đź•” 2:35 am
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Dibble couldn't sleep that night. Because of course he couldn't.
It was still dark outside when he decided to throw on whatever was on hand and go check on the cats. The streets were quiet and very cold. The only noise he could hear other than his own car was the boisterous laughter of the men still bowling down behind the alley.
He found Brain huddled up in blankets inside the trash can right next to T.C.'s. The poor cat looked like he hadn't slept a wink, either. "T.C. isn't back yet?" the cop asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
Brain looked down and seemed to sink into his burrito of blankets even further.
"It'll be okay, Brain. It'll all turn out okay. We're gonna find Choo-Choo. I'm takin' T.C. up to the station house as soon as he gets back, an' we're gonna file a missing person's report."
"..It's that Choo-Choo's plannin' somethin' that's drivin' T.C. nuts, Officer," the policeman turned to see Benny appear from around the fence. The blue cat waddled into the alley, absolutely exhausted, like his feet could barely carry him.
"Benny…why ain' he with ya?"
"He's still at the station. He told me an' Brain to get back here an' get some sleep so we can continue tomorrow..," said Benny, knowing full well that everyone knew no one would be doing that.
"I don' understand it…what makes 'im so sure Choo-Choo's plannin' somethin' on his own?"
"It ain't the time nor the road Chooch takes when he visits his sis."
"So? I thought he couldn't arrange with the usual suspects this time? That's the ride he could manage, an' maybe his sis was too busy earlier. There are a lotta reasons why he may not have arrived at her place yet."
"He always tells her when he'll be arrivin'. He didn't this time," murmured Benny, sounding like the only thing stopping him from crying was that in doing so he would be admitting that their friend was indeed missing. It would make Choo-Choo's absence real.
Naturally, the mad dash up to the train station earlier brought no useful information to work with; the platform supervisor - who was well acquainted with the pink feline - did confirm that he saw Choo-Choo get on the train, and that it arrived in Chicago right on time three days ago - no delays or issues whatsoever. But he had nothing else to share. Nothing was out of the ordinary; he reiterated what everyone was already saying - Choo-Choo wanted to visit his sister. Other workers on the platform also confirmed seeing him off.
"Settle down, fellas. It can take days to find the right ride ta hitch with," the supervisor had said. "Ain't a lotta wheels goin' to Nebraska. Nothin' much ever goes on down there."
Top Cat wasn't having it; the cat ran all over the station, questioning everyone he knew if they'd seen anything, heard anything, but there was absolutely nothing to go on.
If T.C. 's instincts were right, and Choo-Choo had gotten on the train to take off somewhere without updating his sister, then he did it on purpose; he wanted to get going before Top Cat and the fellas caught on.
And that was driving T.C. crazy.
It was either that, or to consider the more terrifying possibility of something completely unexpected happening to the gentle pink feline, be it abduction, mugging, getting hurt in a foreign territory with no ally to help…
Dibble shook his head before his thoughts dragged him into a gutter. "I'll go tow 'im back by the tail before he keels over," he sighed dolefully. "He ain't gonna find anythin' more at the station."
The policeman wondered what Fancy was doing. He hadn't seen the brown tabby at all around the precinct since he took off out of the alley. He hoped he was alright. He hoped this ridiculous scuffle would be forgotten by morning, because it was clear as day that the fight - stupid as it was - really affected Brain.
"Don't ya worry about it, Brain," said Dibble, again trying to comfort the orange cat. "Both Choo-Choo an' Fancy will be back before you even know it. And so will Spook."
"..But T.C. sounded awful mad..he's never yelled at Fancy like that before.." said Brain quietly. "An'..'e.. an' he never told any of us to get out before–" the orange cat's voice warbled, and his eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"Hey, hey," said Dibble, running a hand over the cat's head soothingly. "T.C.'s just bein' an idiot. He doesn't mean any of it."
"That's right," said Benny, shaking the few wayward snowflakes that had come down during the night off his pelt and climbing onto the lid of the other trash can so he could huddle close to the orange cat. "You know T.C. would never do that."
Brain just looked miserable, and curled even further into his burrito so that only his ears were visible.
Dibble bade them goodbye and got back into his car, making it to Grand Central Station with the empty streets in less than ten minutes.
At such a late hour, the station was far less crowded than normal, but naturally there was still plenty of activity; trains from across the continent were just coming in. Parents coaxed their sleepy children down the thin steps while trying to handle their heavy luggage at the same time. Late-arrivers hurried along to get to their platforms on time. The ticket windows were only half-manned and the flooring was so much cleaner than it could ever be during the rush hours.
Dibble didn't need to search long. He strode to one of the ticket clerks. "Bill, ya seen Top Cat?"
"Yeah, he was with Aaron last I saw," said the man without looking up, counting the day's dollar bills, fingers flipping through the money stack faster than the eye could see. "We didn' want 'im wanderin' the streets in his state."
"Why, what's the matta with 'im?"
"Nothin'. Aaron thought it was a good idea to give 'im a good shot o' catnip."
"Again?" was the cop's cross bark. "What did I tell you guys about givin' catnip at night! It's dangerous!"
