Judy and Nick stared grim-faced up at the latest whopper of a puzzle-piece that had been dumped onto their investigation. If they were forlorn when they left the station, they were desolated now. They had been dispatched to a jumbled report of one or more victims, though one of the two turned out to be a drunk tiger suffering hypothermia. He had been rushed to Doctor Ages Memorial Hospital for treatment. The second, however, was not nearly so benign, nor as easily resolved. This was the second homicide in a week, one where the victim was prominently and brazenly displayed.

At first glance it appeared to be the body of a small, male caribou, although even those details were sketchy at best considering the condition that the body was now in. The upper half of the body was naked, the arms and hooves threaded through with barbed wire as though it had been stitched all up and down. The hooves were positioned on either side of the bull's face, which had its jaw wrenched open at a horrifying angle until it looked like it would nearly fall off. The tongue was cut clean off from within this voiceless scream.

The body itself was suspended by the modest rack of antlers on his head from the top arch of the gate entrance. The same type of barbed wire had been looped around the tines like lights on a holiday tree and then wrapped around the post to allow the body to hang straight down from it. A varnish of red and orange colors gave the reaching points the appearance of flames. The bottom half of the body had charred flesh inscribed with designs… possibly words, it was difficult to tell through the ice. The body was dipped up to the waist in layer upon layer of ice polished to the clarity of glass.

Once again, the cordon was up even before they'd arrived and the technicians were scurrying about at three times their normal speed, photographing and marking every crack and cranny around the displayed body. Given its location and the fact that literally half of it was frozen solid, it was a mad dash to keep the deceased as preserved as possible for the medical examiner to extract the most information he could from his remains.

If their prior victim had been 'interesting,' Judy had no idea what Ducky might say about this latest one.

"So, any tell-tale identifiers on this one, Slick?" she asked him, still staring up at the body that was slowly being lowered from the cross post.

"I wish." He snorted, then sneezed. "Only thing tell-tale here is that he was-" Nick paused to find the right word. "-burned, or maybe smoked, over locust wood."

Judy looked around at some of the few chimneys. "Like around here?"

He gave another snort. "Nah, mammals in T-Town use coal or wood-pellet furnaces, or nothing at all. No in-between."

Judy scribbled a note as a sharp twang signaled that their victim was coming down. Behind them a refrigerated box truck beeped as it backed up to just a few feet away for ease of loading, though lifting the body proved difficult even for the largest mammals given its posturing and the additional weight that the many layers of ice added. For a few minutes they jockeyed around before resorting to wheeling out a dolly to use. For those few minutes Judy and Nick circled the body like one would a statue in a museum, eyes roving over the intricacies not so much in awe as in rapt concentration. What could this mammal tell them about the monster or monsters that did this to him?

"These scribbles don't look random," Judy said as she peered through the glassy ice to the charred flesh beneath. She gestured for one of the techs to bring a camera over, while her pen was in rapid motion. Her eyes flitted up and down as she jotted the designs down on her notepad. She wrinkled her nose and brought out her cellphone. "Or maybe they're letters?"

"It would be so nice if Zootopia's crazies would learn to just post mean messages on the Ewe-Tube comments section like normal basement trolls."

"What would Bogo need us for then?" Judy asked with as much glibness as she could muster. The frozen body was at last strapped to a large dolly and one of the polar bear officers began to wheel it into the truck. She sighed. "That is something he'll start asking if we don't make some real strides on Bridget's case, though."

Nick chuffed a laugh. "I'm pretty sure the Union would have his horns if the words '48 hours' slipped his lips." He turned to their cruiser. "We should just focus on doing our job right, City Hall metrics be damned."

"Well, maybe I want more progress, then." Judy's nose wrinkled in disgust and she snapped her notebook closed. "Took two days for us to unravel a city-wide conspiracy. It feels like we should be doing better, faster… for them."

