1:00 p.m.
Tom Nook bent over his tiny desk, carefully filling out an inventory sheet. He found it helped to immerse himself in his work, and since he'd left Tortimer's he'd already cleaned behind the register, printed and attatched new, harder to read price tags, and had gone through half a bottle of Windex trying in vain to rid his front windows of the lingering grease and grime they seemed to attract, like magnets. Grease so thick that the sun only barely filtered through, and in the winters when the light was scarse he often had to turn on the emergency overheads just to claim some sort of weak visibility.
He signed his name with a flourish on the bottom line and folded the paper neatly in half, placing it in an envelope and throwing it carelessly in his overflowing Out box. With that finished, he clasped his hands together, lowering his head to rest on the desk's scratched surface, and began to sob.
What the fuck had he gotten himself into? He'd known about Joan's funny turnips for years. She would tell him every week that he should think about giving it a shot, make some real money for a change. For years he'd purchased only real turnips, until Mink approached him about two weeks after he'd arrived on the train from Calistan. Nook had set him up at his then tiny house, so he said he wanted to return the favor. With Mink involved, he'd lose a cut of the profits but gain a scapegoat. Mink had a bit of a troubled past, a few run-ins with the law back in Calistan and, before that, on the other coast in a small town called Coral Sky. If they were ever found out, he could always make himself out to be the unwilling victim, time and time again threatened with death and the death of his loved ones if he didn't comply with the human madman's ludicris demands. But things had fallen apart with an alarming speed. Sven and Mink were dead, and, come Sunday, he knew for sure Joan wouldn't turn up.
"Turnip," he said, sighing. He realized there was a very real possibility he wouldn't live to see Sunday.
Behind him, in the doorway, Pinky stood, watching him intently. She watched as he wept silently into his hands, as he shook his head from side to side and mouthed wordless pleas. When he began to violently slam his head on the table she cleared her throat.
She might as well have fired a gun. Nook shrieked and dove under the desk, babbling incoherently and trembling in fear.
"Relax, Nook, it's Pinky. We spoke yesterday?"
He was quiet for a moment, and then he shakily crawled out from under the desk, "O-of course. My apologies, Miss, but you gave me quite a start."
"Who did you think I was?"
He gulped, "Please, I must ask you to leave at once. The shop is closed for the day."
"Mind if I have a little talk with you first? Why don't you sit down?" She herself had carelessly swept the stacks of old bills and letters off the crippled green chair by the doorway and had sat, daintily crossing her legs.
Nook remained standing for a moment, seemingly weighing his options. Pinky did not take her eyes off him, and she nodded when he finally sat back down.
"Mr. Nook, I'm skirt around all the bullshit, pardon my French. I think we both know why I'm here."
He said nothing, but looked quickly away.
"You have a very beautiful wife, Mr. Nook. And I saw those kids of yours earlier, fishing down by the pond. Nice family, and a successful business. You've got a lot to lose here if you don't cooperate."
He remained silent, and she continued, "I'm going to make you a very generous offer, and I'm only going to make it once. I'm offering you total immunity. I've already cleared it with the state. In exchange, you give me a written and taped confession. You tell us everything, and then you're free to go. If you feel your life will be in danger, we can offer you and your family our witness prtection program. The choice is yours." She spoke in short, clipped sentences, sitting back when she'd finished.
Finally, after about five minutes of heavy silence, he said in a low voice, "And what if I refuse?"
"Then I'm going to arrest you. Now, as in right here in this room. And you'll go to jail for a very long time."
"Then I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"
She smiled.
3:16 p.m.
He lifted the mug with both hands and brought it slowly to his lips. His hands were shaking so badly the coffee sloshed about, and he felt a slight singe on the end of his nose.
At the other end of the table, Detective David Hunter was watching him, one hand resting on the PLAY button of the clunky tape recorder. To Nook's right was a large mirror, and behind that mirror Pinky sat watching Rusty Copper weep.
