ZOOTOPIA
(Parody of Chinatown)
TW: Contains slightly mild graphic violence
Nick pulled his 1935 Ford V8 De Luxe Phaeton up the driveway that lead to the entrance of a wealthy mansion. As the fox put his car into park and walked around the roundabout he noted a wealthy, creamy-white yellow 1937 Packard Twelve Convertible Victoria, its roof up, being washed down by an elder-looking otter. Nick knocked on one of the two massive doors that made up the entrance of the mansion. A powerful-looking otter, in a butler outfit, opened the door just ajar to stick his snout and face out.
"F.N. Wilde to see Mr. Hopps," the fox exclaimed, clutching his fedora in his paws.
Nick then handed a card from his wallet to the butler. The otter glanced at the card before closing the door, leaving the fox outside. Nick waited in the shade as of means of not being scorched under the hot sun.
Even now, in 1937, we have no way of beating the heat, the fox thought.
The door opened again and the butler was standing there. The otter then held the door open for Nick to enter.
"Please," the butler insisted.
Nick followed the otter. The fox tried to check out the rooms as he goes. A maid is cleaning in the den. They pass through it out some French doors along a trellised walkway to a large pond with running water.
"You wait, please," the butler said, as he walked through a fence door and through a thicket. Nick is alone by the pond. It's suddenly very quiet except for the running water. The pond is overflowing. After a moment, the Gardener comes running back. He smiles at Nick, and probes into the pond. There's something gleaming in the bottom of it. Nick notes it. After a moment, the Gardener drops the long probe, and the waters recede. The Gardner turned to the fox as if he knew him for the longest time.
"Bad for glass," the Gardner said before he turned to walk off.
"Yeah sure," Nick said, despite not understanding, "Bad for glass."
Nick stares at the object in the bottom of the pond that is gleaming. He looks at the tool the Gardener was using, hesitates, picks it up, and starts to probe into the pond himself, toward the gleaming object. He then spots Judy rounding a turn, coming down the trellised pathway. He casually belts the probe and holds onto it for poise. Judy is wearing jeans, with a hole on the back for her tail, that is lathered white on the inside of the thighs and laced with brown horsehair. She's wearing riding boots and is perspiring a little, but looks younger than she did in the office.
"Yes, Mr. Wilde," the rabbit asked, having just finished messing with her hair.
Nick is a little taken aback at seeing Judy. He is annoyed as well. Nevertheless, he is elaborately polite.
"Actually," the fox said, "I'm here to see your husband, Mrs. Hopps."
He laughed a little nervously and waited for a reply. There is none. The butler appears on the veranda.
"Would you like something to drink?" Judy offered.
"What're you having?" Nick asked, his tail wagging behind him.
"Carrot iced tea," the rabbit replied.
"Yeah. Fine," the fox complied, his eyes seemed to say 'of course'. "Thank you."
Judy sat down at a glassed-top table and Nick joined her.
"My husband's at the office," she said.
"Actually he's not," the fox retorted, "And he's moved from his apartment at the El Macando."
"That's not his apartment!" Judy hissed back, sharply but quietly.
"Anyway," Nick continued, "I... the point is, Mrs. Hopps. I'm not in business to be loved, but I am in business, and believe me, whoever set up your husband, set me up. L.A.'s a small town, people talk." He paused for a response, but there was none. "I'm just trying to make a living, and I don't want to become a local Joke."
The tea arrived and Judy began to drink hers before responding.
"Mr. Wilde," she began, her voice firm yet a tad shakey, "You've talked me into it. I'll drop the lawsuit."
"What?" the fox asked, taken aback yet again.
"I said I'll drop it." Judy restated.
The rabbit then glanced at the spices and liquid additions that were on the tray.
"So let's drop the whole thing," Judy said her voice again a tad shakey, "Sugar? Lemon? More carrot?"
"Mrs. Hopps?" the fox said.
"Yes, Mr. Wilde?" the rabbit asked, as she stirred her drink with the cone-shaped vegetable.
"I don't want to drop it," Nick replied.
Judy looked up at Nick. The fox smiled a little sheepishly.