"Wasn' me, Officer. Take it to Aaron, he thinks the whole thing's funny."
"I'll show 'im funny," growled Dibble under his breath as he stomped towards the other side of the gates.
Within a few minutes he found his man, a janitor whistling a merry tune while turning his platform-mopping routine into a ridiculous little dance. "Hey! Aaron! A word with ya!"
The cleaner turned to look at the policeman, and gave a wave, grinning widely, knowing full well why Officer Dibble would be there at this late hour.
"Where is he?" demanded Dibble tiredly as soon as the man reached him.
"Don' wooorry, Officer. He's in my closet," said Aaron with a laugh, jabbing a thumb behind him vaguely.
Dibble didn't smile. "This isn't funny, Aaron. How many times have I told ya not to give anyone catnip this late? An' you know T.C.'s health ain' great right now."
"Gee, Dibble, no need to lay on the guilt, arright? I forgot," said Aaron, knowing full Dibble knew he didn't. "I mean come on, you gotta admit - cats look real funny when they're high–" he trailed off at Dibble's murderous expression. "Look, I felt bad for 'im, okay! I gave 'im some and didn' even want any money. The fella was beside 'imself I couldn' just watch an' do nothing. I ain' reckless, okay? I wasn' gonna let 'im leave like that so I kept 'im safe inside till he comes down."
Soon they were at Aaron's cleaning closet. The janitor pulled out a massive chain of no less than two dozen keys from his large pocket and slipped the key in. The door opened with a creak into the small space where only a very dim, soft little bulb hung overhead.
The cat in question was practically splayed against the wall. Limbs spread out, Top Cat looked like he hadn't moved from that position in a while. He was staring at the empty air.
"Sorry, 'twas a hard shot," said the janitor, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Just holler if ya need me."
Dibble sighed and kneeled down next to the yellow cat. T.C sluggishly tilted his head to look up at him, pupils blown wide. He took the cat's chin and peered carefully into his eyes. Rather than scream at him, like before, the cop simply asked. "Where's the rest of it?"
Top Cat, clumsily, motioned towards the nearby ridiculous-looking pot Aaron seemed to think looked good; Dibble just thought it looked like a confusing mache of a three-legged giraffe made by his kid or something. He peered inside and collected the rest of the plant.
While he was relieved that the fellas at the station were keeping their eye out for the yellow cat, and while he was extremely relieved Top Cat wasn't doing anything harder than catnip, the fact that he did at all was upsetting.
Top Cat greatly valued his mental sharpness - relied on it. To be overwhelmed to the point of feeling the need to use the plant…
"T.C., you're comin' with me to the station. We're gonna file a missing person's report for Choo-Choo."
Despite being so out of it, T.C. 's glazed expression stayed on Dibble; the minute shake of his head, the worried look in his eyes was what Dibble expected.
Once again, Top Cat didn't want to get the police involved in any of his boys' disappearance.
"This time it's different," said Dibble gently. "Choo-Choo ain't in any gang's business," and even if he is..he thought to himself. "Ya can't do all of this by yaself...it'll crush ya."
They had come a long way, Dibble felt. Hoped.
His mind took him back to the day he finally found out what was going on with the gang. He thought of how Top Cat kept fighting and fighting until he practically had to be forced by their entire goddamn neighborhood to accept their help.
To know that he and his friends meant a lot to many people, that they were seen, even by those he never really thought would come through for him.
Patiently, Dibble waited. Top Cat leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. And finally nodded.
oOoOoOoOoOo
đź•” 08:00 am
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Dibble loved his job. He really did, he loved the good parts of it so much it made the bad parts tolerable.
He considered himself lucky, too - in all his years on the force, he'd known his colleagues to be nothing less than brave, dedicated officers with unwavering integrity. They trusted and respected each other, even if they didn't always agree on an approach. Dibble knew most other people were not so fortunate. He was proud to be one of them.
That was why the unpleasant conversation with his superior officer was still fresh and heavy on his mind. It was like a crack in his mirror, and the idealist in him didn't want to accept that the mirror was no longer perfect. It was like peeking under a flawless oriental rug for the very first time, only to realize there was a trapdoor hiding a skeleton underneath.
He'd really expressed it succinctly - Bristol did - when he'd said that as long as the system was the way it was, there would always be people who end up falling through the cracks; one wrong decision could change someone's life. One second could be all it takes for someone to live or die.
And it was when Dibble decided to do something he wouldn't typically do, and that's to use his cop privilege to skip the mind-numbing bureaucracy and speed up filing Choo-Choo's report that he was faced with another grim symptom of a systemic bias he was never even aware of.
A human could file a missing report for another human within less than 24 hours of their disappearance.
For an alley cat?
Ten days.
So that was why, in quite an un-Dibble-like fashion, the police officer decided they were going to…omit a couple facts to get around it.
"Remember - don' mention he didn't tell his sister when he's arrivin'," Dibble had whispered to the cat as he steered a still-hesitant T.C. up the steps to the station house. "An' play up that whole vulnerability thing - play it up like there's no tomorrow. The department's already overwhelmed an' if we don' file this as a priority, it's just gonna get pushed."