Nook took another sip, his tremors abating a bit. Pinky put her hand on Copper's shoulder and gave him a wane smile, "I know what you must be going through, Copper. When I worked for the State's Deliquent Tax division a few years ago, my immediate supervisor was busted for stealing thousands of bells from the taxpayers. She was the nicest, most professional person I'd ever met, and when I heard she'd been arrested it hit me like a train. It made me doubt myself, and cast a pall over all my years of hard work, so I know where you're coming from, I really do."
He wiped his eyes with his hands, fiercly ashamed at having wept openly, especially in front of her. He met her gaze, "Imagine how you would have felt had she been responsible for two murders, or the kidnapping of her own granddaughter just to make a quick buck. Imagine for a moment she was one of the most respected leaders in the state, with more connections than a phone company."
She rubbed his back, "You're not in this alone, Copper. You have to be strong, you have to be willing to stand up for what's right for Lemon. Those people need you because now more than ever you're the only person they can trust."
"And yet I am here," he said glumly, heaving a great sigh. They were in the bowels of the massive fortress that was the Calistan Police station. After Pinky's little discussion with Nook, she'd called the state and they had rushed a helicopter over. Copper had decided at the last minute to join them, to hear for himself. He'd left Booker in charge.
"God only knows what the mayor is thinking right now," Nook said, setting his mug down, "I'm very afraid for the people back in Lemon. He's bound to be mighty angry and not a bit scared. He's too old and stubborn."
Hunter leaned back and put his hands behind his head, "Tell me again about your little visit to Mink's house this morning. After you got back from your shop, with the chair, what happened?"
"Tortimer was in the living room, going through Mink's desk drawer. He seemed surprised to see me back so soon, and told me he was making sure there was no documents or letters that would get any of us in trouble. I offered the help him comb through the place but he didn't want to. We put the chair, it was a big heavy one I was planning to put on sale this Sunday, we put it off to the side in the living room. And then we went back to the mayor's house."
Outside, they could hear a distant rumbling, and Nook jumped a bit. According to the helicoper pilot, there was a huge storm heading to Lemon that was expected to bring a lot of rain, possibly flooding. Just what we need, Copper had thought, more rain. He turned towards Pinky, who was rooting around in her briefcase. She said, "That must have been her I saw at the Mayor's yesterday. I didn't even know who it was."
"Who?"
"Nosegay. Nook's telling the truth."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Actually yes," Pinky said, a bit too harshly, "Because tonight we're going to arrest the biggest crook Lemon has ever seen."
"He was also the best mayor we've ever had," Copper said.
"That doesn't excuse-"
"I know that!" he snapped, "Look, I'm gonna go get some fresh air, ok?"
"Stay close. We're just waiting for the backup squad car before we head back to Lemon."
He nodded and left the room. She turned her attention back to the interrogation.
"He paid back the debt amazingly quickly," Nook was saying, "which enabled us to expand a few times. I wish I could find out if he's willing it to anyone because I could really make a pretty penny on such a beautiful house."
When Hunter asked him to again describe Nosegay's involvement within the operation, Pinky stood up and stretched. Tortimer's arrest would undoubtedly please Gulliver, but what he failed to realize was the the state wasn't happy halting one illegal organization. Not when her father, Art Fowler, was the attorney-general. He wouldn't be satisfied until every last thieving one of them were behind bars, and Pinky was looking foward to being there for the takedown. She was going back to the Jasmine Island Sunday night.
Behind her, the door to the hall opened and one of the local police stuck his head through, "Miss? The backup squad just arrived. Officer Copper is waiting for you."
She nodded and followed him outside, where the rain was coming down in solid sheets. Copper stood shivering under a ridiculously tiny yellow umbrella. He hurried over to her and said, "We're taking the second car. Get in."
She brushed past him as he tried to hold the umbrella out for her. When they were both in the car, he turned to her and gave her a faint shadow of a smile, "You ready?"
She nodded, and he grasped the wheel, squinting into the torrential downpour, seeing nothing of the other squadcar except its fierce red tail lights, like a beacon in a storm on the briny sea.
