ops was willing to let the buck stop with him…and nobody gets it right EVERY time.
Besides, there was something else they needed to discuss; the wolverine's theory was just a little too neat for his tastes.
"All right, hold on a second. As we both know, unlike Rocco Peccari, Mr. Big is a creature of method; he always plans carefully and takes his time. If he'd found out the ZPD was laying for him, wouldn't he have simply called off the arson attack until later? And wouldn't the Red Pig have anticipated such a move?"
"Peccari probably did consider it," Whitepaugh agreed, "But with the ZPD almost 100% certain the attack was happening last night—we made sure of that—he couldn't afford to take any chances." He folded his paws a second time, tapping his index fingers together, "As I said before, this is all just guesswork, but for the moment, it's the most likely explanation we have for what happened."
"Very well," the big bunny nodded and then hesitated. The next question he had was the one he most dreaded having to ask.
He gritted his teeth and asked it.
"So then, where do we stand at present?"
It was a simple query and more than a little vague. But as loaded questions go, this one was a howlitzer.
"I am ordering the immediate suspension of the Fire Triangle operation," Whitepaugh responded at once. The look on Jack's face must have been plain as day, because he added quickly, "Suspension sir…not cancellation. The operation is still salvageable."
Had it been practically any of his other subordinates that said this, they'd have been out the door in an eyeblink…with a pink-slip in their paws. Jack La Peigne didn't like it when one of his subordinates tried to sugarcoat a bad situation. However, this time the animal in question was Seth Whitepaugh—who never used sugar and who was also...well, Seth Whitepaugh.
"How do you figure?" the big bunny asked, regarding his Chief of Field Ops with a twitching nose.
That hint of a phantom smile returned to the wolverine's face again.
"First of all, there was one unexpected occurrence this morning that actually works in our favor. For some reason, Mr. Tichor and his wife decided to show up early today. We could never have anticipated that, but it turned out to be very much to our advantage." His smile seemed to broaden for a second, "Mrs. Tichor, it seems, got a good look at our operatives as they fled the scene—and now she's absolutely convinced it was Mr. Big who gave the order to burn down her husband's business."
"Ho, that is good news." La Peigne fell back in his chair and almost clapped his paws. (Almost; this was only the first of many hurdles.) "Is there any chance the Red Pig might decide to retaliate against Mr. Big…errr, on his own?" Given what he'd heard so far, that was far from unlikely outcome.
"No," Whitepaugh frowned as he shook his head. "I'll explain why in a moment, but that's actually another good thing. We can salvage the operation, like I said, but we're going to need some breathing space. First of all, before we can even consider re-starting the Fire Triangle operation, we need to know exactly how those Razorbacks came to be lying in wait for us." His finger arced up sharply, like a revving tach needle. "But ahead of everything else, we need to do perform some damage control."
Jack lifted a cagey ear. "What…kind of damage control?"
The wolverine responded by leaning forward on his knees.
"To begin with, there's Mrs. Tichor again. She saw Bergdorf closely enough that she'll be able to identify him if she encounters him again. Accordingly, I've ordered him out of the country for some R-and-R."
La Peigne's right ear and eyebrow lifted higher than the others.
"A temporary vacation, I hope Whitepaugh, NOT permanent. He and Barrow handled that ambush almost perfectly."
"Absolutely!" Seth Whitepaugh was mildly offended. "In fact, I was going to suggest a cash bonus for the both of them. We need to encourage that kind of grace under pressure in our operatives."
"Consider it done." The big bunny rapped his desktop with his fingertips. But then his ears went back and the corners of his mouth turned downward. "How much of Barrow did that sow see; any chance she could identify HIM?"
"She only caught a glimpse of him through window of the Minks van." Whitepaugh answered quickly, "but I understand your concern." He didn't go into detail, and didn't need to; both of them knew the score. Marie Tichor was the ZPD'S chief witness in the Flora and Fauna arson case. She was going to be spending a lot of her free time in Precinct-1 over the next few days—and Barrow was a police officer, serving out of that same location. The chances that they might cross paths were anything but remote. Instead, he told the big bunny, "We're having him take a few days sick-leave. That should give us time to come up with something a bit more long term."
