If there was something that Nick prided himself on–well, one of the many things that he prided himself on–it was his ability to read mammals. He took in the opossum's appearance with the critical eye of a seasoned hustler and considered the picture that it made. The opossum's suit was expensive but somewhat too small, the center button visibly strained by his gut. The suit was still in fashion, which was somewhat less telling for a male than it was for a female–male fashion tended to change much more slowly, and it would take years for a suit, especially a good one, to be truly out of style. Still, the un-scuffed golden watch that he wore suggested that the opossum wasn't holding onto fading wealth by wearing an old suit that was getting too small; it suggested quite the opposite, that this was a mammal on his way up. Probably later in his career than he would have liked at that, since the opossum looked to be on the older side of middle aged. He was sloppy, his dress shirt coming un-tucked with a sticky-looking brown stain (teriyaki, probably) the size of a dime near the collar and his breath reeking of a strange mix of foods–everything from garlic to dark chocolate to nattō. Nick did his best not to wince at the smell.

Putting it all together, the mammal that Nick was smoothly guiding out of the hospital was an up-and-coming agent whose star had risen with that of his client. He was a stress-eater, getting too big for his tailor-made clothes as he binged on odd combinations of food to soothe the anxiety from his work. Nick reminded himself that he might also be completely off-base. There was, after all, a certain gray-furred and rabbit-eared exception that showed he wasn't always right when it came to first impressions. Still, Nick's gut told him that the opossum wasn't the mammal who had broken into Holly Leaves's apartment. The opossum's age and weight suggested that his days of climbing fire escapes, if that was ever something that he had been capable of, were long behind him. When he was shouting at the hospital's receptionist he had looked about ready to keel over of a heart attack from the exertion, and it was hard to imagine the opossum making it up six floors worth of ladders. The opossum might still be involved, but he would have had to hire someone to do the dirty work for him.

The entire time that Nick had been leading the opossum out of the hospital and onto the front patio outside the hospital entrance, he had kept up a constant patter without even having to think about what he was saying. Once they were outside and seated on a convenient bench, it was time to switch from calming the opossum down to pumping him for information. "Here's my card, by the way," Nick said, handing over his standard ZPD business card.

Nick didn't particularly care for the ZPD business cards. As was to be expected of the government, the cards looked to be the work of the lowest bidder, poorly printed on cheap cardstock and not even perfectly rectangular. The cards Nick had made for his various dubious enterprises had been much nicer. But a business card was a business card, and handing one over, particularly to an older mammal like the opossum, triggered what was practically an instinct. The opossum fumbled in his suit jacket and pulled out a small case, fishing his own business card out of it. "Marty Thanatopsis," he introduced himself, handing Nick the card.

It was a simple card; the name Marty Thanatopsis over the word "Agent" with a telephone number and an email address underneath. Nick pocketed the card and waited for the opossum to continue. "Listen," he said with a sigh, running a paw across the top of his head and making his fur stick up in irregular spikes, "I'm sorry about back in the lobby. I shouldn't have yelled at the receptionist, but..."

Marty trailed off, looking at the ground and seeming somewhat abashed. Nick smoothly provided a suggestion, "You've been under a lot of pressure lately, haven't you?"

The opossum looked up in surprise, confirming Nick's guess with his reaction. "Pressure's not the right word for it. You know what happens when you land a starring role on a prime time show for a nobody out of the soaps?"

Before Nick could even venture a guess, the agent continued, "Every nobody who thinks they didn't get a fair shake crawls out of the woodwork to be your client. And you think landing a starring role is the end of what an agent does? Of course it's not! Now the suits at the network are playing hardball for picking up more episodes and all the other agencies are promising the moon to get my star to jump ship and work for them!"

There was a lot of useful information in that little tirade, and Nick considered what it revealed carefully. By landing Holly Leaves, an unknown actress, a major role, Marty Thanatopsis had apparently become the agent to contact for other unknown actors and actresses, and probably a large number of actors and actresses who were less "unknowns" and more "waiters and baristas with delusions of making it acting." Thanatopsis had happily taken on additional clients; he didn't strike Nick as the kind of mammal to leave money on the table even if the clients had absolutely no chance of landing roles of any kind. The opossum was also dealing, less happily, with the reality that the network wanted to pay as little as possible to keep Holly Leaves on the show (and by extension, keep his cut of the contract as small as possible) while other agents wanted to get his golden goose for themselves.

It certainly seemed possible that the opossum had arranged for the attack on his client himself to raise her profile and make her more valuable during negotiations. But that seemed risky–the attack could easily make the actress decide that life in the public eye wasn't worth the danger and retire to a more private life. Unless, of course, the agent and the actress had staged the attack together, but the injury to the boyfriend made that seem less likely. Nick made a mental note to get Judy's read on how Holly felt about her agent and her boyfriend. Engaging in further speculation without facts wasn't going to reveal anything but his own biases on the matter.

"That certainly sounds like a lot to have on your platter," Nick said, doing his best to come off as understanding and compassionate rather than smarmy and condescending.

It didn't always work, particularly since there were plenty of mammals predisposed to read the worst possible interpretation into whatever a fox said. Thanatopsis, at least, didn't seem to be one of those mammals. "But can you think of anyone who would want to hurt or kill Holly Leaves? Has she received any threats?"

The agent snorted at that. "She's an actress, of course she has. Predators who don't like seeing a little bunny onscreen as a cop getting the better of big bad predators. Bunnies who think she's a bad role model for their kits. Random crazies, that's all."

Nick frowned at that. Considering that his client had actually been attacked, dismissing threats as the work of random crazy mammals seemed a bit short-sighted. "We'll need to see those threats."

"Fine, I'll have my secretary get them together for you in the morning."

Nick made another mental note to follow up on that as well. "We'd appreciate that," he replied, "Now, would you be able to–"

Nick was cut off when the opossum's cellphone starting ringing. Marty looked at the screen and swore loudly. "Sorry officer, but I got to take this," he said, jumping to his feet and answering the phone.

"Rich! It's good to–" the opossum started before the mammal on the other side of the line started speaking over him.

Nick couldn't make out the individual words, but the tone that came through didn't sound particularly happy. "Yes, of course I am. We're going to–"

The opossum was cut off again by the mammal on the other end of the call, and wasn't able to get in much more than a few acknowledgements as the voice kept speaking. "I look forward to it. Listen, I've got to–"

Thanatopsis stopped speaking, the other mammal having apparently disconnected the call while he was mid-word. He hissed wordlessly, then seemed to remember that there was a cop sitting right next to him.

"That was Rich Wolf," he said as though that should have explained everything, "Executive producer for Black and White."

"Ah," Nick said, figuring that the opossum would keep talking given the opportunity.

"This is just like him, always micro-managing everything. Doesn't even trust me to set up a press conference!"

Thanatopsis looked like he was working himself back up into a fit of anger to rival the one he had displayed in the hospital's lobby. "Well, I think I've taken enough of your time," Nick said casually, standing up, "I'll be looking forward to copies of those threats tomorrow, OK?"

"Yeah, yeah," the opossum said dismissively, furiously typing away on his phone and pacing away from the hospital door.

Nick went back into the hospital, resolving to catch up with Judy and get his own take on Holly Leaves.