Tom Nook bent over his tiny desk, carefully filling out an inventory sheet. He found it helped to immerse himself in his work, and since he'd left Tortimer's he'd already cleaned behind the register, printed and attatched new, harder to read price tags, and had gone through half a bottle of Windex trying in vain to rid his front windows of the lingering grease and grime they seemed to attract, like magnets. Grease so thick that the sun only barely filtered through, and in the winters when the light was scarse he often had to turn on the emergency overheads just to claim some sort of weak visibility.
He signed his name with a flourish on the bottom line and folded the paper neatly in half, placing it in an envelope and throwing it carelessly in his overflowing Out box. With that finished, he clasped his hands together, lowering his head to rest on the desk's scratched surface, and began to sob.
What the fuck had he gotten himself into? He'd known about Joan's funny turnips for years. She would tell him every week that he should think about giving it a shot, make some real money for a change. For years he'd purchased only real turnips, until Mink approached him about two weeks after he'd arrived on the train from Calistan. Nook had set him up at his then tiny house, so he said he wanted to return the favor. With Mink involved, he'd lose a cut of the profits but gain a scapegoat. Mink had a bit of a troubled past, a few run-ins with the law back in Calistan and, before that, on the other coast in a small town called Coral Sky. If they were ever found out, he could always make himself out to be the unwilling victim, time and time again threatened with death and the death of his loved ones if he didn't comply with the human madman's ludicris demands. But things had fallen apart with an alarming speed. Sven and Mink were dead, and, come Sunday, he knew for sure Joan wouldn't turn up.
"Turnip," he said, sighing. He realized there was a very real possibility he wouldn't live to see Sunday.
Behind him, in the doorway, Pinky stood, watching him intently. She watched as he wept silently into his hands, as he shook his head from side to side and mouthed wordless pleas. When he began to violently slam his head on the table she cleared her throat.
She might as well have fired a gun. Nook shrieked and dove under the desk, babbling incoherently and trembling in fear.
"Relax, Nook, it's Pinky. We spoke yesterday?"
He was quiet for a moment, and then he shakily crawled out from under the desk, "O-of course. My apologies, Miss, but you gave me quite a start."
"Who did you think I was?"
He gulped, "Please, I must ask you to leave at once. The shop is closed for the day."
"Mind if I have a little talk with you first? Why don't you sit down?" She herself had carelessly swept the stacks of old bills and letters off the crippled green chair by the doorway and had sat, daintily crossing her legs.
Nook remained standing for a moment, seemingly weighing his options. Pinky did not take her eyes off him, and she nodded when he finally sat back down.
"Mr. Nook, I'm skirt around all the bullshit, pardon my French. I think we both know why I'm here."
He said nothing, but looked quickly away.
"You have a very beautiful wife, Mr. Nook. And I saw those kids of yours earlier, fishing down by the pond. Nice family, and a successful business. You've got a lot to lose here if you don't cooperate."
He remained silent, and she continued, "I'm going to make you a very generous offer, and I'm only going to make it once. I'm offering you total immunity. I've already cleared it with the state. In exchange, you give me a written and taped confession. You tell us everything, and then you're free to go. If you feel your life will be in danger, we can offer you and your family our witness prtection program. The choice is yours." She spoke in short, clipped sentences, sitting back when she'd finished.
Finally, after about five minutes of heavy silence, he said in a low voice, "And what if I refuse?"
"Then I'm going to arrest you. Now, as in right here in this room. And you'll go to jail for a very long time."
"Then I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"
She smiled.
3:16 p.m.
He lifted the mug with both hands and brought it slowly to his lips. His hands were shaking so badly the coffee sloshed about, and he felt a slight singe on the end of his nose.
At the other end of the table, Detective David Hunter was watching him, one hand resting on the PLAY button of the clunky tape recorder. To Nook's right was a large mirror, and behind that mirror Pinky sat watching Rusty Copper weep.