"Thank goodness he and Bergdorf are both polar-bears," Jack observed, his mouth twisting upwards into a wry expression. With their almost uniformly white fur, polar bears could be difficult at best for members of other species to tell apart from each other. (Of course, they didn't all smell the same, but Mrs. Tichor had only gotten a look at, not a whiff of, the two operatives that had burned her husband's shop—and pigs are not noted for having keen eyesight.)
Now the big bunny tucked in his paws and lifted his chin, both ears standing erect; the picture of a rabbit on guard. It was time to bring up something that he'd thus far been keeping under wraps.
"Given that the Red Pig's about as a stable as a shipment of nitro on a bumpy road, isn't the ZPD going to find it strange when he doesn't retaliate right away?"
Whitepaugh shot him that hint of a smile again.
"No sir…because right now, he's spooked; he sent a crew of his toughest enforcers to protect that flower shop—and they got their tails kicked and the place was burned down anyway. After suffering a setback like that, even Rocco Peccari won't be any too eager to make a move on Mr. Big…not until he knows what he's up against, at least." He sniffed and cleared his throat, "This is nothing the ZPD shouldn't be able to figure out for themselves of course; they won't be expecting the Sahara Square mob to strike back for a while either."
La Peigne studied his Chief of Field Ops for a second, and then raised a knowing finger.
"Ah-haaah, so that's why you insisted on Bergdorf and Barrow completing their mission!"
Heh, wasn't that just like Seth Whitepaugh? Always taking the long view; it was another big reason why Jack had brought him on board.
"That's correct," the wolverine nodded, "In order to keep the Red Pig in check, his ambush had to be a total failure; nothing else would have sufficed."
"Very well," La Peigne sat back in his chair, forming a steeple with his fingers, "What about that Razorback they found behind the flower shop; any chance HE might cause us some trouble?"
To his momentary astonishment, Whitepaugh actually laughed, something you saw about as often as a green sun.
"That's taking care of itself," he explained when he recovered. "He's heavily sedated right now. And less than half an hour after they brought him into the ER, guess which little, grey rat showed up at the hospital?"
Now it was Jack's turn to smile, "Ahhh that wouldn't be a certain Vernon J. Rodenberg, Attorney at Law, would it?" If that was the case, the ZPD was getting zippity-do-dah out of the pig they had in custody.
"The one and only," Whitepaugh nodded, sniggering again, "had a couple of bonded security officers with him; borrowed them from the Palm Hotel. He raised quite the merry fuss with the officers on duty, so I'm told." He cleared his throat, making his voice as wee as possible. "'My client is clearly the victim here, and yet you're treating him like a suspect! That's completely unacceptable; from now on, my associates here will be keeping watch on him…'" He flipped a paw back and forth, "blah, blah, blah. Eventually the police backed down."
Jack almost laughed too, but then he frowned. That was all well and good, but there was the small matter of a report he'd come across recently. Apparently that little, grey so-and-so had been poking his nose into places where it didn't belong. So far, he hadn't come close to uncovering anything of consequence, but given his reputation, it would be necessary to keep an eye on him, something Aker Security Management could ill afford at a time like this.
Whitepaugh cleared his throat again, this time throwing in a cough. Jack knew what that meant; the wolverine was about to touch on something especially sensitive.
"Our major worry right now is the forensic evidence. Between the ambush and the Zootopia Fire Department's quick response, the destruction of that flower shop wasn't nearly as complete as in the previous instances. ZPD Arson was able to recover several pieces of evidence from the scene, including shell casings, a shotgun, fur samples—and the item of our greatest concern, a tac-vest, found in the alley behind the shop. That particular piece of evidence turned out to have bloodstains on it." He paused for effect and then added, "blood that's been positively identified as belonging to a polar bear."