"I should talk this over with your husband," Nick stated.
"Why?" the rabbit asked, a bit concerned as she took a sip of her drink. "What on earth for? Look, Hollis seems to think you're an innocent fox."
"Well, I've been accused of many things, Mrs. Hopps," the fox said, "But never that. You see, somebody went to a lot of trouble here, and I want to find out, lawsuit or no lawsuit. I'm not the one who's supposed to be caught with my pants down... so I'd like to see your husband. Unless that's a problem."
"What do you mean?" Judy asked with a slight edge in her voice.
"May I speak frankly, Mrs. Hopps?" Nick asked.
"You may if you can, Mr. Wilde," the rabbit answered.
"Well, that little girlfriend," the fox began, "she was attractive in a cheap sort of way of course. She's disappeared. Maybe they disappeared together somewhere."
"Suppose they did," Judy retorted, her voice growing a bit angry. "How does it concern you?"
"Nothing personal, Mrs. Hopps, I just..." Nick began, before being cut off.
"It's very personal," the rabbit retorted, her voice now a bit higher, "It couldn't be more personal. Is this a business or an obsession with you?"
"Look at it this way," the fox explained, "Now this phony broad, excuse the language, says she's you, she's hired me. Whoever put her up to it, didn't have anything against me. They were out to get your husband. Now if I see him, I can help him. Did you talk this morning?"
Judy's ears flopped down to her sides. She brushed at her jeans to do away with any remaining horse fur that was there.
"No, I went riding rather early," the rabbit answered.
"Look's like you went quite a distance," Nick noted.
"No, Just riding bareback, that's all," Judy replied, "Anyway, you might try the Oak Pass or Stone Canyon Reservoirs. Sometimes at lunch, Hollis takes walks around them. Otherwise, he'll be home by 6:30."
"I'll stop by," the fox said, before standing up and putting his fedora back on.
"Call first," the rabbit exclaimed as Nick walked off. Judy remained silent as he left, and noticed that the fox had not even touched his tea.
Nick drove up a winding road, following a flood channel up into the parched hills. As the fox approached the reservoir, he noticed two fire trucks, one a rescue truck at the entrance of the fenced area. People are milling around and KEEP OUT signs were on the fences, Nick slowly halted as a uniformed officer, a German Shepard, stopped him.
"Sorry sir," the dog said, "this is closed to the public."
The fox hesitated only for a moment, before speaking.
"It's alright," Nick said and reached into his pocket and produced a card that he had gotten earlier that day. "Russ Yelburton, Deputy Chief in the Department."
The guard looks at it before waving to the fencing operator to open it.
"Sorry, Mr. Yelburton," the dog said, "Go on down."
Nick drove past the Guards, through the gate, and along the reservoir. He spots a police car and an unmarked one as well. Nick stops and gets out of the car. Several men of various species with their backs turned, one talking quietly, staring down into the reservoir where other men in small skiffs are apparently dredging for something. One of the men, an orange British shorthair cat and wearing a pair of boots, turns and sees Nick. He recognizes Nick and is visibly shocked.
"Wilde," the cat said, "For God's sake."
"Puss," the fox acknowledged.
The cat walks toward Nick and takes him by the arm.
"C'mon," Puss began, "get outta 'ere before..."
"Before what?" Nick asked, "What the hell's goin' on here?"
At the sound of his raised voice, a white wolf, standing at the edge of the channel, talking to two young pups in swimming trunks, turns around. He's a tall, sleek man in his early thirties, with red eyes, Grim Rescupar. Both Nick and Rescupar register considerable surprise at seeing one another. The men around them are extremely uneasy. Puss is actually sweating. Finally, Rescubar smiles.
"Hello, Nick," the wolf said.
"How are you, Grim?" the fox asked and walked up to the big canine.
"I have a cold," Grim replied and began to walk down the pathway, Nick and Puss walking beside him. "I can't seem to shake it, but other than that, I'm fine."
"Summer colds are the worst," Nick said.
"Yeah they are," the wolf agreed.
The fox then pulled out a cigarette case, but as soon as he placed one in his maw, a Dalmatian in firefighter clothes spoke to him.