Her eyes tracked to the back of the truck and the closing doors that now hid their latest charge from view. Judy looked down at the scribbled writing on her notepad and tapped her pen to her chin in contemplation. She folded the notepad pages over the pen in one paw and drew her cell phone from her pocket with the other.

"Would you mind driving us back?" she asked Nick.

"Ahh, conceding to my superior driving ability?" he asked as they turned simultaneously in the direction of their patrol car. "It's okay, you can say it. You were bound to see the light eventually."

Judy rolled her eyes, even as they remained trained on her cellphone. "Hardly, dumb fox. I just want to use the time we're sitting in traffic to look up a couple of things. This… looks familiar, somehow."

"Suuuuuure, Carrots." He gave her a thumbs up with his typical smug smile. "You'll accept it one day. It's only a matter of time."

There was a second eye roll as Judy opened the passenger side door and hopped in. Nick maneuvered out of the Ice Park and onto the slick roads and morning commuter traffic of Tundratown. The ice flow routes helped to keep it a little lighter than downtown, but rush-hour was rush-hour was rush-hour no matter where you were in the city. It would be a while before they were back at the precinct.

They were cruising down the Inter-District 5 when Judy received a push-notice ping. She tapped her phone, then her ears shot up. "Gog Dammit!"

Nick swerved at her exclamation and managed to get over to the highway shoulder.

"What!?" He stopped the car and put up the flashers. "What is it?"

"That slimy little voyeuristic intestinal parasite Jiro did it again!" Judy thrust her phone over to her partner. There on the screen was another picture; this one from only an hour ago, as it showed Nick and Judy's arrival on the crime scene.

"Ohhhhh… fuzz."

"Yeah." She drew it back and hammered away the screen with her fingers. "Cyber's already diving into his social media, but just the absolute gall of this guy, I could just… grah!"

She made a few additional aggravated noises before focusing all of her attention on another incoming ping. The remainder of the ride back to the station was spent in mutually agreed silence, Judy glaring down at her smartphone and tapping away furiously at the screen. Nick was almost afraid to say anything to her at all. Her normal agitated state was, dare he say it, adorable; but once she was in this particular frame of mind it was generally best to wait her out. He took advantage of her distraction to take a somewhat circuitous route back to the station.

By 45 minutes, Judy had calmed down enough to notice they weren't back yet. He caught the side-eye she shot him and quickly turned down a side street. They were back at the precinct five minutes later.

Not that the detour helped in the end. They didn't even have a chance to pass by the front desk before the Chief's bellow rang down into the atrium. "HOPPS! WILDE!"

They both cringed, and steeled themselves inwardly for the inevitable reaming that was coming. As they approached Clawhauser's station, they saw and heard a caribou cow berating him.

"... and that's another thing!" she wailed in fury at the patient cheetah as she yanked another tissue from the box he was holding out to her. "H-h-how is it we had to f-find out from Muzzlebook of all things!" She blew her nose loudly with shoulders shuddering and tears streaming. "D-d-do you know what that d-did to our calves? To see Preston like… to…"

And she broke down in sobbing and more wailing over the counter, having finally made the transition from anger to grief.

"I know, Mrs. Peary… it'll be okay…" Clawhauser came around the desk and made the appropriate soothing shushing noises as Nick and Judy paused. He let the grieving caribou bury her face in his chest as he gave them a subtle head shake and rolled his eyes up to the mezzanine where the Chief was waiting.

Nick put a paw on Judy's back and urged her onward. "Let Benji handle it. We need to focus and find these creeps," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

She nodded and continued past with stiff steps as every inch of her railed against that action, to turn and let that poor mammal know that they would stop at nothing to find whoever had done this to her and her family. That she herself would personally ensure that the proverbial book was thrown at them. That if she had anything at all to say about it, they would see the fullest extent of justice that was possible under the law.

They arrived at the Chief's office and didn't even have the chance to knock when they heard a rather ominous "Enter."

They hadn't even started to salute when Bogo looked up from his desk. "Shut. The. Door." He steepled his hooves once the sound of the distraught mammal at the visitor's kiosk was muffled.