Jack stared for a moment as if he might not have heard correctly. On the face of it, this was more good news; further 'proof' that Mr. Big had been behind the Flora and Fauna blaze. There was just one problem: In this day and age a blood sample can tell you a lot more about the 'donor' than just their species.
"But wouldn't the heat from the fire have…?"
"No," Whitepaugh cut him off with a shake of his head. "The ZPD managed to rescue that vest before the fire flashed."
"Hooray for them!" La Peigne responded bitterly, and then closed his eyes and took a slow breath. He had the feeling that there was more to this than Whitepaugh was letting on. Never mind; in that light, his ordering the suspension of the Fire Triangle operation had been exactly the right call. "Have you any idea from which of our two operatives those bloodstains could have come?"
"Either one," the wolverine answered, in the same flat voice he'd used earlier, "they both suffered a number of small cuts after we activated them—there was a lot of broken glass flying around inside that place However, it was most likely Barrow; that tac-vest almost certainly came from the pig found in the alley behind the flower shop. That animal was a warthog, the only one present as far as we can determine. And in his debriefing, Barrow specifically stated that the first animal he encountered following his activation was a warthog…and that it was a very intense encounter."
Once more the big bunny shut his eyes, this time wrapping his elbows around his head. A blood sample from Bergdorf would have been bad, but one from Barrow was far worse. He was leading a double life as a police officer—and all new members of the ZPD were required to submit a DNA sample upon graduating from the police academy. If the blood on that tac-vest was his, Forensics would be onto him in a heartbeat.
Luckily for Jack, he had Seth Whitepaugh in his corner.
"The good news is that ZPD doesn't run their DNA matches in house; they use the Zootopia Health Sciences University genetics lab."
"No kidding, really?" Jack was staring with his nose twitching. "Why's that?" Every day, and in every way, DNA Forensics was becoming more and more of an essential element in police work; you would think the Zootopia PD would want to keep it all in the family.
"The usual issue; budgetary concerns," Whitepaugh shrugged and waved a paw. "A DNA lab doesn't come cheap, after all. But as for ZSHU Genetics, they're good, but they're not fast. And while they've got some very good cybersecurity protecting their database, it's nothing that can keep us out." He smiled again, this time with a fang showing. "I think I can safely assure you sir, the results from any DNA match with the bloodstains on that tac-vest are going to be inconclusive."
"I know it was rather abrupt, but we needed to get you two out of there, didn't we? We've got troubles enough at the moment without a berserk mob on our hooves. In any event, none of it was your fault."
It wasn't the closest Chief Bogo had ever come to an apology, but good enough for Judy Hopps.
He had arrived back at Precinct-1 looking calm and fully refreshed. At first, the doe bunny had been slightly awestruck. How the heck had he managed to keep his composure after the day he'd just endured?
But then Nick had sniffed the air and laid a paw upside of his muzzle.
"Shampoo and laundry soap, Carrots," he'd whispered…meaning Bogo had showered and changed before returning to his office; not quite so implacable as she'd initially surmised.
Now she watched as he settled in behind his desk, drawing a raucous squeak of protest from the base of his massive task chair. "One of these days, got to get those casters oiled," he muttered, speaking to no one in particular. (He'd been performing this ritual for as long as Judy had known him.)
"Right then," Bogo motioned to the chair in front of the desk; one seat for both of them, as always, "Have you made your report to Arson Division?"
"We have," Judy answered. She was SO glad she hadn't let Nick talk her into waiting to file that report. "But something else came up while we were investigating that fire—something that may be related to another case, the Rafaj Brothers Jewelry sting."
Bogo instantly proved that no, he wasn't in a receptive mood this afternoon.
"Cor, this is what you wanted to see me about? That case is CLOSED Hopps!" He snorted and blew a note through his nose.
Judy winced and then glanced hurriedly at Nick—hoping he wouldn't be halfway out of his seat. He had only agreed to let her do the talking at the very last second, and even then, only reluctantly. She was relieved to see him sitting like a marble statue…for now.