"No smoking, sir," the Dalmatian exclaimed, "It's a fire hazard, especially this time of the year."
"I think we can make an exception," Grim replied, "I'll see he's careful with the matches."
"Thanks, Grim," Nick said and lit the cigarette.
"How'd you get past the guards?" the wolf asked.
"Well," the fox answered, "To tell you the truth, I lied a little."
Girm chuckled and wagged his tail in sync with Nick's.
"You've done well by yourself," the wolf complimented.
"I get by," Nick replied.
"Well," Grim said, "Sometimes it takes a while for a man to find himself and I guess you have."
"Pokin' in other animals dirty linen," Puss joked.
"Yeah," the fox said, his face smug, "Tell me, you still putting gerbils in jail just for parking in the bigger-sized parking spots?"
Grim frowned at Nick's retort. The wolf knew the statement was targeted toward him.
"You're a little behind the times, Nick," Grim said, "They've got their own sized parking spots now, and I'm outta Zootopia."
"Since when?" Nick asked, with a sudden interest.
"Since I made Lieutenant," the wolf answered.
Nick is impressed.
"Congratulations," the fox said.
"Uh-huh," the wolf replied. Grim then stopped walking and turned toward Nick. "So what are you doing here?"
"Looking for someone," Nick answered.
"Who?" Grim asked.
"Hollis Hopps," the fox answered, "You seen him?"
The wolf raised an eyebrow and turned back around toward the reservoir.
"Oh yes," Grim answered.
"I'd like to talk to him," Nick said.
"You're welcome to try," the wolf said with a smirk. Grim then pointed with a finger from his paw toward the reservoir. "There he is."
A couple of anthro animals using poles with hooks are fishing about in the water. It can be seen that one of them has hooked something. He shouts. The other animal hooks it, too. They pull, revealing the soaking back of a rabbit's coat. They start to pull the body into the skiff.
Coroner's office
Grim is looking over the corpse of Hollis and draws back the viewing sheet. Judy gasps and clutches her chest at the sight. Grim drops the sheet and moves with Judy to one side and whispers, almost as if they were trying to keep the corpse from hearing them.
"It looks like he was washed the entire length of the runoff channel," the wolf stated, "Could he swim?"
"Of course," the rabbit answered.
"Obviously the fall must have knocked him out," Grim said.
Judy nods slightly Grim coughs. A coroner's assistant wheels the body out of the office.
"The alleged affair he was having," Grim continued, "The publicity didn't make him morose or unhappy?"
Outside the coroner's office, Nick has been sitting on a wooden bench, smoking and listening. At this question, he rose and looked through the doorway. Grim notices him but ignores him. Judy had her back to the fox and was oblivious to his presence.
"Well, it didn't make him happy..." the rabbit stated.
"But there is no possibility he would have taken his life?" the wolf questioned further.
"No," Judy sharply replied.
"Mrs. Hopps," Girm asked, a bit uncomfortable, "do you happen to know the name of the young bunny in question?"
"No," the rabbit said again, this time her voice a bit annoyed.
"Do you know where she might be?"
"Certainly not!"
Grim and Judy move closer to the door. Judy still doesn't notice Nick.
"You and your husband never discussed her?" the wolf asked.
"He... we did," the rabbit faltered, "He wouldn't tell me her name. We quarreled over her... of course. It came as a complete surprise to me."
"A complete surprise?" Grim questioned.
"Yes," Judy confirmed.
"But I thought you hired a private investigator," the wolf stated.
"A private investigator?" she asked, her voice a bit confused yet shakey.
"Mr. Wilde," Grim said and gestured toward the doorway.
Judy looked up to see Nick standing in the doorway only a foot or two from her. She stops cold. They look at one another for a long moment.
"Well yes," she said, slowly, "But I... I... did that because I thought it was a nasty rumor I'd put an end to..."
She finishes and looks plaintively at Nick. Grim is right at her back. Nick says nothing.
"And when did Mr. Wilde inform you that these rumors had some foundation in fact?" the wolf asked.
Judy turned back around but didn't know how to answer. Then the fox intervened.