"I'm not angry with you two. Yet." The hard emphasis made Judy gulp. "Now, that may change depending on why you're nearly half an hour late arriving back from the crime scene."

"To be fair, sir, Officer Hopps was making excellent use of the rush-hour gridlock to communicate with Cyber regarding the incident," Nick replied smoothly, and Judy's ears perked.

"I thought for sure you would have gotten informed of the update as we were in transit, Chief," she added, piggybacking off of his deflection.

The bull snorted and tapped his keyboard. "I did get that update, though I'm sure I don't need to remind you that I prefer my officers update me in person, not through an email chain." He nodded towards the other chair in his office and spun his monitor around. "Based on the findings of the last photo taken by our shutterbug, Cyber was able to determine where he took his most recent photo from, and managed to find him on the CCTV network." He stared at the two in front of him. The cameras showed him arriving five minutes before the call to Tundratown's 911 center.

"He knew where to be, and knew to be there before the crime was called in. I want to know how." Another tap on his keyboard brought up a city map. "The Sun-Bearer has already informed us they refused to buy his latest photos, so apparently he became impatient and posted them himself. Cyber tracked him to an internet cafe, and they insist he's still there."

He spun his monitor back around. "Bring. Him. In."

Nick and Judy snapped sharp salutes and were off like a shot.

...

Jiro sipped his Kombucha with mixed irritation and smug satisfaction. He watched the stats climb and comments fly in over his latest photographic wonder. The instant gratification was not nearly as satisfying as a paycheck, of course, but at least that blasted rag would feel the sting of missing out on all this publicity. The warmth of spite would peter out eventually, but for now it certainly went well with his drink.

"This seat taken?"

A snarl was just starting to wrinkle his nose as he looked up over his laptop at whoever it was that voice belonged to. He was met with the stony-eyed glares of Zootopia's two most famous officers.

And their badges, of course.

He schooled his features from years of practice and gestured to the open seats. "Not at all." These two weren't the first cops to try and strong-arm him, though they were certainly the least threatening. Seriously, you're no snarling tiger or trumpeting elephant.

The fox flashed a sales-mammal smile. "Thanks a bunch, Bug. You don't mind if I call you Bug, do you?" Jiro's left eye twitched slightly. "You know, on account of you being such a shutterbug."

At that, the rabbit began laying out prints of his work; specifically, the last two 'art' pieces. "We'd be very interested in knowing how it is you knew about these two events before we did, Jiro." She all but spat his name.

Jiro sneered at the two, having neither the time nor patience to put up with their ham-fisted 'tough-cop' act; he had places to go and photos to sell. "I haven't done anything wrong, so you can take your Jack-Rabbit-Boot thuggery and-"

Judy's ears vibrated in barely contained rage. "Two mammals were mutilated, displayed like nightmarish scarecrows for all the city to see, and you knew ahead of time."

"They were already dead; what was my phone call going to do for them, anyway?" He scoffed and picked up his drink. "Let some other good Samaritan take care of that. I take care of me."

"And now we're going to take care of you, as well." Nick's smile was anything but friendly as he put a paw over the drink's mouth. "18 ASC Section 4 states that Misprision of a Felony Crime is, itself, a Felony. You were set up to take pictures of not one, but two such crimes, before the police arrived, even before the 911 calls were made. You knew about both scenes before anyone else and failed to report those crimes."

The growing murmur from the chic internet cafe suddenly hushed as Judy stood behind Jiro and pulled his arms behind him. "You are under arrest for Misprision of a Felony Crime."

"Two counts, to be precise," Nick cheerily chimed in around the tell-tale clicking of the cuffs.

Judy continued as if her partner hadn't spoken. "You have the right to remain silent..."

...

Nick and Judy led Jiro and his lawyer to the interview room. The raccoon-dog was brought up short when Chief Bogo and the City DA were standing at the door.