Crime in New York did not stop or lessen any just because the mayor's daughter was abducted; the station was incredibly busy - it looked like the entire force was in.
Policemen rushed by in the corridors. Investigators spoke urgently over the phone to demand specific pieces of evidence from the custodians. Some poor dispatcher with owlish eyes looked like he wanted to burst into exhausted tears at his desk when the phone rang for what must have been the hundredth time in a couple hours. All over the station, the phones just didn't stop ringing.
"Well, well, if it ain't the missing link himself!" joked Detective Bristol as he quickly passed them down the hallway. "Been a while, Top Cat."
"Hey, Jack. We need to file a missing person's report-" started Dibble.
"I won't be long. Get clearance from the Sarge while I get back," the detective said distractedly as he disappeared with another officer behind a set of huge, metal doors.
Sergeant Murphy was in his office, and he looked like he had not even left since the night before. Again. The man's exhaustion and stress were palpable, and his short fuse and snappish response showed it.
"Alley cats disappear and then show up all the time, Dibble," said the Sergeant curtly, sounding like he found Dibble's request preposterous. "They're alley cats, it's what they do - if ya file a report for every one that takes off for a while we'd never get any work done! Sorry, Top Cat," he turned towards the yellow feline. "But you're an alley cat - you oughta know this better than me!"
"With all due respect, Sergeant, I resent that notion," said Top Cat. "Assumin' all cats are the same is as illogical as it is prejudiced. It would be unacceptable to make the same statement about any other citizen of this city, would it not?"
"That..uh..wasn't my intention at all, sorry if it came across this way," said Murphy, looking a little taken aback but still bemused by the whole thing. Dibble kept his face perfectly neutral when the sergeant glanced at him, as if looking for some kind of hint on what to do next. "Is this fella uh, does he typically not travel? Does he have some kinda medical issue..? There's gotta be somethin' urgent to be able to file this thing before the ten-day wait is up."
"He's..," Top Cat said with difficulty, like he was betraying his friend by divulging the fact. "..he's declawed. He's vulnerable."
Murphy just stared at him, utterly confused. "..So?"
Top Cat looked affronted. "Sir, please don' tell me you're unaware of how an alley cat without 'is claws is viewed! An' there are some merciless people out there. He's vulnerable like I said an' someone could take advantage of that! Please don' force me to explain any further, this is beyond humiliating."
Dibble thought the sergeant just didn't want to embarrass himself with his ignorance any further, so, still looking befuddled, the man acquiesced and gave over the signed form to take to Bristol to begin the process.
As soon as the paper was in Dibble's hand, he and the cat were out the door. Sergeant Murphy watched them go, too exhausted and overwhelmed by everything - not excluding possibly losing his position to some bootlicker from the mayor's side of things, to really understand whatever Top Cat was saying.
"I'll never understand these alley cats," Murphy mumbled to himself. "Really, Charlie, my respect for tryna deal with whatever this is on the daily.."
oOoOoOoOoOo
"Jack's my direct superior, he's gotta issue the alert for us," explained Dibble as he pushed the door open to the busy bullpen. "That way we can get others on the search, an' even arrange with the cops in Chicago to help us."
As soon as they stepped into the large room, Top Cat recognized a few faces and voices right away; there had to have been at least twelve cops in the vicinity. A massive bulletin board stood to the left, covered in scribbles and dozens upon dozens of pinned pictures of faces, places and weapons. Various threads of different colors cross-crossed like a spider web across the whole thing.
Manohan, along with five other policemen stood around it, looking over every scrap of detail, trying to see things from different angles. The pins kept going in and coming off. One of the men made a frustrated sound as he reluctantly removed a few elements from the board, leaving a miserable hole where a potential lead turned out to be nothing yet again.
"Heya, Top Cat," one police officer, Riddler, greeted as he stood pulling papers from a dossier so large it looked about to explode. "Why ya here - don' tell me you're up ta somethin' again, hah! But ey..congrats on winnin' the case. Heard all about it."
Top Cat looked taken aback. He made a noncommittal noise, looking uncomfortable, and slinked away.
"He still never talks about that whole thing," whispered Dibble. "He just wishes we'd all collectively forget it ever happened."
"Interestin'. You'd think he'd be relieved this whole mess is finally gonna be addressed, but I guess there's a lot goin' on we're unaware of. Bear in mind, he probably thinks we'll be scrutinizin' him more closely, now. He ain't wrong, not everyone here sees 'im like you an' me. It's like what my ole Pops used to say, everyone's out there fightin' their own battle, Charlie."
Bristol still wasn't back from the evidence locker, and so rather than confine the cat to a chair, Dibble decided to just let him roam around the bullpen.
He supposed all cats were naturally curious, and Top Cat was no exception. And since T.C. usually behaved himself - somewhat - whenever Dibble brought him to the station house in the past, he thought it wouldn't be a problem to let him socialize for a bit, maybe even ask some questions. Perhaps it would take his mind off things, if only for a few moments.
