Chapter Twelve
Sleazy Soho, Zootopia
When a body has been found — and if it is known with assurance that the crime is murder — then the case is handed expressly to the 'officials' of Zootopia's Murder Investigation Bureau. These 'officials' of the M.I.B. spend much of their time as standard officers of the ZPD, but when a murder victim is found, they will take over the investigation, regardless of the previous officers' involvement in the case, until they have thoroughly searched the scene for evidence and tell-tail signs which other officers, not trained to such a high level, might have missed.
And so, after talking shortly with Chief Bogo, officers Hopps and Wilde were dismissed from the scene, while officers H. Leopold and G. Jefferson — the former being an all-business, surly lion and the latter being a somewhat sloppier tiger of slightly inferior rank — searched the premises and read Hopps' written report on the matter so far. With Bogo saying 'he didn't care what they did' for the three or four hours, time which would take officers Leopold and Jefferson to conduct a full search of the warehouse, while Hopps and Wilde decided to follow up on a possibly interesting lead... but — because of Nick's past connections with said lead — they decided to do it on the QT.
Nick drove; Judy sat in the front passenger seat. The car pulled forwards, as slow as though it was driving through treacle, on through this dank, rough part of the city. Soho. Here, the houses were small and the people many. He continued to drive, under a sign written in bright red neon, the words: Ladylove's Bar. Lap dancing, topless attendants, poll dancing and private booths. The building was two-stories high and unpainted, its brickwork bare and crumbling. The windows were so greasy, they hardly deserved the characterization's name.
"Topless attendants?" Judy asked, one shade away from being mortified, "I didn't think that was even legal!"
"Oh, they keep their bras on," Nick reassured, then added a moment later, "well, most of them do anyway, but they all have their price."
"Their price? You mean them willing to go that far just for money?"
"Hah! This may surprise you, Hopps, but not many strippers follow their profession out of choice, most of them are just regular people with low morals, who are so broke they can't afford to do otherwise."
"Jeez, Nick; what on Earth are we doing here?"
"Well," he said, sitting back in the driver's seat, "Finn has always been attracted to the more, how to put this... sleazier places in this city. And Soho definably constitutes sleazy— you heard what he said on the phone 'I got a better income', I reckon he's got a proper— though no more respectable job. Inside a gambling den perhaps? If we could just find his van, we'll find the fox."
Nick pulled to a stop at a red light and a procession of rusting, dented and scratched cars started passing across the way. Looking to the pavement, Nick spotted a female rabbit who was not unlike Judy, in her features and body shape, but utterly different. She was slightly taller, with fur more creamy in color and a lot less well-kept. Her face was tight and mean and in place of Judy's bright amethyst eyes, her eyes where a dull shade of grey — as though all sense of hope and joy had been drained from them. And in place of Judy's uniform was a pair of 'fashionably ripped' jeans and an old white shirt of dangerously low cut. She dragged from a fat spliff, of something which obviously wasn't just tobacco, as she stood with her pawbag on the pavement. Most people would assume she was just waiting for a bus or something... Nick knew better.
The red fox spotted her client even before the rabbit-hooker did — people always had 'that walk' when doing what he was about to do. He was a clear foot taller than any rabbit he had seen before with unhealthy steroid-induced muscles and a face of scars. He wore a pair of jeans also — though these where not ripped — with a shirt, dirty grey in color, with a denim blue jacket over that. He walked with his paws deep in his pockets, glancing from side to side as he walked straight towards the hooker.
The large rabbit stopped beside her and said a few words. Nick saw her lips move as she said something back, and then she blew a smoke ring into the large rabbit's face. Glancing around him, the larger rabbit handed a twenty pound note to the female, and then they both disappeared into the black shadow of a blind alley. In five minutes, Nick knew, they would re-emerge. The male would wonder back to whatever hole he lived in, and the whore would be back on the pavement, waiting for her next client.
Nick glanced to the rabbit beside him out of the corner of his eye — glad when he realized she either missed the entire exchange, or was too innocent to understand the significance — it didn't matter which. There were some crimes that went on in the city, crimes that just couldn't be stopped, crimes that she really didn't need to know about.