"Thank you, officers. I'll take it from here," the Chief said with a significant look at the two detectives. "If you would, CSI Scutto has requested you down in Cyber-forensics. Come see me after." They nodded and stepped away without any delay. "Now Mr. Jiro, Mr. Merah, if you would step this way, please."

Jiro and Merah hadn't even sat down when DA Brunnea went straight for the throat. "Three years in Federal prison plus $250,000 for each charge of Misprision." She didn't bat an eye as Jiro and his lawyer immediately started trying to talk over her. "You can't expect the city to levy anything less than the full weight of the charges filed. Unless you want us to also file charges of Conspiracy in what is now three mamicides, you'll start cooperating now."

Chief Bogo began laying out both Jiro's photos, as well as the time-stamped Jam-Cam still of Jiro getting set up. "We have you at these places, preparing to take photographs of staged crime scenes before city emergency responders were notified. This indicates foreknowledge. Either you did this and came back for a very specific light scheme for these photos, or the mammals responsible gave you a place and time to be. Which is it?"

Mr. Merah cleared his throat and laid a paw on his client's shoulder, his striped tail flashing in agitation. Somehow, the red panda's fur seemed even more flushed. "Madam DA, Chief, my client is more than willing to cooperate in exchange for an immunity-"

"I do not have time for jokes, so just don't," the dour hyena said, locking eyes with Mr. Merah.

The red panda fluffed then calmed. "I'm not joking, Madam, but I have to think you might be. The only evidence against Mr. Jiro for Conspiracy is his presence in the general region of these crimes."

Bogo snorted a jet-like blast from his nose. "Your client had foreknowledge of both events, and showed distinct sociopathy in both cases by not only failing to notify the authorities, but by profiting off of them as well."

DA Brunnea shifted her humorless gaze back onto the raccoon-dog. "I can easily sell the sociopathic escalation angle to a jury, especially for a mammal disowned and banished from his own family and homeland." Jiro flinched and looked away. The hyena delicately licked her lips, then looked at the lawyer. "Your client will be charged with two counts of Misprision instead of three counts of Conspiracy to Commit Murder and Obstruction of Justice. I'm willing to offer him six years with the chance of parole as opposed to back-to-back life sentences."

Mr. Merah held up his paws and looked at his client to keep him silent. "My client will cop to both counts of Misprision and assist the police and the DA's office for a reduction in sentence: fines of $100,000. That seems quite reasonable, given the-"

Both mammals gaped as the DA abruptly stood up. "I see you have no desire to treat this seriously, so I guess that we're done here." She headed to the door. "You should both prepare yourselves. I intend to file murder charges before the end of the day."

"Wait!" Mr. Merah tried to restrain his client as he desperately reached out for the DA. She stopped and looked over her shoulder expectantly. He slumped his shoulders. "I'll talk."

...

"I wish we could have stayed to watch Chief pin that Bug to the wall," Nick said as he and Judy entered the elevator to descend down to The Pit. "Maybe he'll let us rent the recording to, ahh… review with a bag of popcorn."

Judy shivered. "No thanks. I'd feel cleaner after front row at a Gallagher show than I do after five minutes with that creep."

Nick snickered. "I think the interview room will need a good cleaning after Bogo and the DA are through with him."

The elevator dinged and released them into the dimly lit and suspiciously quiet sub-basement level. They began the short walk to Abby's lab. "Well, with any luck maybe they can wring another lead out of him so we can actually-"

"UGH!"

Nick and Judy turned the corner just in time to see Abby slam her fists down on the desk and push her chair away in disgust. "The nerve of some mammals!"

It didn't seem that they would need to bribe or otherwise cajole the doe (today sporting a thick chain necklace, rosy pink shirt and tulle skirt set, dark leggings, and her big black stomping boots threaded with ribbon the same shade as her shirt) into fast tracking their case; the photos from the forensic team of that morning's victim were already pulled up on her computer monitor.

"Hey Abbs." The doe spun around at Nick's voice, her earrings chiming as she did so. "I see you got the news." He nodded at the picture.