"Just before the story broke into the papers, Grim," Nick said, smoothly.
Grim nods. They begin to walk slowly, again having to move out of the way as some other corpse is being wheeled out of one of the Coroner's cubicles.
"You wouldn't happen to know the present whereabouts of the young bunny?" the wolf asked Nick.
"No," the fox answered.
"Or her name?"
"No,"
They walked a few steps further down the hall.
"Will you need me for anything else, Lieutenant?" Judy asked.
"I don't think so, Mrs. Hopps," Grim answered "Of course, you have my deepest sympathy and if we need any more information, we'll be in touch."
"I'll walk her to her car," Nick stated and slung his arm down under the rabbit's at an angle so as to not be dragging her up. "Be right back."
Judy glances at Nick. They go through a couple of outer doors and pass several reporters who have been in the outer hall, laughing, kidding, the tag end of lines like "only in L.A." and "Southern Cafeteria." Nick hurries her past the reporters who flank them, asking questions. Nick brushes them aside. In a small parking lot. Judy now sat in the luxurious car that Nick had seen earlier that day. She fumbles in her bag, looking feverishly for something in her purse.
"Mrs. Hopps?" the fox questioned, "Mrs. Hopps?"
"Just a minute," the rabbit replied, flustered.
"You left your key in the ignition," Nick stated.
"Oh, thank you," Judy replied embarrassed, "Thank you for going along with me. I just didn't want to explain anything... I'll send you a check."
"A check?" the fox asked.
"To make it official," Judy said, "I hired you."
She drove off, leaving Nick gaping.
Nick entered the morgue and looked at one of the covered corpses. It seemed to be fresh and the brown fur on the paws was unmistakable. Besides, the toe tag read 'Hopps'. Morty, a mole, is standing near it in a doorway to an adjoining room. A radio is on and with it the announcement that they're about to hear another chapter in the life of Lorenzo Jones and his devoted wife, Belle. Another Coroner's assistant sits at the table, listening to the radio and eating a sandwich. Nick ambles into the room.
"Nick," the mole exclaimed, "What're you doin' here?"
"Nothin', Morty," the fox answered, "it's my lunch hour, I thought I'd drop by and see who died lately."
Nick picks up the sheet and pulls it back. Hopps's body. Eyes open, the face badly cut and bruised.
"Yeah?" Morty said, "Ain't that something? Middle of a drought, the water commissioner drowns. Only in L.A."
"Yeah," Nick agreed, "Banged up pretty bad."
"That's a long fall," the mole stated.
"So how are you, Morty?" the fox asked.
Morty is busy carting away another corpse with the help of the assistant.
"Never better," Morty said, "You know me, Nick."
As he begins to move the body into the refrigerator, he breaks into a wrenching spasm of coughing. Nick spots the other body and lowers the sheet on Hopps.
"Yeah," Nick said, "So who you got there?"
Morty pulled back the sheets to see a still body of a shaggy dog.
"Leroy Shuhardt," the mole said, "local drunk used to hang around Ferguson's Alley."
Morty brushes some sand from the dog's face and laughs.
"Quite a character," Morty said, "Lately, he'd been living in one of the downtown storm drains. Had a bureau dresser down there and everything."
Nick has already lost interest, he starts away.
"Drowned too," the mole added.
Nick's ears, fur, and tail perked up in sudden interest.
"Come again?" the fox asked.
"Yeah," Morty explained, "Got dead drunk, passed out in the bottom of the riverbed."
"The L.A. river?" Nick asked.
"Yeah," the mole said puzzled, "under Hollenbeck Bridge, what's wrong with that?"
"It's bone dry, Morty," the fox exclaimed.
"It's not completely dry," Morty retorted.
"Yeah," Nick said, "Well he ain't gonna drown in a damp riverbed either, I don't care how soused he was. That's like drowning in a teaspoon."
Morty shrugged.
"We got water outta him, Nick," the mole said, "He drowned."
Nick returned to the riverbed that he had been spying on the other day. The fox stumbled down into the embankment and stepped into the muddy ground in front of the storm drain. Nick pulled his shoe out swearing. The fox's ears picked up a squishy, yet familiar clopping sound. Clearing the bridge on the opposite side is the young coyote pup on his swayback horse again. They look at each other for a moment.