The light turned green and Nick pulled away, driving past several lap-dancing bars, casinos, strip clubs, hotels of a nefarious disposition, and sex shops.
"Well," Nick said lightly, pulling a left turn, taking the car past a casino called 'The Overdraft', "lets hope the Memmle In Black find something before too long."
"Nick," said Judy, "enough with the 'Memmle in Black' already. How many times, M.I.B stands for the Murder Investigation Bureau."
"Memmle in Black, Murder Investigation Bureau, Monthly Investment Benefit: it makes no difference. If the acronym is M.I.B. then the acronym is M.I.B. — and I can associate any meaning to it I like."
They drove in silence for some seconds more. Nick drove slowly past the rows of parked cars, occasionally glancing at any vans which passed in the other direction; Judy kept an eye out — looking here and there as Nick drove — seeking for a glimpse of Finnick's van.
"Still," she said at length, her tone mild, "it was nice of them to compliment us on the detailing on our Arson Report."
"It sure was, they probably realized that we'd be better detectives then they would."
"And it was nice of you share that praise with me by telling them how much time you put into writing it."
"It takes it out of you, you know, writing out all that paperwork, making sure I've got every detail."
"And," she said, no longer hiding the edge in her voice, "it was 'nice' of you to let me fill-out said paperwork, while you threw balls of scrap-paper in the bin from twenty pieces!"
"I told you already, Hopps, I've got hyper mobility disorder in my paws; I can't write for a prolonged period of time."
"Oh yeah! What was it you told me when I said we should go for a jog under the beautiful full moon at midnight last week? 'You had a bone in your leg', was that the excuse!?"
"No, I didn't..." he said pointedly, "and I resent the implication. The only way I know how to say no to something is to make up a ridiculous excuse... anyway," he said in tones more natural, "it was my old war-wound was me trouble, that was the reason."
Judy paused for effect, knowing a beat or two of silence would have far more impact… "I bet I'd get a different reaction if I suggested we went midnight skinny-dipping."
Nick's head slowly turned to look at the rabbit, trying to figure out what she meant. His eyes widened as he figured it out... and then the car lurched forwards as Nick's foot slipped on the accelerator. His mind frozen by the images flashing in his mind, he nearly swerved into incoming traffic and only avoided hitting another driver because Judy sprang forwards and took the wheel.
Judy streaked as the car span — off the road and into a car park — wrestling with the steering wheel and the centrifugal force of the spinning car as she brought it under control. It screeched, it skidded, skittered, tipped, teetered, and then landed back on all four wheels, parallel parked between the casino wall... and a rather ornately painted van which depicted the Aztec legend of Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuat.
The two officers lay panting for a few seconds — panting from the adrenaline rush the near-accident had caused.
Neither moved for several secconds, with Judy still lent over Nick, and grpping tightly onto the steering wheel. She glanced out of the window and noticed the van. She pointed to it, and the fox who was mostly beneath her, arched his head around to see.
"Finnick?" Judy asked.
"Finnick," Nick confirmed.
...
Judy and Wilde slipped into the dark and low-ceilinged confines of the casino. The thick smoke, which hung in the air, drifting down from the ceiling beams, stank of something which suggested a little more than just tobacco. The building was built on many levels — here a raised platform, there a lowered one — each connected up by a small wooden staircase of one or two steps.
The place was packed; its occupants huddled in the dark shadows and many corners of the building, which was yet more claustrophobic because of the thick smoke that hung about the air. Most of the pack — numerous species, but each of them large and grotesque — were too busy with their games of chance to notice them, but some looked. Those who did, normally the largest with scarred faces and broad arms, would bare their teeth and reach into their pockets for either knives or perhaps a gun.
The law had no place here.
Both officers were apprehensive at their situation as they stepped deeper into the gambling den — but knew better than to show it. Judy walked in front — but only Nick, who was for more familiar with such places then he would have liked to have been — could keep an eye on her and, despite the fact the rabbit was in front, it was actually Nick who was leading by keeping his claws pinched on the fabric on the back of Judy's vest and steering her.
Judy, while an amazing officer of the law, was, Nick knew, not nearly trained enough to get on the wrong side of these kinds of places... but then again, no officer was.