"Yes Chief, I know," she answered quickly, "But like I said, it's related to our…er, the current case." (She forced herself not to wince, the Flora and Fauna arson fire was not their case. Way to start things off, DUMB bunny!)
But Bogo only leaned forward, folding his arms on his desktop blotter.
"Right, what have you got, then?" He seemed genuinely interested in what his officers had to tell him—but Judy could see his trademark 'show me' stare, hiding behind the veil. She glanced at Nick again before answering.
"It's two things, actually. They may be nothing, but we'd rather inform you and have them be nothing than keep quiet and find out they were important later on."
Bogo nodded and rolled his hoof in the air, his tiredness finally beginning to show through. That told the doe-bunny she had better start off with the easy one first.
"First of all Chief…this is something we DID mention in the report to Arson Division, but I think it's worth repeating. When I interviewed Mrs. Tichor, she referred to those polar bears as 'goombears.' Swinton heard her too and she told me later that it's a term only used by the Razorbacks. Not only that, we're both pretty certain she lied to me. When I asked her about the other animals inside the flower shop—the ones she heard fighting with those polar-bears—she swore she couldn't hear them over the rest of the noise."
"Yet she was able to hear the polar bears," Nick Wilde pointed out, speaking up for the first time, "And we now know the animals they were fighting was a Razorback crew. Believe me those pigs DON'T like to work quietly."
"And Mrs. Tichor claimed have to no idea what sort of animals they were." Judy reached for the thread and grabbed it, "Her own species and she couldn't tell that much? I don't think so."
"Neither do I," Bogo replied, the left side corner of his mouth ticking drolly upwards. Uh-Ohhh, Judy knew what that meant; she hadn't told him anything he didn't already know. In fact, he probably knew more than she did.
She saw him fumbling for his glasses with one hoof, while booting up his desktop with the other. A moment of scrolling followed, and then he turned the screen in her direction. It showed a picture of Marie Tichor, together with a photo of another giant forest pig, this one a boar, shown front and side view; a ZPD mugshot.
"Marie Tichor." The Chief recited, mispronouncing the name as TIE-Kor, "Maiden name, Marie Truffalini. The pig next to her is Vincent 'Vinnie' Truffalini, aka Vinnie the Painter, her younger brother…and also a Razorback and one of the Red Pig's most trusted enforcers."
Judy looked at Nick and heard him let out a low whistle. So THAT was why Marie had held out on her. Hmmm, she had to wonder, could brother Vinnie have been one of the pigs inside that store?
But then she saw that Bogo was holding up a hoof again, looking almost like the host of an infomercial; 'but wait, there's more!'
"And that's not the half of it; Joe Peccari, The Red Pig's late father was also Marie and Vincent's Godfather." He regarded the doe-bunny with a jaundiced eye. "I think you, of all animals, should be able to grasp the significance of that, Hopps."
At this, Judy could only swallow and swallow hard. How could she not know what that meant? She herself was a Godmother to one of Mr. Big's grandchildren.
These thoughts were interrupted by a yip from the fox sitting next to her.
"Sir," he said, speaking to Chief Bogo, "if that's true, witnesses or no witnesses, I find it very hard to believe Mr. Big was responsible for the Flora and Fauna fire. Like you yourself said, he's an Old School mobster…and next to Omerta, the most ironclad rule in Cosa Nostra is that family members who aren't mobbed up are supposed to be left alone. Even if the Big Shrew was inclined to break that rule, I can't see him doing it over having a few of his properties torched. It would take something a lot more serious than that to get him to even consider the idea."
"Hold on," Judy jumped in suddenly, "Are you sure Marie Tichor couldn't be mobbed up? This is the Red Pig, not Mr. Big we're talking about…and didn't you tell me once that he thinks mob traditions are a joke?" Even to her, it sounded like a silly question, but she had to be certain, just the same.