Abby stared for a moment then snorted. "Me and the rest of the internet. This," she spun back around and gestured at the screen, "is just... just-"

"Grotesque." Judy's eyes were locked on the face of the deceased deer.

"More than that; it's a complete mockery!" Abby huffed. "Phoenix Rising is about being reborn from the ashes of your old life, not... Gorn!"

Judy scoffed. "Personally, I can't imagine the original could be much better if it inspired this."

Abby froze and her ears spasmed. "Really? You think that is a reflection of the artist's intent?"

Nick had a sinking feeling as he saw Judy cross her arms and stare defiantly at the screen. "What, you don't? I mean between the sheer vulgar violence that you recognized right off and the demonic scribbling carved into this poor mammal-"

"Excuse me, that is a language." Both Abby's ears and nose were twitching with righteous fervor. "Old Volish, to be exact. It has a rich history and has almost been completely wiped out by Common." She spun in her chair and jabbed an accusing paw at Judy. "Thimbul's pieces always contain some Old Volish in them to keep the language alive; to keep his heritage alive! It's no one's place to decide whether it's 'appropriate' or not."

"Whoa whoa, wait, time out here!" Nick crossed his paws in front of him as the two rabbits turned their still incendiary glares his way. He pointed at the blown up picture on the screen with the writing that they were hotly debating. "You mean that actually says something?"

"Of course it does," Abby huffed.

Nick gestured at the screen more. "And what does it say?"

Abby gave a rough and grating exhale, obviously displeased to have her debate interrupted. Still, she turned to type a few especially hard keystrokes on her keyboard. "As with any translation, the Common meaning doesn't precisely capture all the nuance of the original language; however, most native speakers agree to the following meaning of the verse here:

"Bear witness:

Choose not to be the candle,

Consumed by the Flame to guide others.

Alight from within, from the brilliance

Of your own destruction

And be reborn."

Judy stared for a moment, split between her personal views, how they clearly clashed with those of a coworker, and the poignancy of the prose. "If it's such a positive message, then why all the macabre?"

"Because Volish mammals had it real rough." Nick rested a paw on her shoulder. "Remember they were everyone's prey. Back in the day, you were either Big ruthless, or you were dead."

The grey rabbit looked sideways at her partner. "Ruthless? I can see it in Mr. Big, but come on. Lemming Brothers is a financial powerhouse and they don't-"

"You honestly think they came into that kind of wealth and power without getting their paws bloody?" Abby was still typing. "Half of my job is taken up by tracing hush money coming out of LB."

"Hmm…" Judy put a thoughtful finger to her chin, her foot tapping the floor. Her ears shot up suddenly as she turned her eyes again in Abby's direction. Nick was sure that the tangent had run out and they were about to start back up again when Judy asked, "Did you say that this guy's paintings always have some of this, ahh… what was it called again?"

"Volish," Abby offered with just a hint of leftover peevishness.

"Right, Volish." She spread her arms out. "Where was it in the last piece, then?"

"The sword blade." A few mouse clicks and Abby switched to the photos of the previous murder. "Thimbul's first couple of paintings only had the title hidden in Old Volish somewhere. Phoenix Rising was the first one where he injected a full message within the picture." She quirked a smile. "There was a bit of a row over accusations it was a forgery because of that."

She zoomed in on the picture of the mouse and the blade gripped between his paws. After exceptional magnification and enhancement, they could just make out scratches in the blade's edge, in the same kind of strange alphabet that they saw gouged into the lower half of the body from that morning.

Judy pulled out a notebook and scribbled. "We can check with Ducky on whether they still have the blade or if it's been sent to evidence."

"Sure seems like someone is using these paintings as a Paint-by-Number for murder," Nick commented over Judy's shoulder. "And I honestly don't see the Big family being any of those someones, even to send a particularly potent message. Too flashy, too messy, too conspicuous. He'd never pose these things on properties that he owns, either."

