Judy heard the shrill rise and fall of the police cars' sirens before anyone else in the club did, and had to force herself not to react as the noise got ever louder at their approach. Neither Woodsley nor Ajax seemed particularly put out by the noise, although Nick winced several seconds after Judy first started hearing the noise, his features twisted into a grimace of distaste. "I do hate that sound," he said, and his conversational tone was marred only by the volume at which he spoke to be heard over the sirens.

Ajax chuckled at that. "Lot of experience with the police, I'd bet," he said, looking down at the much smaller mammal.

Nick looked the officer up and down before responding. "More than you, I'd bet," he said.

Ajax laughed again and nodded to concede the point; Nick was certainly older than Ajax was. Judy guessed that the horse had probably only graduated the ZPD academy in '24 or '25, and his short chestnut-colored fur still had the glossiness of youth. Woodsley looked significantly older, the first streaks of gray going through his shaggy fur, and his generous gut made Judy think his academy days were long behind him. "You're alright, fox," he said, "Ain't many mammals that can make him shut his trap."

"Hey!" Ajax said, taking on a wounded expression that Judy doubted was sincere, "Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

Woodsley simply shot the horse a bemused look. "Anything that makes you shut your yap ain't bad in my book."

The bison then turned and looked down at Quill. "But if anyone should be talking, it's you. Last chance before you go to jail, pal."

The hedgehog gave a keening moan of distress but didn't say anything else. Even though Judy had brought him into the club so that she could use the telephone—being sure to speak loudly enough to ensure that he would overhear—and call both Precinct Five and the Bureau of Prohibition, he had maintained his silence ever since his outburst. Woodsley and Ajax had happily accompanied her down into the club, as while it was only marginally warmer inside than it was outside, there wasn't any wind. Ajax, at least, had seemed visibly impressed when he heard about the stockpile of alcohol they were standing on top of, but Woodsley hadn't done more than look done at Quill.

By the time the cars parked out front, the sound of the sirens was like ice picks through Judy's ears, and she had to resist the urge to clap her paws over them. Mercifully, the police shut their sirens off, and then the brief silence was broken by the officers trudging down the stairs, Captain Keeshan in the lead. "Agent Hopps," she said by way of greeting, "You certainly do work fast. You better have something good for me."

Judy gestured at where Quill was sullenly sitting on the floor, his paws cuffed behind him. "Mr. Quill here has at least a few thousand dollars' worth of bootleg alcohol hidden under the floor," she said, "And I think he might know something about the murder of Thomas Carajou."

Judy was sure that there had been at least two mammals involved in the murder, one standing next to the wolverine to break his neck and the other hidden beneath the floor to stab him. Whoever had been beneath the floor must have known about the crawlspace in order to be able to use it, and it didn't seem like much of a stretch to guess that Quill had been the mammal to tell them about it. "I don't!" Quill suddenly blurted, "I don't know anything about any murders, I swear!"

He broke down into blubbering tears. "I swear," he repeated weakly, "I don't know anything."

"Tell it to Sweeney," Keeshan said, barely deigning to look in his direction before turning her attention back to Judy, "I think you ought to tell me what you found."

It didn't take Judy very long to summarize how she had found the hidden crawlspace with Nick's assistance, although Keeshan had simply grunted when she heard about his contribution. Judy showed Keeshan the trapdoor, which was hidden amazingly well; even standing behind the bar the seams were completely invisible from how expertly worked they were. Even the way to open the trapdoor from above had been cunningly hidden, as what simply looked like a knothole in one of the planks could be pushed down to release the latch and provide a place to pull.

The kangaroo hadn't bothered to go down into the crawlspace, being tall enough that she couldn't have even come close to standing up straight down there, but the view of the bottles had been enough for her. After pulling her head back up, the kangaroo gestured at the officers who had followed her down into the club and then waited patiently by the staircase. "Pull him up," she said, and the expression on her face appeared entirely satisfied as the officers, a burly mountain goat in a standard ZPD uniform and a capybara bundled up in nearly as much cold weather gear as Keeshan, grabbed the portly hedgehog by his armpits and pulled him upright.

"Please, you can't!" he said, "You can't! I'll be killed for this! Don't you understand? You can't do this! Please!"

Keeshan appeared entirely unaffected by Quill's pleas for mercy, and she motioned for the officers to hold him still rather than drag him out. "I understand perfectly, Mr. Quill. Bootlegging alcohol, aiding and abetting a murder... I'm sure you've got some powerful friends who aren't going to be too friendly anymore when they hear about this."

She grinned, and there was no humor in it. "But I'll give you a chance to play nice."

She turned to one of the officers. "Throw him in solitary. Make sure he doesn't have any... accidents before he makes bail."