The cat watched the officers as they went to and fro - moving and adding elements to the bulletin. They gathered around one of the lieutenants Top Cat had never interacted with before while they considered how some clues could be a part of the bigger picture.
Dibble noticed T.C's ears perk sharply at some of their comments once or twice, but when he asked him if there was anything that was said that could be a useful hint - or in stride with G.P. 's methods - the cat just shook his head. Seeing the police run around themselves on that board couldn't have been easy on the cat, for after a few good minutes of listening in, Top Cat just padded away, expression troubled.
"Babysittin' the local sneak again, Dibble?" said Manson, brushing past Dibble with a sour look. "What's he doin' in here? You know you're not supposed to bring anyone in 'ere. An' him? Of all people?"
"Relax, we're just here for a missin' person's report," said Dibble through gritted teeth. While he wouldn't say he disliked Manson, he didn't like him either. "I'll get it from Jack and we'll be out. An' by the way - he's good, he's been cleared."
"So I've heard, so I've heard," was the sneer as the cop strutted away.
On the other side of the bullpen was Mahoney. Ever since Dibble and Top Cat walked in, he had not said anything and had not even looked up from what he was doing - pouring over a map so large it was spread across three desks, with its edge dragging on the floor.
Dibble realized Mahoney wasn't exaggerating when he said Top Cat didn't like him; as he stood with his colleague to get up to speed on some things, Top Cat ignored their corner completely. Instead, he went to inspect the smaller bulletin board standing behind Bristol's empty desk.
The yellow feline was looking at the photos pinned to the board when Dibble finally came over. "Where's that?"
"It's an old abandoned warehouse on the 18th. There was a gas explosion, the whole buildin' came down. Takin' a whole bunch of homeless people with it. Tragic…oh thank goodness, it's Bauer. Where the heck were ya."
As the room filled with greetings, the cat turned to watch the arrival everyone was so glad to see cross the bullpen towards the congregation of policemen.
Bauer was tall - 6 foot 6 going on 7, one of the tallest humans Top Cat had ever come across. He looked like he could be right at home at the fire station, what with his broad shoulders, steady gait and dark complexion.
He regarded the cat with a kind smile as he passed by. "I'm very glad to see you up and about, Little Mister. The rumors were true, you're a tough little one."
Top Cat watched him carry a large duffel bag over to the empty desk next to Bristol's. "The heck is that comedian?" he grumbled.
"That 'comedian'..." came Mahoney's voice from behind them. Both Dibble and Top Cat turned around to see the redhead cop still pouring over the large map of New York. He didn't look up at the cat. ".. is the one who literally made sure ya blood stayed inside ya long enough to make it to the hospital."
Top Cat scowled, looking like the policeman's voice grated on his very being. The cat looked behind him up at Dibble, as if asking if it's true. Dibble nodded.
And when Riddler came over to check with him on some details from the 13th precinct and whether there's been anything else that could be added to the list of evidence, Dibble kept T.C. in the corner of his eyes, and was glad to see the cat actually go up to Bauer and mumble a thanks.
"How's the stitching? May I look?" the medic cop spoke in his deep baritone, eyes crinkled in a smile.
Top Cat just kind of shrugged, looking almost unsure. Although he was a giant of a man, especially up close, his fingers were surprisingly feather-light; he inspected the cat's stitching and ultimately nodded his acceptance of the hospital team's 'clean work'. "You should keep the stitching covered for a little while longer, though. The hospital brace ain't comfortable, I know. Here."
The man pulled a cotton-component gauze from one of his drawers. Deftly, he wrapped it around the cat's throat with surprising speed, leaving no taper. "Better, right? And this material won't itch at all."
He then gave the cat's forehead a few expertly-placed scratches, right between the eyebrows. It took no longer than a couple of seconds, the man obviously didn't want to encroach, before he stood up and went to join the police officers on the other side of the bullpen. Top Cat watched him stride away, before walking back to Dibble, looking torn between embarrassment and almost-disappointment that it didn't go a little longer.
Dibble nearly exploded trying to keep his face from breaking into a grin. "That ain't fair, how come I get sworn at when I frisk ya for raffle tickets?"
"'Coz I really appreciate ya vulture claws rakin' over my sensitive skin, Dribble," the cat clapped back without missing a beat.
"Why, you-"
"At least someone in this sad buildin' understands a cat's anatomy."
"Yeah, I'll bet. He's a doc before a cop. He's bounda know what's good."
"Make way, make way!" ordered Bristol as he finally came back into the room with the other investigator. Between them they carried a large white sheet that looked like a solid wide gurney. Sitting on top of the thing was a collection of burned, broken items.
"That's all the evidence we got so far?" asked one of the cops as they gathered around.
"Almost everythin', but check that ol' car battery, Manohan - see if you can match it with any of the pictures. Dibble, you check the serials on these welding tools. It's possible some of them may have been bought from a Wilson's. Mahoney, update us - anythin' yet on that lead in -"
A blur of yellow shot in between the forest of legs.
"Move it!" Top Cat pushed Bristol out of the way carelessly, and all but dove at the burnt pile of things.