Nick kept Judy as safe as possible: whenever a particularly big or menacing mammal came close, he would steer her easily away from them, just in case the mammal, male or female, wanted to grab at them or pull a knife... Nick had seen that once before — from a distance, mind you — it didn't end well, and he had no intention of seeing Judy succumb to the same brutal, sudden and very fatal end.
He led her safely through to the back of the casino — fixing a stern gaze on everyone they passed, showing the tips of his fangs and keeping his tail high. A few mammals looked as though about to intervene... but then Nick caught their eye and they thought better of it. It took a special kind of training to survive in these places — not the kind of training any 'academy' could provide — training that came naturally after spending many years living in the rough side of Zootopia as Nick had.
He stepped down a small staircase and past another blackjack table. Past a number of pool tables with faded and ripped green-felt tabletops and into a room at the back. Nick knew how to carry himself. He had learnt the hard way that the best way to win a fight was simply to not start one in the first place. He knew how to walk, how to hold his body and the right mix of 'I am no threat, I am worthless, not worth your time' and 'look at me wrong an' I'll break your damn neck' to survive in these kinds of places and at the moment... it was just about the only thing keeping both of them alive.
The uniforms, whatever Judy believed, were of no help here in the Godless, lawless places of the Earth. "Okay, Nick, how are we doing this?" Judy whispered into Nick's ear, trying to keep their presence there nonchalant... blissfully unaware of the fact that the entire establishment had been informed of their presence the moment they had stepped through the doors.
"What do you mean?" he whispered back.
"Are we just here to talk to him, or do we just arrest him on the spot?"
Like we have a chance in hell of arresting someone 'inside' this place...
... Nick thought to himself, but instead said, "We just want to ask him some questions, and see how he reacts."
"Okay."
"Ohh, and let me do the talking."
"Right…"
"To start with, at least."
...
Of all the mammals in the club he was supposed to inform, the runner who had first spotted the arrival of the fox and bunny cop entering had but one more mammal to inform — the new guy; the fennec fox in the backroom who sat, dealing blackjack cards on the table, talking as he did so.
"You up ten pounds? One more card to the dealer. That's sixty against fourth, dealer wins again..." and so on. He hadn't been with them very long, this small fox called 'Finnick' — arriving out of nowhere only a couple of mounts ago — but he had quickly made an impression. Not only could he hold his own in a brawl — of the three fights that had broken out, the small fox had always been left standing at the end... cut and bruised to hell, but standing none the less — but he was also gifted with handling and rigging cards and had already made the casino a small fortune for all the scams he had pulled, undetected by the public.
The wolf leaned into the fox's large ear as he dealt out another hand. The fox stopped dealing as the wolf spoke, and then his eyes flicked up and past the blackjack players and towards the rest of the casino... his usual gruff voice dropping to a low hush.
"Where?"
The wolf pointed.
"Hell." The fox stood briskly and pushed the wolf aside as he stood. Of all the officers of the ZPD, it 'would' be those two. The blackjack players started to complain but the angry face of the fox snarled at them before marching off.
Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, he hoped to slip past Nick and Judy who were obviously looking for, thus made his way towards the fire exit... after being outside he would be far away and very quickly too. His ears caught these long and quick sniffs at his direction but his head didn't falter to look around because he didn't want to lose even a second's moment due to that possibly costing him his freedom.
Movement filled traces in his meaty ears behind him, but even still he didn't turn around and just reached out in desperation for the bar that would open the fire exit. A red paw grabbed him by his shoulder.
Damn it!
"Well I'll be damned," said Nick's irritatingly cocky voice, "if it isn't my old pall, Fin."
... Slowly, the small fennec fox turned to the two officers... and then he put on his best 'cheery smile' and talked with a friendly and over-familiar ring to his words, "Nick-Nickey, my old bud; what can I do yer fore?"
…
Author's notes:
Hesitance jumps around your mind,
Grooms decision thus chosen blind.
Your thoughts most succulent of snack,
All delivered by luscious feedback.
So don't hide like a tiny shrew,
Thus share that belovable review!
- Soho is an area of Westminster — part of the West End of London, England — which is a long established 'entertainment district'... for much of the 20th century, Soho had a reputation as a base for the sex industry and was well known for its night life.
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