Keeshan turned back to face Quill, leaning in until she was only inches away from his face. "What happens after that is all up to you. So think about it, would you?"

Keeshan turned around. "Take him away," she said, and she appeared completely untouched by Quill's continued pleas as he was dragged up the stairs.

"I've been wanting to put him away for years," she told Judy, sounding entirely satisfied, "But for a bad egg, he's not very hard-boiled, is he?"

She laughed at her own little joke, and the sound of it seemed strangely out of character to Judy; from what she had seen of the kangaroo, what little humor she had was entirely mean-spirited, but hearing an apparently genuine laugh was disturbing. "Now we just have to tie him to Lionheart," Keeshan said.

Judy was willing to bet that Keeshan was right and Quill had been talking about Lionheart; it would explain why the lion had been at La Porte Verte. From the way Lionheart had treated Nick, he certainly seemed ruthless enough that Quill would be afraid of retribution. Quill had also seemed rather surprised to see Nick alive when they had briefly talked outside the Thief of the Night less than an hour ago, and if Lionheart had started planning to eliminate Nick shortly after their encounter at La Porte Verte it would certainly explain why Quill had known about it. Quill's choice of words when he had been arrested was suspicious, too; he had claimed to not know anything about murders rather than a single murder. It was possible he had slipped over his words in his haste, or maybe it hinted at a connection to the rash of other gangsters dying untimely deaths.

The last piece, then, would be figuring out why Lionheart had ordered the murder of Carajou. Perhaps the wolverine had stumbled across the operation that Quill and Lionheart were running and had to be silenced, or perhaps it had been done to keep Quill in line; if he was an accessory to murder he would have a lot to lose by going to the police. "Who knows, maybe hearing that Quill was arrested is what it'll take to loosen the White Widow's tongue," Keeshan continued, interrupting Judy's train of thought.

Judy exchanged a glance with Nick. He had, probably wisely, stayed off to the side once Keeshan and her backup officers showed up, and he hadn't made so much as a single comment. Considering how Keeshan had treated him before, she was unlikely to listen to anything he had to say anyway, and Judy guessed that it was only the success of arresting Quill that had warmed the kangaroo's attitude towards Judy herself. "I'm not sure Zoya could have done it," Judy began, but Keeshan cut her off.

"Lay off, Hopps," she said dismissively, "She must have had an accomplice to break his neck, sure, but she could have squeezed down into that crawlspace if she really wanted to. She's pretty short for a polar bear."

Keeshan might have been right about that, but it still seemed incredibly convenient to Judy that the officers who had arrested Zoya had managed to find the apparent murder weapon in a garbage can not even inside the club but hadn't managed to find so much as a trace of the hidden crawlspace. "I still want to check her alibi," Judy said.

The kangaroo shrugged. "It's your time to waste," she said.

"I do apologize for being late," Bellwether interrupted, "But I'm afraid the Bureau doesn't get to have an office in every precinct. I hope you're getting along well with Agent Hopps, Captain Keeshan."

Judy had been so caught up in her argument with Keeshan that she hadn't even heard her boss arriving, but her attention immediately turned to the stairs. Bellwether was accompanied by at least half a dozen prohibition agents, most of them sheep. "Director Bellwether," Keeshan said, giving the ewe a stiff little nod, "The alcohol is all yours. Murders are the responsibility of the ZPD."

Bellwether took her time to reach the bottom of the stairs and delicately stepped onto the planks of the floor before she spoke again. "So long as we can all cooperate," Bellwether said cheerfully, "I'm sure none of your officers will get in the way of any of my agents? It'd be a shame if any alcohol went missing before we could destroy it."

Her words were sweet enough, but Keeshan's eyes narrowed at the thinly-veiled accusation and her posture somehow became even straighter. "I don't tolerate any of my officers breaking the law," Keeshan replied.

"I'm sure you're very careful about that now," Bellwether said, emphasizing the last word, "But why don't we make sure there aren't any, ah, misunderstandings?"

"Agent Ramses," Bellwether said as she raised a finger and gestured forward, "Oversee the disposal of the alcohol, would you? Once the officers of Precinct Five take their pictures, of course."

The one-armed sheep gave her a nod and then turned to his fellow agents. "You heard the director," he said.

The other agents immediately followed him to the trapdoor, which Judy had left open, and climbed down into the crawlspace. It left the main area of the club occupied only by Nick, Judy, Keeshan, and Bellwether. Keeshan hadn't moved from her spot, simply staring down at the little sheep. "We're always happy to cooperate," Keeshan said, sounding anything but, "But you'll understand if I have my own officers watching the disposal."

"By all means," Bellwether replied, and then she turned to head back up the stairs.

"Walk with me, Agent Hopps," Bellwether said, and then added, after glancing briefly at Nick, "Alone."