Dibble's vexed shout died on his lips immediately at the look of confused horror blooming on the cat's face as he dragged one item from underneath a mess of half-melted alloys.
"That - that's-!" Top Cat's voice was abruptly cut off as if all the air was sapped out of his lungs.
"What is it?!"
"That's Spook's sax!" he cried. "That's Spook's sax! Why do you have it?"
Dibble whipped his head to his fellow officers; their expressions ranged from the baffled to the concerned. Mahoney, however, looked as stunned as he was.
"...It was a hideout," breathed the redhead.
"What are you talking about?" shouted Top Cat, distressed at the lack of an answer. Mahoney simply strode over his head distractedly, running back towards the map. "Ey! I'm askin' a question!"
The thing in Top Cat's paws was badly broken and misshapen, splattered with grime and dried blood. Top Cat's aghast face just kept going from the instrument to the policemen surrounding him. "Why do you have this..? What've you done-?"
Never mind that Dibble had no idea how Spook's saxophone was inside an abandoned exploded building, he had never seen Top Cat look so betrayed, so angry and so terrified all at once. "What've you done?" he asked again, voice hollow. But Dibble knew what kind of hollow that was - T.C. was boiling; going from the constant stress over Spook being missing for months to suddenly picking out one of his possessions out of a bloody heap of mangled, burned items.
"Did you - did y-" he clapped a paw to his mouth abruptly, stomach turning and the color rapidly draining from his face. He stumbled back, and nearly tripped if it weren't for Dibble's quickly steadying his shoulders.
"Hey, hey, stay with me! Deep breaths."
The large bullpen suddenly felt claustrophobic, unbearable, like all the air had run out. Top Cat looked around him like a deer caught in the headlights - fourteen cops stood all around him wearing various expressions from confusion, to reservedness, to impatience. He then whirled around, looking across the room at Mahoney through the forest of long human legs, eyes wide as saucers. Dibble realized Top Cat was distraught; he was coming to all sorts of horrible conclusions.
This was going downhill fast. It was a massive step forward, making T.C. come willingly to the station; it couldn't end this way - this was not why he brought him here.
"T.C., listen to me. I looked over the reports and the photos. Spook wasn't there," said Dibble.
"This is the first real clue in over eight weeks," Manohan finally said after the stunned silence, hardly believing their luck. "The place was a hideout?! Mahoney, whaddya make o' this?"
"Yeah, man! Check if there's a pattern. We got any other cases? Maybe closer to the 24th?" another young cop asked excitedly.
The flurry of movement, excitement and loud voices took through the room like a small storm, all while the yellow cat remained exactly where he was, still in shock.
"T.C., please say somethin'. Did ya hear what I said?"
The cat's pelt was shaking, still holding onto the instrument like an anchor.
As Mahoney ran back excitedly towards them, it seemed to snap Top Cat out of his horrified stupor. He backed up until his back was fully against Dibble's leg, and wrapped both arms around the saxophone like he expected the red-headed cop to descend on him and rip it from his grasp.
Dibble couldn't exactly see from his vantage point, but the look on Top Cat's face must've been something, because Mahoney abruptly stopped before getting too close, and raised his hands placatingly. "I swear, I'm only tryna help. Sometimes I work on this case, too. Please just..let's put our differences aside for now until we catch this criminal."
That only made the cat's fur stand on end even more. He seemed to heave, unable to take a breath. Dibble could feel coiled tension rippling through Top Cat's entire skinny body. What alarmed Dibble most was the fact that he was still speechless, not saying a word, and the cop became certain that the cat couldn't open his mouth lest his self-control completely betray him.
"Top Cat, I swear to God I had nothin' to do with whatever you think I did," said Mahoney as reassuringly as he could.
Still keeping his hands on T.C. 's shoulders, Dibble gave Mahoney a look, silently telling him to withdraw, and the redhead got the message. Dibble walked around so the cat was looking at him instead of his colleague. "This wasn't a raid; that's all stuff from the warehouse I told ya about. Spook wasn't there. I looked at the pictures. He wasn't."
It could mean Spook's been already dead for a while, the pessimist in him thought.
But it could also mean that he'd somehow escaped, argued back the sentimental voice.
"That warehouse could possibly have been one of G.P.'s hideouts..this could be a real breakthrough, T.C. Now the investigators are gonna look through everythin' from a completely different perspective."
Top Cat was staring sightlessly at the floor, still trying to get air into his lungs. He held tighter onto the instrument.
"..Ya bein' straight with me, Dibble?" he finally said softly, pleadingly.
"I swear."
"The blood..?"
"It's not his."
"Men, gather 'round!" Bristol said loudly as he strode back to his desk, bringing the excited talking around the bullpen to an eager quiet. "Charlie, you too.
"Listen up - with this new information, I'll be headin' back to the site with Michael and Lt. Martinez and the guys from forensics as soon as we're done here. There are a few things we need to check out, and while we're at it I want y'all to get the info I just highlighted here, here and here. Split the earth ta find it if ya have ta. An' now, who's gonna go in with the dumb cluck with this revelation?"