"Not ALL of them," the fox responded, in a tone of complete certainty, "Any Cosa Nostra boss who tried to break the rule about 'no females' would have an instant mutiny on his paws. As for Mr. Tichor…"
Judy instantly cut him off.
"Oh come on Nick, even I know they'd never let a scaredy-pig like HIM into the Sahara Square Mob."
"Sorry…sorry," the fox's paws went up quickly; he knew he'd gone a mite too far.
"As far as we know neither he, nor his wife, have ever taken a penny from the Red Pig." Bogo seemed to be trying to forestall an argument between his officers. "But," he went on, his expression turning frosty, "that isn't to say they never mingle socially." His hoof moved to his computer mouse, and a new image appeared on the screen. Judy recognized it at once for what it was, a police surveillance photograph, shot through a telephoto lens. It showed Franklin and Marie Tichor, together with Rocco Peccari, the three of them raising glasses in an apparent toast.
"That was taken last year at the Palm Hotel New Year's gala," he told them, "and we've got more than a few others like it in our files. Franklin and Marie Tichor may not want the Red Pig's money, but they're not too good to be seen with him in public." He turned his attention back to Nick. "Just the same, you're right Wilde; this makes the arson attack on Flora and Fauna Flower Shop a very risky move on Mr. Big's part." Judy saw her partner begin to sag; he hadn't gotten through to the Chief after all. But then Bogo added quickly, "assuming that it WAS Mr. Big. In any event, now you know why that shop wasn't on the list of possible targets."
"Right," Nick nodded, straightening up again. But then his ear wilted slightly and Judy thought she knew why—because she felt the same way. Poor Chief Bogo; the press was going to have field day with that information when they got hold of it, (assuming they hadn't already.)
As if sensing their disquiet, the big Cape buffalo hurriedly shifted gears.
"Right, and what's that other matter, then…the one related to the Rafaj Brothers case?"
Judy looked at Nick and nodded, deciding to take a chance by letting him tell it after all. (Like it or not, he was the one who'd first made the connection.)
To her immense relief, the red fox repeated the story baldly, no opinions, no embellishments. He did, however, leave out one important detail; the face Judy had seen looking at her from around a corner, after Rashid had thrown himself at her feet. (She bore him no ill will for the omission; that part of the story was hers to tell, not his.)
He continued, saying, "Chief, I have no idea what went on inside that flower shop. But whoever was sent in to torch that place, they were able to run off an entire crew of Razorbacks, and tear a security door right off its hinges…and that brings us back to the Rafaj Brothers sting, and the hippo we busted. At the time, I thought he'd gotten his injuries when he went through that wall." He shook his head, "Not anymore I don't, not after seeing that Razorback; his injuries not only looked the same as what I saw on that hippo, HE sounded and smelled the same. Both of those animals were scared to death—and you don't get that just from crashing through a brick wall."
He stopped, chewing on his lip for a second. It was quite possibly the most obvious dramatic pause Judy had ever seen.
And it made her want to face-pawlm herself from here back to Bunnyburrow. Ohhh, sweet cheez n'…why hadn't she shushed him when she had the chance? Nick was about to go off script, she could feel it in the twitching of her nose.
He immediately proved her right.
"And even that hippo wasn't the first time I saw claw-marks like that," he said, "or smelled that kind of fear. It happened to me before; an incident that I only just now remembered. The injuries weren't nearly as bad, and the smell of fear wasn't nearly as strong but…"
"Will you just get on with it?" Bogo groused, waving a weary hoof.
"Will you just shut up?" Judy wanted to scream. It was like watching a glass roll towards the edge of a table—and knowing you're too far away to reach it in time.
"It was before I joined the ZPD, when Car…errr, Officer Hopps and I went to talkt to Mr. Manchas."
"Whoa boy, heeeere we go." Judy clutched at her elbows, wishing she was a mouse, and there was a hole in the wall for her to crawl in.
"A full-grown jaguar," Nick went on, "an apex predator, terrorized by a teensy, little otter..."
