It felt like the first honest break they'd had since this case began, and the simultaneous sigh of relief that Nick and Judy shared after they hung up their phones for the last time made that beyond apparent.
"I spoke directly with all of mine," Judy reported, spinning her chair around to face Nick as he did the same.
"Same." He tossed the notepad down on his desk, then knocked on it. "I don't want to jinx it-"
"Then don't." Judy also knocked vigorously on her desk. "They all live within spitting distance of regular patrol routes. We can easily divert them to extend their circuits to do spot checks of the residences, and daily follow ups. If they keep to their homes for the time being, we might even get lucky and catch this monster in the act. He's been bold from the start. Maybe that boldness will make him trip up now that we've got our radar trained on who he might be after."
Nick huffed and leaned back in his chair. "It'd be a nice 'smoking gun', but I'd be happier if more of our evidence was 'painting' a clearer picture of who they are. We've got so much diverse information, but no context: particulate from somewhere in the Marshlands, a utility truck, and ultra-high-end paints. The cleaning service Dolly uses has access to all of that, but Asstor and his mammals cleared all of their trucks: none of the tires have the patch you noticed, and all have wear on the tires. Everyone else on our list with means is either a victim or a target."
He scratched the fur between his ears while growling. He was interrupted by a ping on his and Judy's computers. They opened their emails to see the message from Abby Scutto.
"Tracedetectionbackonthebladeopenattachmentokaygottagocoffeewithafriendkthnxbai"
Judy chuckled at the jumbled message. "How can she possibly write as incoherently as she talks?"
Nick blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Was that even Common? Did the spacebar take a hiatus on her, or did it just throw in the towel?"
She shook her head and opened the attachment that had been alluded to somewhere in the middle of the mishmashed email. A standard form template popped up on the screen, autofilled with a list of chemical symbols and percentages, as well as a summary synopsis at the end to summarize the findings.
"Chemical composition consistent with oil-based paint and ochre pigment." There were notes indicating the traces had been embedded in the factory logo on the blade.
"Well, can't say that's helpful at all," Judy said dismally. "More paint. Big surprise."
"Wait, though." Nick turned and rummaged through one of the many folders on his desk, and then turned back with a packet of pages stapled together. He flipped a few of the pages back and forward. "The initial macro analysis of the for all three bodies had no paint on any of the props. The only paint used was mixed into that clear resin lacquer for Mr. Peary. The rest of the time the Artiste used only blood as the medium of choice. Other effects were made with deformation and physical duress to the bodies… gouging, disfiguring, dismembering…"
"Okay, okay, I got it." Judy grimaced, but almost immediately her expression cleared into one of excitement. "This is a mistake. Question is, what can we glean from this mistake?"
"Well," Nick got out of his chair and began pacing their small work area, "the report indicates the paint is isolated to the blade, so it was likely on it before. That means it was in an area with those paints, possibly used with them." He picked up a picture of the implement. "It's kind of a strange blade: more like a spatula really."
Judy brought up a digital copy of the report. "Forensics calls it a 'Palette Knife'. It's..." she trailed off slightly, "it's used in artistic painting."
Nick frowned slightly. "Bring up a studio image of Triumph." Judy did, and they both looked at the central figure. "That just looks like a generic knife like you'd get at a hardware store. Kind of an odd divergence."
Judy's ears flagged back and forth from attentive to worried. "Unless the Artiste used what they had on paw, rather than running off for supplies for the sake of accuracy."
Nick combed his paws roughly through his fur at the back of his neck. "Artists abound on our list of possible victims, but on our list of possible suspects…"
"That's a bit more limited." Judy gritted her teeth. Had she had the proverbial wool pulled over her eyes again? She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "It's circumstantial at best."
"Well, it could be simple enough to rule John out." He sat back down and picked up the desk phone. "You have the number for the studio handy, right?"
...
"Again, let me extend my sincerest apolo-"
-CLICK-
"-gies."
Dolly looked at her phone after the abrupt end of her twelfth and final cancelation call that night, her twelfth refund that night. It was frustrating sometimes, being so small; she couldn't even really indulge in throwing her phone across the room, since the Blu-Fang device was too durable to really break.
No, Dolly; focus. They aren't to blame for this. She is! Dolly's incisors creaked as she grit her jaw at the thought of Judy Hopps while she absently paced John's work-space. He had nearly been in the perfect mindset! Just one little stress nudge and he'd have fallen into one of his creative fueges. Days of painting, maybe even weeks. Three, maybe even four new works. Now… now he'd gone and abandoned his latest. A half-finished painting may as well not even exist at all.
-grrr- "Now, instead of creating the next Great Work, he's off gallivanting with that Art-hating, artist-destroying Country-Bumpkin cop!"
She very much wanted to destroy something at that moment, but the current best tool for that task, John's scraping knife, had already been elevated to a higher purpose. The only other option in house was flammable, and she'd never risk John's work like that.
She glanced over at his now stillborn piece. Even in its unfinished state, she could feel the pathos; the crushing sense of everything closing in and looming over. It was a sentiment that was lost on the larger mammals; however, it all but shouted at rodents. For a moment, she almost saw Judy Hopps experiencing that same crushing sense.
A smile teased at her tiny muzzle. "Yes, yes! That would be the perfect catalyst: eliminate the meddler and put John back on track!" Dolly froze in place for a moment while looking around her studio. "But which one? Her eyes kept drifting back to the unfinished piece, her mind filling in the blanks on the canvas, sharpening the lines, darkening the color palette...
And at its focus, one terrified rabbit, overwhelmed by an uncaring world.
Briiiiiing! Briiiiiing! Briiiiiing!
It was after hours and Dolly was under no obligation to answer that, especially not in the middle of what was turning into a maelstrom of creative reverie, but she hurried out to the front desk anyway just to see who was calling. Her heart sped up a little in excitement as the Caller ID displayed Zootopia Policy Dept across the screen.
How delightfully serendipitous, was the thought that flitted across her mind as she donned a charming smile and picked up the receiver.
"Maus Haus Gallery, this is Dolly Grainger, how may I help you?" Her voice was pure saccharine.
Miss Grainger, this is Detective Nicholas Wilde.
Dolly felt her mood flag slightly, but she kept her ears and her tone high. But history has taught the city: where one is, the other is sure to be close by.
"Good afternoon, Detective. What can I do for you today?"
We've had a break in the case, and wanted to come by to confirm some details.
For a brief instant a lightning bolt of panic shot through her, and her mouth turned dry. A break? What kind of break? She'd been exceedingly careful, meticulous in her execution. What kind of break could they possibly have?
Her heart slowed and she licked her lips. A false one, of course. If they suspected her even slightly then why would he even admit that to her, give her an inclination to run or to hide? No, no… this was fine. This was better than fine. This was the perfect opportunity for something magnificent.
"I'd be happy to afford you any assistance I can, of course."
Would you be available for myself and Detective Hopps to swing by the studio later today?
Now her smile was uncontainable. "Absolutely. Anything for the ZPD. My evening is wide open. What time might I expect you?"
How about in one hour? The vulpine's voice held an edge of excitement.
And you should be excited! You are about to become something truly wondrous.
He couldn't see her curtsy but she was compelled to do so anyway. "I have you penciled in! I look forward to your arrival."
The detective offered an abbreviated farewell and Dolly quickly hung up the receiver. Her fingers itched, and she wrapped her arms around herself to contain the anticipation that threatened to burst from her chest. So much to do, so much to do to be ready. An hour wasn't very long at all, and yet an eternity to wait for this, what was surely the rough sketch of her most stunning work, possibly even her own personal masterpiece.
She got started immediately.