"Never pass pellets where you lay your head," Judy murmured as she closed her notebook up again. "Definitely not his style, I agree. Given the insane detail in these replicas, it really does seem more that someone with intimate knowledge of this artist and his work is bringing them off the canvas and onto the streets… but why?"

A smirk pulled at Nick's muzzle. "Well, maybe let's start by asking the mammal himself. I happen to remember his work is being hosted in a gallery in Vol Gardens."

Abby looked at him skeptically. "You 'happen to remember'?"

His smirk fell. "Yeah, okay. It got a mention in an article by noted art critic Jamal Shabal." He looked uneasily at the picture on the screen. "It wasn't the nicest of writeups."

"I'd call that a possible link between him and one of the victims." Judy turned and started toward the door. "Let's bring this to the Chief and see if he got anything out of Jiro."

She was already out the door before a belated, "Thanks, Abbs!" slipped through the crack as it closed. Nick plastered an apologetic smile over his grimace and patted Abby on the shoulder.

"Great work as usual, darlin'," he said, and also turned to follow after his partner. When she huffed, he added, "And don't take this all personally. This case isn't exactly painting anyone in the best light."

...

Judy jammed her finger into the button holding the elevator doors open for the second time as Nick finally emerged to saunter toward her. At last they had their first major clue about this case, and he was moseying down the hall like he wasn't in a hurry to bring this to Bogo.

She huffed as he stepped in. "About time, Mr. '100-yard Saunter'."

An equally hard jab at the button to close the doors up and begin their blessed ascent up from The Pit. They were moments from the first floor when Nick flipped up the Emergency panel and slammed the red 'all stop' switch. The elevator ground to a halt and went to emergency lighting only as he squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. Judy glared up in his general direction as her eyes adjusted to the reduced light.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" she demanded and tried to reach past him to start the elevator back up again, but he parried her attempt with a backpaw.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. I know you don't like Thimbul's art, but attacking it is uncalled for; much less getting into an argument with a coworker for liking it."

Judy reeled back and her ears sank. "I didn't… it's not about liking it. It's like… as if it's more important than the fact that someone died."

"Not more important. Also important. To her." He closed his eyes and sighed. He leaned against the wall and spoke aside. "Look, I get that you're frustrated this second case popped up. I get that the lack of progress is disheartening. I get all that. But when we catch these guys-when, Carrots-we're still going to need to work with Abby. Do you really think it's a good idea to be burning your bridges behind you as you speed off toward the next lead?"

Judy turned her head and stared at the door. "She wouldn't be the first mammal at the Precinct I don't work well with. Besides-" She faced Nick again. "-just because she likes his art for whatever reason isn't reason enough to give him a free pass.

"If a radio jockey jokes about going into a club and hurting mammals because they have money, and somebody does it, then they're responsible for what they say." She looked down at the floor. "If someone tells the media that 'predators might be reverting to their savage ways', that it's biological, then that mammal is responsible for what others do in her name."

She looked back up into his eyes. "I'm not going to suggest anything absurd like charging him, but if this Thimbul character is making art that someone else is using as inspiration for murder, then he does hold some of the blame."

"Seriously? Drawing parallels between a psychotic murderer and a fresh from the academy officer caught up in the political machinations of Lionheart and Bellwether isn't doing you any favors."

Judy crossed her arms and stood firm. She'd be a hypocrite not to consider herself culpable for the part she once played in someone else's game; there was plenty of room on this hook for company. Nick's face softened, an expression of concern and understanding that morphed into one of contemplation before...

"When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide

Where I stop and I turn and I go for a ride

Till I get to the bottom and I see you again!"

Judy was taken aback when he started to sing. "Uh, Nick?"

"Do you know what song that is?"

She frowned and nodded her head. "It's 'Helter Skelter' by the Beagles."

Nick smiled. "Middle of the road for them as far as popularity goes, though it arguably did invent heavy metal. Do you know which mammal was also impressed by it, even inspired by it?"

She closed her eyes and nodded again. "Charles Mooson."