Chief Bogo stared across his desk for a second, his expression anything but encouraging.
The fox didn't seem to notice.
"…and that scratch on his eye; the warthog had one over his eye almost exactly the same…and like I said, maybe the smell of fear wasn't quite as strong on Mr. Manchas as it was on him but…"
Bogo's hoof came down on his desk so hard Judy actually felt the legs of their chair leave the ground. The bellow that came afterwards was enough to make the window shimmer.
Nick stared for a moment in stunned silence…while Judy stared scornfully at him. "What the heck else did you EXPECT, dumb fox! It was one thing to tie the Flora and Fauna arson fire to a recently closed case—but this was ancient history.
Bogo, meanwhile, was leaning across his desk, looming over her and Nick like a gathering thundercloud, his voice smoldering with genial sarcasm.
"Wilde? Please tell me something…that the next words out of your mouth were NOT going to be a suggestion that someone's darting predators with Nighthowler again."
"N-No sir," the red fox stammered. Only now did he seem to realize he'd put his foot in it. But then, he swiftly recovered. "Not at all, but SOMETHING'S going on here besides gangsters setting arson fires." He looked suddenly in Judy's direction, "Tell him, Carrots; tell him what you saw in that other alley, the one behind Rafaj Brothers."
Judy would have preferred to wring her partner's neck. Up until that very second, she'd been giving some serious thought to keeping that information to herself. (If Bogo didn't like what he'd heard so far…) Now, she'd have no choice but to spill it. "Thanks a LOT, blabberfox!"
And yet, and yet…
He'd been dead right about Renato Manchas; the big cat's eye injury really had been almost an exact duplicate of the one she'd seen on that warthog, (as far as she could remember from a cellphone-camera pic.) And, right again, the claw marks on that hippo had also looked very much like the slash marks over the jaguar's right eye.
But that wasn't ALL Judy had seen that day, in the street behind Rafaj Brothers' Jewelers…and Bogo was waiting. Ohhh, how to put this? She didn't dare tell him everything, (certainly not that it was Howell's face she'd thought she'd seen.)
"I…after that hippo gave it up I thought I saw a face looking at me from around the corner. I only saw it for maybe a second or two, but it looked…like…like one of the faces I saw behind the glass in the Cliffside Sanitarium, that time when we busted Mayor Lionheart."
There, she'd said it…and whatever happened next, so be it.
To her considerable surprise, the Chief looked singularly unsurprised.
"And by any chance, did that face…speak to you, Hopps, something about an order to stay in the command truck perhaps?"
This time, Judy was unable to keep her pawlm from smacking her face. Bogo had just blindsided her five sides from Sunday. Howell! He must have already told the story from his POV.
And, dumb bunny Hopps, she should have anticipated it.
But more than that, Bogo had just put a torpedo in hers and Nick's theory about what had happened to that hippo and that Razorback. Bottom line, an animal gone savage was incapable of speech, much less conversing with someone. How the heck had she forgotten that part?
Nick, however, was not so easily put off.
"Sir, with all due respect, neither one of us is saying anything about animals going savage. But that warthog and that hippo didn't scare themselves half to death…and that door didn't get torn off on its own."
Bogo started to lean over the desk again, but then stopped himself and sat back in his chair, folding his arms and glancing thoughtfully up at the window.
That was Judy's cue to jump back in.
"Sir, like we said at the beginning, we're not offering any speculations…and all right, maybe there's no connection between those two incidents. But given the evidence—and it's there right there for you to verify—I don't see how we can afford to not at least consider that they might be related."
"And," Nick pointed out, "better we bring this to your attention and find out there wasn't a connection than keep quiet about it and find out there WAS."
Judy crossed her fingers and hoped that was all he was going to say. If he kept it shut from here on out, they just might walk away from this.
Bogo nodded and blew a puff of air out the side of his mouth.
"True…true," he sighed, "And yes, thank you for bringing this to my attention."