The ewe immediately turned and started walking up the stairs without seeing whether or not Judy was following. Nick looked down at Judy and simply shrugged. "Somehow I think I'll manage," he said.

Judy quickly caught up with Bellwether and followed as she walked away from the Thief of the Night. Judy struggled as to whether or not she should break the silence first before Bellwether finally did so herself when they were a good half a block away from the club. Bellwether stopped suddenly, and then turned around to look back at the commotion. The cars that the Bureau of Prohibition agents had shown up in looked particularly shabby in comparison to the police cars. Although both had arrived in Model Ts, the ones that the Bureau drove were showing their age to a much greater extent; even the black paint on the Bureau's cars looked duller. The club was positively swarming with police and prohibition agents though, the latter taking the laborious task of hauling the many bottles of alcohol out of the Thief of the Night and pouring it into the gutter.

Even from half a block away, Judy could smell the faintest whiff of alcohol, and she thought that the smell would probably linger for a long time. "Well, Agent Hopps," Bellwether said, "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Judy turned and looked down at her boss. "Thank you, ma'am," she said.

"It's not a complete success, of course," Bellwether added, taking off her glasses and polishing the lenses with her lacy handkerchief, "I knew that Quill was up to something—why would I have sent you to the Thief of the Night otherwise if I didn't?—but I had so hoped that I could catch Lionheart too and you've completely ruined that."

The ewe shrugged philosophically as she put her glasses back on. "But Quill is a decent catch, for your first attempt. I can't imagine it'll take much to get him to talk."

"Actually, he said that someone would kill him," Judy said, "He wouldn't say anything else."

Bellwether regarded Judy, her expression difficult to read. "Why, you're only a rookie, don't forget," she said, "You did the best you could, bless your heart, but you'd better believe I have ways of making mammals talk."

"But—" Judy began before Bellwether waggled a hoof at her, clucking her tongue.

"Ah, ah, ah," she said in an irritatingly sing-song manner, "It's time for you to listen, understand?"

Judy began to say that she did before seeing the look on Bellwether's face. Any trace of warmth was completely gone, her features hard and cold. Judy simply nodded, and Bellwether relaxed a degree. "That's good," she said, "Now, let's face the facts. Before I sent you into the Thief of the Night, I said that all I wanted you to do was see whether or not they were selling alcohol. The murder must have been something of a shock, I'm sure, but you just couldn't leave it alone, could you? Keeshan can't be trusted any more than, why, a fox in a hen house—"

At this, Bellwether paused to give a significant look at Nick; even from a distance in the poor lighting his red fur stood out from the other mammals, particularly because unlike the prohibition agents busy at work hauling alcohol out of the crawlspace he was simply leaning against the wall of the club. "—but she had a suspect. All we had to do was let Quill re-open his vulgar little club and try moving his product in a panic. I'm sure it would be to Lionheart. He's been getting sloppy ever since Biggliani's arrest. Poor thing just doesn't have any brains behind that bluster, and I was so close to getting him."

"Medvedeva has to be innocent," Judy protested, "She couldn't—"

"Innocent? The White Widow?" Bellwether interrupted with a little chuckle, "Gosh, when you get married I'm going to feel sorry for your husband."

Judy tried changing tactics. "She could have stabbed Carajou or broken his neck, but she couldn't have done both."

Bellwether regarded her coolly. "So you see? She doesn't have to be innocent. All she needed was an accomplice."

Before Judy could voice a word of protest, Bellwether put a hoof on top of her paw briefly before taking it away. "I know you try to see the best in mammals, and that's wonderful, really it is. But these are predators, Judy. You can't trust them to act civilized."

"But—"

"Now, now," Bellwether said soothingly, "Maybe I was a bit harsh. Sometimes I care a little too much too. Why, if I had my way, there wouldn't be all these awful gangs, but the best we can do is make sure we come down hard. Medvedeva, Carajou, Wilde... Predators are all the same. They see kindness as a weakness, and as one of my agents you can't be weak."

"I wouldn't have found the crawlspace without N—without Wilde's help," Judy said.

It wasn't necessarily true, but Judy thought that Nick deserved his fair share of the credit. She might have eventually noticed the trapdoor or the loose floorboard on her own, but she hadn't been able to smell the broken bottle of scotch until she had been down in the crawlspace. In her haste to give credit where it was due, she worried that Bellwether might have caught her slip up, referring to her partner in a way the sheep would likely consider overly familiar, but if Bellwether noticed she didn't mention it. "You're modest, too. I like that," Bellwether said, "But if you built a cabinet, should the hammer take credit? Of course not; it's just a tool, and what matters is the skill behind the tool. It looks like you've been doing a wonderful job so far getting your tool to do what you want it to do, but you ought to be careful. If you miss a nail with a hammer and hit your thumb, that's not the hammer's fault."