"Got it in one, Fluff. For years after the 'Mooson Family Murders', people were claiming the Beagles were responsible for a crazy person twisting their art and using it to justify murder."

Judy huffed. "That's different."

"Is it?"

"The Beagles weren't peddling offensive imagery you can't show in polite company out to the public. You can turn off a song. You can't unsee these things."

"It isn't up to the artist to censor their art for the people who experience it. That responsibility lies solely on the public. We are only responsible for our own actions. Condemning Thimbul for another's crimes isn't Law, it isn't Justice, and it certainly isn't 'making the world a better place'." Nick extended his paws towards her. "If we begin telling people they can't express themselves because it might offend someone else, no matter how objectionable we may find that expression, it starts a precedent for the repression of all expression. That is illegal."

The irritation fizzled on Judy's face as Nick arched his eyebrows in playful challenge. She gave a resigned laugh. "God, you can be so obnoxious sometimes."

"Yes, how dare I combat big bunny emotions with annoying logic?" Nick's expression softened back to his typical self-satisfied smile. "Lock me up and throw away the key."

"I'm tempted to." She reached again for the emergency switch and this time Nick let her. The lights shined back to full brightness and the elevator gears began turning again to ferry them up to the main floor of the station.

They moved through the halls of the ZPD with a purposeful stride to their desks to assemble together the narrative that would support the direction that they wanted to take their investigation. The Chief wasn't one to accept lip service; anything that they could provide to back up their reasoning was always better to give right up front rather than fighting uphill against Bogo's arguments later.

"Two murders happen within two weeks of each other, both with specific details linking them to artwork created by an artist who also happens to have his art on display locally," Judy began summarizing as they entered their shared workspace and gathered their files together. "The first victim is the significant other of an art critic who also happened to make unkind remarks regarding said works."

Nick unlocked his computer and opened up the casefile database. "We might check with the records of those two locations; see if there was ever a request to have Thimbul's work displayed there. This seems too elaborate for the staged scenes to have been chosen at random."

Judy quirked her ears. "An attack on the locations themselves? Seems kind of passive-aggressive to me. The bad press/notoriety is likely to draw more of a crowd then snubbing the artist would." She shrugged. "We'll put it on the punch-list."

Nick subconsciously rubbed his shoulder. "I really wish you'd call it something else."

Judy smirked and snapped her file closed. "You done whining over there so we can get to the Chief's office?" She rolled her eyes at his particularly melodramatic follow-up whine, followed by the sound of Nick's office chair being pushed back.

Documentation in paw, the two headed up to the Fourth Floor Mezzanine and Chief Bogo's office. They opened the door at the Chief's bellowing invitation, and were unpleasantly surprised to find that they weren't the only ones in attendance for this impromptu meeting.

Sergeant Asstor gave the detectives a sideways stink-eye as they came alongside him and stood at attention in the middle of Bogo's office.

"Good, I don't have to call for you two. I hate having to repeat myself. At ease." All three mammals relaxed and refocused on the Chief. "This afternoon's interview with the freelance photographer who snapped those unauthorized crime scene photos didn't net me nearly as much information as I was hoping for. What we do know now is that he received phone calls from someone telling him about the scenes approximately one day before each event, and another one hour before he arrived on scene to tell him the location. Cybercrime is backtracing the number, but I'm not optimistic it will lead to a name. The one quote I took from him was his contact's assurance that he had 'a lot of work coming to him.'" Bogo took his glasses off and let them drop on his desk. "This morning's photo-op wasn't going to be the last."

Though the unspoken worry had been hanging in the air since the call had come in about the second murder, having it confirmed so concretely gave all of them pause.

The African ass rolled his shoulders and stood just a little straighter, "There is a demonstrable link between both locations, the first victim, and the Big Cartel. I am confident that it's no coincidence."

"And what about the second victim?" Judy asked, earning a glare from the Sergeant.

"We haven't vetted Preston Peary's background fully yet, but I'm certain there'll be a connection there."