"Ya still have any hope he'll speak?" Riddler asked incredulously as other cops groaned in the background.
"We're here doin' everythin' we can do, Michael. Wrap up the evidence an' number everythin', and see if there's any of it we can show 'im that might elicit a response. At this point, I'll consider that freak sneezing a revelation."
"I'm takin' this," said Top Cat resolutely as soon as one of the cops dared look his way. "I'm keepin' it for Spook when he comes back."
"Absolutely not. This is evidence, not a souvenir," said Bristol shortly. "Give it back to Dibble."
"I ain't givin' back nothin'! This ain't ya ticket for a promotion, ya heartless tool! It's Spook's sax!" exploded Top Cat, stepping back. He held the saxophone tight to his chest as if daring anyone to try and pull it from him.
Bristol spluttered, looking both stunned and outraged by the cat's insult. Mahoney kept this face carefully expressionless, conveniently hiding his mouth behind a folder. Bauer just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and looked on with all the calmness of a man watching his kids playing in a park.
"I'm sorry, T.C. Ya can't get this back right now. It's evidence for the case-"
"I said I ain't givin' it," hissed the cat.
Bristol stared incredulously at the cat, then at Dibble, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, or that Dibble was okay with the cat talking to him like that.
"I told y'all he shouldn' be in here in the first place," sneered Manson, giving Dibble a condescending look. The fur on Top Cat's tail stood on end.
But before Bristol could say anything more, Mahoney leaned over and whispered something into his ear. Every pair of eyes in the room was on the two men, waiting with baited breath to see what the lead investigator was going to decide.
Mahoney stood back and crossed his arms, face unreadable. Bristol leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands locked in front of his face, and looked at the cat thoughtfully. Then said:
"I tell you what. An' know I don't ever do this - speak to that Saber character, and you can keep the saxophone."
"You can't be serious!" snapped Manson.
"It's my responsibility. If the Sarge asks, you all have my permission to blame it on me. What do you think, Lieutenant?"
"Imma commit a crime right now if it means we finally get this ball rollin," said Lt. Martinez shamelessly.
"Wh- sir-!"
"Then we're on the same page. Alright, Top Cat. I want you to talk with that Saber character. No one's been able to get a useful thing outta the guy. But now that we know his boss's hideout went kablooey, an' we got the evidence to prove it, maybe we can finally get somewhere."
The lieutenant pulled out a Polaroid picture from a folder and showed it to the cat. "That's the guy. Recognize 'im?"
"I know of 'im. Never seen nor talked to 'im."
"See if ya can get 'im to talk. Maybe seein' ya will put 'im in the mood."
"If he's as stupid as you say, then he won' have anythin' worth sharin'. G.P. wouldn't share anythin' with a guy like that."
"Poke 'im a bit. Who knows? Maybe one dumb little comment will make all the difference."
oOoOoOoOoOo
"..Y'all look like a buncha eager schoolboys," said Lt. Martinez with a rueful smile as he strolled into the observation room, shutting the door behind him. "Shouldn't they be back on their beats by now?"
"Don' pretend ya ain't as excited," smirked Riddler from his position, leaning cross-armed against the wall. They watched their lower-ranking colleagues crowd behind the two-way mirror looking into the interrogation room. Manson stood to the side, still seething, glaring holes through the glass.
Saber was hunched over the table in the interrogation room like a hyena, his paws handcuffed to the surface.
Bristol walked in with Top Cat, and motioned for him to take the seat facing the large yellow cat while he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall a couple feet away, just outside of the criminal's line of sight, silently observing.
Saber barely looked up, then did a comical double take upon seeing the cat sat across from him. For a moment, he looked completely stunned. Then, to the observing policemen's shock, the large cat began to laugh, as if the sight of the yellow cat was the funniest thing in the world.
"Boss is right," hooted Saber. "You really are like a cockroach."
"Yeah, I know I'm a handful," sneered Top Cat humorlessly.
"Wait..this isn't the first time G.P. tried to kill him?" whispered Manohan. Dibble looked back at him, just as clueless. Beside them, Mahoney was rapidly writing in his notepad. Bauer towered over his partner's shoulder, observing the cats' body language intently.
"As fate would have it, Mister Top Cat had come in today for a completely unrelated reason," said Bristol, walking slowly, purposefully around the large, striped yellow cat, getting in his personal space. "..and whadya know - he recognizes a friend's possession pulled out from an old warehouse. The whole place's come down, by the way. A whole lot of ya friends are dead, too."
He placed the ruined saxophone on the table between the two cats.
Saber's gleam of recognition at the sight of the instrument was repugnant; he leaned back into his chair and lifted his eyes to the yellow cat with a sadistic grin, his long canines shining yellow under the room's unflattering light.
"I missed a lot wit me in here," was all the cat said in mock-regret.
"Let me fill ya in, then. Ya boss's hideout was on the 18th, we know that for a fact. An explosion took down the entire building, and about thirty people are dead." he slipped a photo in front of the cat's face. "Recognize this one?"
"Was one of 'em a green cat?" said Saber nastily, ignoring the photo completely and tilting his head to look straight into Top Cat's eyes.
