Bogo turned into the case room, opening his muzzle to speak, only to freeze on the spot, a throb growing in his temple as he stared numbly at Nick standing naked on a chair, the fox's fur painted warm pink, rose red, and pink-tinged white. Kneeling in front of him was a tiger with a large make-up kit, using a brush to apply a few finishing touches.

"Wilde," the buffalo finally ground out, "why are you naked...and why is that tiger painting your...everything?"

"Disguise, sir," Nick answered, respectfully.

"Surely he only needs to paint the bits that'll be showing?"

"It's the Oasis, sir. It'll all be showing."

One of Bogo's eyes twitched. "All right, but...why so...colourful?"

"Well, sir, in part because I lost a bet – fortunately, I like pink – and in part because I want to provoke a reaction, get their mask to drop, even just a little, see who we're really dealing with. I accept there are risks, sir, serious ones, ones the public location and an appearance everyone is going to remember might not offset, which is why we have a backup extraction plan in place." His expression turned wry. "And if I disappear regardless, at least you'll have more evidence to work with."

Bogo stared hard at the fox, hooves clenched and snout twitching, for a long time, then finally nodded, stiffly. "Against my better judgement, I'll permit it. Take great care, Wilde, and get results." Before Nick could respond he turned on his heel, and moved to loom over Judy, who was at her terminal, reading through a record.

"Fangmeyer found a match," she reported. "Lucas Spring. Long list of mostly small stuff, from breaking and entering to car theft, but nothing violent. Is he familiar to you, sir?"

Bogo nodded. "A twitchy little grifter whose ambitions far outstrip his abilities. He's joined four gangs that I know of, and been dropped from every one because when it comes time for grittier things, he can't ever find the stomach for it. It's highly unlikely that's changed."

"Then the obvious explanation would be he just secured Brindle, and someone else did the killing," Nick reasoned, "but that doesn't account for the presumably fake burial site."

"Definitely fake," Bogo replied. "Wolford's confirmed the cadaverine's synthetic. A 'cheap and nasty' one."

"Have you come across that kind of thing before, sir?" Judy asked, her brows wrinkling in thought.

Bogo nodded. "Twice. One was someone's fumbled attempt at faking their own death in a life insurance fraud. The other was a killer trying to fool the police, keep the real location of their victim secret."

Judy cogitated for a couple of seconds, then sat up straighter. "I have a theory, sir, and it stems from one question: who's meant to be fooled by this fake? It can't be us, so it surely has to be..."

"Silverson," Nick realised, ears perking, "and/or the underling charged with sorting out Brindle. And the obvious reason why is..."

"Spring didn't kill Brindle."

Bogo's head tilted. "I'm listening."

Judy took a moment to gather her thoughts. "So, Lucas Spring works for Gabriel Silverson, as part of the gun-running operation. Learning of Silverson's desire to be rid of Brindle, and seeing a chance to rise in the organisation, he offers to do the job. It's possible he actually intended to do it, until his stomach failed him again. It's also possible he tried to be clever, by pretending to kill Brindle.

"Either way, Brindle ended up a prisoner, maybe in an old hideout of one of Spring's prior gangs, and Spring was left having to maintain a lie to one of the most dangerous mammals in the city. When Cody broke out, Spring panicked, fearing Silverson would want to double-check he was covered regarding Brindle, and faked the burial site."

Bogo mulled it over, then nodded slowly. "A solid hypothesis. Covers almost everything we know, or believe we know. And a living witness would be invaluable. I'll see if I can have a watch put on Spring, but as wary as he is, it won't be easy. Any other updates?"

"Fangmeyer's sent a brief report," Judy relayed. "Settling in went very smoothly, and she's already seen Silverson, surveying the work on the window in the company of a red panda."

"His personal assistant, I believe," Bogo supplied.

"Unfortunately, they were gone before she got her camera set up, so no footage or photos. Silverson went back into the clinic, the assistant drove off in a Purrcedes registered to Silverson."

"Must be some assistant, getting to drive the boss' car," Nick mused.

"It's another piece," Bogo turned to walk out. "Let me know how your meeting goes, Wilde."

"Every gruesome detail, sir."

Judy stared at the fox, head lilting. "You're onto something."

"Just wondering at the dark whims of fate. A red panda."

"It is a bit of an uncomfortable coincidence. You ready?"

Nick looked to Ral, who nodded, stood and moved back, then the fox dropped smoothly from the chair and strolled over to the rabbit with a paw on his hip and a slight sway in his haunches, his tail waving gently behind him. "Arthur Rosebrush is good to go, honey."

Judy didn't know whether to laugh or groan. "Try not to go quite that strong with the contact, okay? I want you back in one piece, not least as I have to get a photo of you like that."

"I'll be careful," Nick promised, brushing her cheek. He drew a breath and squared his shoulders. "Let's do this."