"You were riding out here the other day weren't you?" Nick asked the pup.
The pup didn't answer.
"Speak English? Habla Ingles?" the fox spoke in a fluent accent.
"Si," the pup replied.
Didn't you talk to a rabbit," Nick began, "About a few days ago, wore glasses, He..."
The pup nodded.
"What did you talk about, mind my asking?" the fox asked.
As the sun set, the shadows of the two grew long.
"The water," the pup finally said, his voice despite being young sounded ancient and eerie.
"What about the water?" Nick asked.
"When it comes."
"When it comes? What'd you tell him?"
"Comes in different parts of the river. Every night a different part."
Nick was left with the cryptic message as the pup road slowly on.
Nick slowly drove his car up to the scene of the crime. The area of the reservoir was now empty, but the signs of warning still were there. The fox could still see in the dark, while it did feel like it was night, bits of the sun were still shining. Nick notices that the chain link fence extended into the flood channel so climbing through that was gonna be impossible. Nick turned off his car and looked the fence up and down. Barbed wire hung from over the top except for the ones in the flood channel and the entrance. The fox slowly heaved himself over the top and onto the concrete ground on the other side.
Nick began to stroll upward beside the flood channel as the lights from the reservoir turn on, they barely illuminate the area. The fox slowly was beginning to be engulfed in shadow when, a gunshot, rang out. Nick slowly scurried into the flood control channel, which is at this point about four feet deep and six feet wide, as another gunshot went off. The sound of male figures moving in the bushes also could be heard, coming nearer, before retreating. Nick waited to make sure it was safe to get out. Suddenly, a new sound was in his ears. He tried to gaze in which direction it was coming from. Then he's inundated with a rush of water that pours over him, knocks off his hat, soaks his fur, and carries him down the channel, banging into its banks, as he desperately tries to grab some of the overgrowth to hang on and pull himself out. But the force of the stream batters him and carries him with it until he's brought rudely to the chainlink fence. It stops him cold. He's nearly strained through it. Swearing and choking, he pulls himself out of the rushing water by means of the fence itself. Drenched, and battered, he slowly climbs back over the fence and makes his way toward his car.
"Damn shoe," Nick mutters, noticing the lack of one of his footwear.
As the fox got to the fence where his car was parked on the other side, he was just about to climb it when he heard something, or rather, someone.
"Hold it right there, puppy dog," an energetic, and Italian-accented voice said.
Nick turned slowly around to see two figures appear from the shadows. One which Nick knew, Mulvihill, and the other who was a new face. A squirrel, in his early forties, although his face seemed as if he were in his late twenties, wearing a rather sleek suit and fedora. He was smaller than either Nick or Mulvihill.
"Hello Claude," the fox said to the bear, "Where'd you get the rodent?"
Mulvihill didn't reply, instead, he slugged Nick in the jaw, before getting behind the fox and holding him in his own bulky arms. The squirrel pulled out a switchblade and held the blade close to Nick's snout.
"You're a very snoopy fella, puppy dog," the squirrel said, who seemed to be trembling with rage. "You know what happens to snoopy fellas?"
Nick says nothing as he feels the cold metal of the blade enters his left nostril.
"Wanna guess? the squirrel teased, "No? Okay, they lose their noses."
With a quick flick, the squirrel pulls back the knife. laying Nick's left nostril open about an inch further. Nick screams. Blood gushes down onto his shirt, fur, and coat. Gittes bends over, instinctively trying to keep the blood from getting on his clothes, using his paw. Mulvihill and the squirrel stare at him.
"Next time you lose the whole thing, puppy dog," the squirrel said and wiped the blood on the knife off. "I'll cut it off and feed it to my goldfish, understand?"
"Tell him you understand, Wilde," Mulvihill demanded.
Nick was now groveling on his paws and knees.
"I understand..." the fox mumbled through his paw.
Nick was then shoved by one of the men's lower paws, before they walked off, leaving the injured fox to his own accord.