Judy let out a sigh of her own, but in her case, it was one of relief. If nothing else, she and Nick had successfully dodged a bullet; (though she would be having a few choice words with Mr. Slick about it later.)
"You're welcome sir," she said, and started to get up.
Bogo waved a hoof again, this time in a downward motion.
"Just a moment, Hopps; I didn't give you permission to go."
Judy took her seat again, trying not to grimace. So they hadn't avoided parking duty after all. (In short order, she would reflect that they should have been so lucky.)
Bogo, in the meantime, was adjusting his spectacles and searching his desktop printer tray for a document. His expression was not angry, but rather troubled, (which somehow made it even worse.)
He found what he was looking for and held it out before him, in his left hoof while steadying his glasses with the right.
And then he began to read, paraphrasing as he went.
"In view of the incident at the scene of Flora and Fauna arson fire, on Sunday the 19th, coupled with the unrest within Precinct One—this owing to a series of television and radio broadcast by one Mr. Rock Hardesty…etcetera, etcetera." He pursed his lips, peering over the rim of his glasses at the fox and bunny, "And on the recommendation of City Hall and with the concurrence of the ZPD Police Board, Officers Judith LaVerne Hopps and Nicholas Piberius Wilde are to be herewith placed on paid, administrative leave…"
Nick and Judy were instantly on their feet. But the Chief was quicker, holding up a hoof again, this time in a gesture of reassurance—and this time, speaking entirely for himself.
"This is not, I repeat NOT intended as a disciplinary action—you two have done nothing wrong, we understand that."
"Not EVERYONE understands it," Judy hissed inwardly, unable to keep the bitterness out of her thoughts. There were plenty of animals who considered her and Nick to be the worst thing since stale bread; otherwise this conversation wouldn't be taking place.
"Nonetheless," Bogo went on, "Given the critical nature of the events currently taking place in the City of Zootopia, we—and by that I mean City Hall, the Police Board, and Myself—we feel that it would be counterproductive for the two of you to remain on active duty at the present time…. Eh, that won't be necessary, Wilde."
Judy looked, and saw that Nick was starting to remove his badge. For one, brief, horrified moment, she thought he was going to turn in his resignation. But then his paw dropped back down again, leaving the badge where it was.
"Again, this is not being taken as a disciplinary measure," Bogo repeated, stressing the word 'not'. That led Judy to a question she didn't want to ask, but knew she couldn't avoid.
"How long is this…administrative leave supposed to last, sir?"
Bogo's answer to this was the definitive non-answer.
"Hopefully this business with Mr. Hardesty will blow over in short order once the two of you are off the streets. And then you can be brought back on duty A.S.A.P." He raised a fast finger. "However…while I cannot order you not to associate with one another for the duration, I most strongly recommend it. With no new material to go on, Mr. Hardesty, and his audience should lose interest in the pair of you rather quickly; out of sight, out of mind, as the saying goes. That, at least, is the thinking of the Police Board—and in this instance I happen to agree with them. The best way to handle this beast is to starve it to death."
Judy let out a rough sigh and tried not to slump in her seat. In so many words, she and Nick had just been told that their leave of absence was indefinite. And Bogo could try to spin it until it took off and flew around the room if he wanted; she knew the truth. Never once, within the doe bunny's memory had a ZPD officer been put on administrative leave for something other than a disciplinary infraction.
As had happened several times before, the big Cape buffalo seemed to read her thoughts.
"One more thing; I want to assure the both of you that this decision will have no effect on your chances of being elevated to the detective bureau…either of you."
He wasn't lying; Judy saw that right away. Bogo genuinely believed what he was saying. She, however, wasn't so sure…and judging by the look on Nick's face, he was harboring even graver doubts than her. Most of that decision-making process was out of the Chief's hooves; he couldn't possibly know for certain whether or not their chances of making detective had been damaged.
For the past two days, (or maybe it was weeks,) there'd been a question lying dormant in the depths of Judy Hopps' mind…and now it burst forth in all its anguished glory.
"How the HECK did all this happen?"