"Answer the question," said Bristol sharply. "This one of ya friends?"
"Frainds? I don' consider no one frainds in that place," laughed Saber, as if he found the cop's words ridiculous. "You don' get good wit the Boss by bein' 'frainds'."
"How does one join his gang, then?"
But Saber had no interest in the man speaking to him; his eyes would not leave Top Cat's. He almost seemed delighted, as if this was the chance encounter he only ever imagined in his fantasies.
"'Tis differain for each one," he spoke directly to the cat sitting in front of him, as if Bristol was empty air. "He asks every new one for somethain to do. A test of loyalty. Somethain' nasty. If they don'...well, you pink fraind was one of the lucky ones."
Top Cat was rigid in his seat, face dark with anger, ears spread to the sides.
"That's a revelation in itself," murmured Riddler, expression intense but troubled. "This opens a cornucopia of doors..too many doors."
"This is how none of the crimes are ever traced back to G.P.," said Lt. Martinez, sounding both impressed and disgusted. "That way there's no MO, no pattern between crimes, and no defining clues. What a bastard."
Mahoney's hand was flying across the paper like he couldn't get the words on there fast enough. He wrote as he observed the cats with rapt, unblinking attention, sharply hushing anyone whose voice rose more than whisper.
"..Wanna know what Spook's test was?"
Top Cat was so angry he was baring his teeth. His fur stood on end and the look in his eyes made his golden irises uncharacteristically, scarily cold.
"Heard about that incidin' in the Bronx back in June? The lil ole man who was sawed inta six paeces an' shoved into a toy box? The one they found floatin' in the Harlem river."
"You're a liar," snarled Top Cat with disgust. "He can't stand to be anywhere near the sound of power tools."
Saber roared with laughter. He laughed so loud, so raucously even Bristol was startled. "You ain' easy as you look at all, are ya! You got me, you got me - 'e didn' do it; you fraind is the laziest, most insubordinate bum that's ever joined our ranks-!" he chortled, hardly able to take a breath from laughing so hard. "Neva did anythain the Boss told 'im to. But he kept 'im around for a while - Stubborn Spooky was an exception, an' Boss wanted info. Last chance he gave 'im was to take that little blue cat. Still didn' do it, an' I'm the one in here because of it.
"Guess the Boss finally got bored an' realized he was more trouble than it's worth. Tol' the valuable ones to clear out an' left Stubborn Spooky behind with the rest."
"With the rest?" said Bristol sharply.
Saber looked annoyed, as if being reminded of the existence of the police officer when he just wanted to screw with the yellow cat in front of him in peace was ruining the mood.
"If you useless to 'im, you only got youself to blame. If you make a mistake, if the coppers are on you scent, he's gonna get rid of ya."
"He'll kill his own men if he thinks the police are getting close," said Bauer solemnly, sounding sad. Dibble had no words, no one did; everyone was silent.
"So..is he dead?" pressed Saber eagerly, motioning towards the saxophone, enjoying the look of pure rage in Top Cat's eyes.
"I think we're done here," said Bristol, not really doing much to hide his revulsion. He laid a hand on the yellow feline's tense shoulder - both a steadying and a warning; Dibble was glad his superior realized that Top Cat was in an unnatural state of anger and this needed to be over quickly. "We got more important things to do."
Bristol pressed on Top Cat's shoulder more tightly, and finally the cat got off the chair and let the detective lead him towards the door.
"..Baen a pleasure. Neva thought I'd be the one to deliver it, but lemmae tell you one lass thain," said Saber languidly. "You Auntie says hi. She says since you loved the casserole she made you lass time, she gonna make you a few more. As many as necessary till you finally get it."
Top Cat's body moved like a coil; ears flat against his head, he whirled around, fur on end, eyes searing, and nearly sprang at the larger cat of it weren't for Bristol's reflexes. He grabbed the cat by the back of his collar and stirred him bodily towards the door as Saber laughed and laughed.
Dibble was at the door as soon as Top Cat was pushed out and the door shut again. "Calm down, T.C.!"
The cat was seething, fur on end, tail bristling uncontrollably and adrenaline running high. He could hear the hissing under the angry, heavy breaths. Top Cat whirled around at the door again, as if considering breaking his way through it.
"Hey, I said calm down, you ain't gonna let this lowlife get to ya," said Dibble, putting a hand on the cat's head and pushing down.
It took a few moments, but when Top Cat eventually got himself together the first thing he said was a curt, barely-restrained, "Get me the sax from inside, Dibble."
"I will, don' worry about that. Talk to me, what was that last bit-?"
"I don' wanna talk about it," the cat said shortly.
"This just now was a big deal, T.C. All of it. This is gonna change things. Please, don' hold out on me now."
"..it was a message. From G.P," said Top Cat.
"Guys, give us a minute," Dibble said, motioning for his curious colleagues who were trying to listen in to stay back. Like everyone, Mahoney respectfully kept his distance, though looking like he was positively dying.
Dibble turned back to the yellow cat. "How did you know what it meant? I thought ya said you never met this character? How did ya understand the message?"