Nook took another sip, his tremors abating a bit. Pinky put her hand on Copper's shoulder and gave him a wane smile, "I know what you must be going through, Copper. When I worked for the State's Deliquent Tax division a few years ago, my immediate supervisor was busted for stealing thousands of bells from the taxpayers. She was the nicest, most professional person I'd ever met, and when I heard she'd been arrested it hit me like a train. It made me doubt myself, and cast a pall over all my years of hard work, so I know where you're coming from, I really do."
He wiped his eyes with his hands, fiercly ashamed at having wept openly, especially in front of her. He met her gaze, "Imagine how you would have felt had she been responsible for two murders, or the kidnapping of her own granddaughter just to make a quick buck. Imagine for a moment she was one of the most respected leaders in the state, with more connections than a phone company."
She rubbed his back, "You're not in this alone, Copper. You have to be strong, you have to be willing to stand up for what's right for Lemon. Those people need you because now more than ever you're the only person they can trust."
"And yet I am here," he said glumly, heaving a great sigh. They were in the bowels of the massive fortress that was the Calistan Police station. After Pinky's little discussion with Nook, she'd called the state and they had rushed a helicopter over. Copper had decided at the last minute to join them, to hear for himself. He'd left Booker in charge.
"God only knows what the mayor is thinking right now," Nook said, setting his mug down, "I'm very afraid for the people back in Lemon. He's bound to be mighty angry and not a bit scared. He's too old and stubborn."
Hunter leaned back and put his hands behind his head, "Tell me again about your little visit to Mink's house this morning. After you got back from your shop, with the chair, what happened?"
"Tortimer was in the living room, going through Mink's desk drawer. He seemed surprised to see me back so soon, and told me he was making sure there was no documents or letters that would get any of us in trouble. I offered the help him comb through the place but he didn't want to. We put the chair, it was a big heavy one I was planning to put on sale this Sunday, we put it off to the side in the living room. And then we went back to the mayor's house."
Outside, they could hear a distant rumbling, and Nook jumped a bit. According to the helicoper pilot, there was a huge storm heading to Lemon that was expected to bring a lot of rain, possibly flooding. Just what we need, Copper had thought, more rain. He turned towards Pinky, who was rooting around in her briefcase. She said, "That must have been her I saw at the Mayor's yesterday. I didn't even know who it was."
"Who?"
"Nosegay. Nook's telling the truth."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Actually yes," Pinky said, a bit too harshly, "Because tonight we're going to arrest the biggest crook Lemon has ever seen."
"He was also the best mayor we've ever had," Copper said.
"That doesn't excuse-"
"I know that!" he snapped, "Look, I'm gonna go get some fresh air, ok?"
"Stay close. We're just waiting for the backup squad car before we head back to Lemon."
He nodded and left the room. She turned her attention back to the interrogation.
"He paid back the debt amazingly quickly," Nook was saying, "which enabled us to expand a few times. I wish I could find out if he's willing it to anyone because I could really make a pretty penny on such a beautiful house."
When Hunter asked him to again describe Nosegay's involvement within the operation, Pinky stood up and stretched. Tortimer's arrest would undoubtedly please Gulliver, but what he failed to realize was the the state wasn't happy halting one illegal organization. Not when her father, Art Fowler, was the attorney-general. He wouldn't be satisfied until every last thieving one of them were behind bars, and Pinky was looking foward to being there for the takedown. She was going back to the Jasmine Island Sunday night.
Behind her, the door to the hall opened and one of the local police stuck his head through, "Miss? The backup squad just arrived. Officer Copper is waiting for you."
She nodded and followed him outside, where the rain was coming down in solid sheets. Copper stood shivering under a ridiculously tiny yellow umbrella. He hurried over to her and said, "We're taking the second car. Get in."
She brushed past him as he tried to hold the umbrella out for her. When they were both in the car, he turned to her and gave her a faint shadow of a smile, "You ready?"
She nodded, and he grasped the wheel, squinting into the torrential downpour, seeing nothing of the other squadcar except its fierce red tail lights, like a beacon in a storm on the briny sea.