Nick tsked and shook his head, diverting Asstor's ire towards him. "Everyone in Tundratown has some kind of link to the Bigs, so that's just playing 'Six Degrees of Separation'. No, we meant Daniel Fields, the mouse who was entombed inside Ms. Carcallie. What's the link to him?"

Asstor's ears flagged in obvious uncertainty briefly before again shooting back up in annoyance. He swung his eyes down to the copy of the casefile notes in his hooves, scanning intensely until his face broke into a long and wide smile.

"He was hopped up on enough drugs to down Officer Trunkaby. I'd venture that his dealer was one of the cartel's middle-mammals in Little Rodentia."

"Fitting the evidence to your theory rather than the other way around?" Judy clicked her tongue. "Major Friedkin would be so disappointed."

"Enough." Judy shrank slightly and focused her attention back forward at Chief Bogo, who was looking less than amused at the snark being shuttled back and forth between the three mammals in front of him. "To give such biting commentary surely means you two have an alternative theory to pitch. Let's hear it."

Judy glanced at Nick, who nodded. She took a deep breath. "We will acknowledge the apparent ties to the Big Cartel present in these crimes, though they don't seem to be the strongest link between the murders that we've determined."

Nick continued. "The common thread is how the victims are displayed." He set out the crime scene photos as well as copies of the Thimbul works. "In both cases, the victims have been displayed as near exact replicas of paintings by John Thimbul, a Zootopian artist. The first victim, Ms. Carcallie, was affianced to Jamal Shabal, a notable art critic who posted a less than flattering piece on Thimbul's work."

Judy picked up from there. "As Sergeant Asstor pointed out," she nodded to the scowling mammal beside them, "we've only just received an official ID on our third victim, and we are still waiting on information on Mr. Fields. Still, the choice of staging locations, two prominent public art displays, along with the particular demographic details of the victims themselves, leads us to believe the killer is very familiar with Mr. Thimbul's work; enough so we believe there may be a direct connection between the artist and killer."

Nick finished confidently, "We're looking to move forward with investigating this local artist and his artwork. Given that this mammal or mammals are looking to carry out more killings, it seems likely any future ones would follow the pattern we've confirmed."

Sergeant Asstor scoffed while looking at the two diminutive officers. His mini-outburst was met by a much louder burst of air. He turned to find the Chief staring levelly at him while drumming his hooves on his desk. Bogo maintained his subtle glare until Asstor dipped his head down. He turned his head to take all three in. "Both theories have merit, but they both have holes too."

Nick and Judy knew there were flaws with their theory; they were also accustomed to Bogo's seeming inability to be pleased, so they simply nodded. Asstor was not so accustomed, and bristled but wisely remained quiet.

"Since both plans are equally plausible, I feel they should both be pursued. Sergeant Asstor," the equid snapped to attention, "You'll work the Big angle. Coordinate with major Crimes and Gangland so you know what you're getting into and don't trip up any of their operations." The African ass snapped a salute. He spared time for one last sneer at Nick and Judy before departing.

Once the door was shut, Bogo focused on his two smallest officers. "Obviously, you two will focus on this art angle." He heaved a heavy sigh as his eyes wandered to the photos that Nick had set on his desk earlier. "Given all the hallmarks of mob warfare, I wouldn't be surprised if Asstor's direction pans out in the end. And I would almost prefer it, to be honest."

The Chief gathered the pictures together in a stack, leveled it against his desktop, and offered them back to Nick.

"With all due respect, sir," Judy said evenly as her partner stepped back, "we would be remiss to ignore certain other hallmarks present, wouldn't you agree?"

"Completely. And I have no doubt that you'll pursue this angle with the same diligence that you always do; however-" He gave a sad kind of smile. "-in this particular case I would prefer that the outcome is that we are dealing with monsters that we already know rather than the alternative."

The two officers saluted, gathered their files, and headed out. They had a killer to find, before anyone else suffered for their art.