The intended meaning was completely obvious, but Judy felt as though Nick had become significantly more helpful once she had apologized for the very thing that Bellwether seemed to be suggesting she do—to treat him as a disposable tool—and started treating him as an equal. She forced herself to swallow the words she wanted to say and nodded. "I like to think I can admit when I'm wrong," Bellwether continued, "And I was a little hasty right after your unfortunate arrest. I think you've shown you've got some real talent for the work, even if you do still need some training."

Bellwether reached out to touch Judy's paw again, and the ewe's expression looked completely sincere. "I think you've still got the makings of an excellent prohibition agent," she said, "After this whole mess gets put to bed, I'd be honored to have you stay on. If you do decide to become an officer, I think you'd be exactly the kind of officer the Bureau needs supporting it."

Judy was momentarily dumbfounded. It was not at all the direction she had expected the conversation to go, and it took her a moment to respond. "Thank you, ma'am," she said.

"You're earning it," Bellwether said, smiling, and then she started walking back towards the Thief of the Night.

"How's the other part of your assignment going?" Bellwether asked, "Have you found anything we can use to throw the book at the fox?"

Judy felt her stomach fall. Bellwether apparently remembered rather keenly her request to find something to arrest Nick for. "He's... very careful," Judy said, which was the truth, although she neglected to mention that she hadn't taken any effort to honor her promise.

Bellwether nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure," she said, "But he's bound to slip up. He's not as clever as he thinks he is, you know."

Bellwether apparently took Judy's silence for assent, and she continued, "But when you arrest Wilde, you can forget about Bogo's offer."

"Ma'am?" Judy asked, unsure of what her boss was implying.

"Bogo's not the only one who has some pull with the police academy, you know," Bellwether said, "I'd prefer to have you stay with the Bureau, of course, but if you can give me Wilde I can guarantee you a place."

Author's Notes:

The title of this chapter, "That's My Weakness Now," comes from a 1928 Helen Kane song. The lyrics are about how loving someone can make traits you never found attractive before suddenly become attractive because the person you love has those traits. I'm using it more for the title, as this chapter involves several characters having their personal weaknesses either discussed or exploited, particularly Bellwether's Faustian bargain she sweetens at the end of the chapter.

Police cars of the 1920s were sometimes equipped with pneumatic sirens, which use a perforated rotating disc to periodically cut off the flow of air through a tube to produce the distinctive sound. These sirens were typically either cranked by hand or ran off an accessory belt of the engine of the vehicle they were attached to, with electrically powered models coming later. These sirens could be incredibly loud—the city of New York actually eventually banned the Q2B siren, an early electromechanical siren, because of noise complaints. That'd probably be an even larger issue in the world of Zootopia, considering that there are many animals with much better hearing than humans.

Police cars of the 1920s did not, however, have police lights. A police car in 1927 might have a beacon or a searchlight, but wouldn't have the distinctive red "gumball" light that American police first started using in the 1940s, which were in turn later replaced by the blue and red lightbars that most American jurisdictions still use. This explains why the police cars aren't particularly visible at a distance; it was also quite common for early police cars to simply be painted black. By the 1950s, it was very common for American police cars to be black with white doors (since it meant that there was no special painting needed), but of course other countries have different paint schemes, many of them designed for higher visibility than just plain black and white.

"Tell it to Sweeney" is a bit of 1920s slang that's about equivalent to the modern expression "Find someone who cares." That is, you're not going to get any sympathy.

Keeshan's use of "aiding and abetting" to refer to what she suspects Quill to be guilty of is consistent with the legal use of the phrase; she doesn't think that he actually committed the murder, but assisted in planning or carrying it out. As Quill is being arrested, he wouldn't be going to prison immediately, but would instead be incarcerated in a short-term detention facility, probably quite similar to the jail that Judy ended up in.

It's not unheard of, particularly when it comes to organized crime, for certain people to die in custody; Quill is probably safer being held in solitary confinement, although that on its own can be a pretty severe punishment.

"Hard-boiled" was slang for "tough," which Quill certainly wasn't. Although "bad egg" does survive as a term for someone who is no good, there's an extra layer to it; in the 1920s an "egg" was slang for a person who lived a luxurious lifestyle.

"Lay off" was 1920s slang that was used as a request for someone to stop talking nonsense.

Bellwether telling Judy that predators see kindness as weakness is actually based off of an Al Capone quote: "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness. I am kind to everyone, but when someone is unkind to me, weak is not what you are going to remember about me."

I thought that was a somewhat amusing use of the phrase to parallel Bellwether's own failings with those of the infamous gangster; she certainly has a very wide streak of ruthlessness, and she may know just what buttons to push to get mammals to do what she wants them to.

Thanks for reading! As always, I'd love to know what you thought.