"I live on the streets, Dibble. I get around. I know what words mean."
"What did he say?"
"He threatened my boys," said Top Cat finally, looking away.
There was more, Dibble knew it, but Top Cat wasn't saying. The door opened again and Bristol strode out, saxophone in hand. He was about to speak, but Dibble motioned for him to hold on. "An' he was referrin' to somethin' that happened between you and G.P. in the past, wasn' he?" Dibble asked, trying to keep the momentum going before he lost the cat's thinning cooperation completely. "T.C…has he hurt someone you care about before?"
Top Cat didn't answer, and that was enough of an answer for Dibble.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"- I asked 'im directly, if Saber was referrin' to somethin' that happened between 'im and G.P. He refused to say anythin' about it."
"You really shoulda let me question 'im myself," said Bristol. "I trust ya, Charlie, and I ain't gonna get involved in ya personal relationships with the citizens on ya beat, but we're at a point here where you're more his babysitter than the precinct officer. Ask him questions. Press."
Dibble ignored the embarrassed heat rising in his face. "He wouldn've said anythin' more, Jack. I know him, he woulda only clammed up more." Bristol just sighed. "You saw - once the report was done he couldn't wait to get outta here."
They were back in Bristol's own office, reviewing everything one last time before the detective headed back to the warehouse - Dibble, Mahoney, Bauer, Riddler, and the lieutenant.
"I think Dibble's right on the money," said Bauer calmly, turning to address his surprised colleague directly. "Whatever was said, I don't think it had anything to do with this case; it was a personal message. I was observing, and it was clear from his body language - he was recalling a memory. And from the sounds of it, a morbid one. I agree with not pushing - the door needs to stay open."
"Say, what do we know about his father?" asked Mahoney suddenly.
"I haven't looked into 'im yet," admitted Dibble.
"Talk to Daisy. She was their social worker, she might help," said Bristol. "He alive or deceased?"
"I think he's dead," said Dibble, recalling back the night with Top Cat on the Brooklyn Bridge. "..I think he might've killed himself."
Mahoney blinked, surprised. "What makes you think that? Did he say it outright?"
"No. He said..lemme see..he said the Bridge was the last place he saw 'im...when he was seven."
"Hmm. If the father died with them so young, I don't see how he can be in any way involved. Do you?" asked Bristol.
"..If he was only seven when their father died, that would make G.P. around eleven at the time," pointed out Mahoney. "The cert's G.P.'s, after all. Top Cat is actually four years younger than what everyone thought."
"Both would be still just kittens," shrugged Riddler.
"I'll talk to Daisy, an' go to the archives as soon as I'm able, find out whatever I can about 'im," promised Dibble. "I gotta get back to my beat."
"Yeah, me too."
"Get goin'. I'll see ya all here later tonight," said Bristol, putting on his jacket.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Top Cat was sitting on the lid of his trash can when Dibble returned. Checking in on him, he saw that the cat was carefully cleaning the saxophone and working out the grime from under the keys.
"..Why did he take the saxophone with 'im, if he thought he was just in an' out for a job?" asked Dibble. It truly was odd, finding a saxophone of all things in a place like that after months of nothing.
"I guess it was for sentimental reasons," said Top Cat. "To remember why he shouldn' stay long. You know we all chipped in the parts so he could build it?"
"Really? Like you guys collected the individual pieces to build it?"
"Well, it's not like we had any money for a store-bought. An' Spook's always wanted a sax."
"I think it's a wonderful gift."
"Well, he'd feel terrible if he saw it in this state, so it's gotta be like new for when he comes back," was the cat's aloof response.
Dibble had half a thought to try and ask T.C. again about the rest of that encrypted message, but in the end, he refrained. He knew Bristol would be disappointed if he saw him now, but he didn't want to push it. The things they'd learned from G.P. 's henchman today were important, if only to put into perspective how dangerous G.P. really was.
Not to mention, he had no doubt that the fact that one of Top Cat's friends was joined up with G.P.'s gang was going to spread amongst his colleagues like wildfire. It used to be just him and Mahoney who knew. Bristol did, too, but Dibble had never told him the full story. There was no hiding it anymore, now, and he was sure Bristol was going to grill him on the details soon.
Bauer was probably right, Dibble believed; whatever was in that message to Top Cat was personal and cruel. It was meant to dig up old skeletons - to unsettle. To hurt.
He also had no doubt that the knowledge that one of Top Cat's friends was joined up with G.P.'s gang was going to spread amongst his colleagues like wildfire. It used to be just him and Mahoney who knew. Bristol did too, technically, but Dibble had never told him the full story. There was no putting that genie back in the bottle now, and he was sure Bristol was going to grill him on the unpleasant details soon.
But Dibble had to stay optimistic that once the investigators got on the job and started looking at previous events and clues differently, they may begin to see a usable pattern - something they could work with.
He saw Brain and Benny on the other side of the road, putting up the Missing posters with a picture of Choo-Choo's endearing smile. Several neighbors passing by decided to stop and help.
Often Dibble wondered if his sentimentalism was a gift or a curse, especially in this line of work. And yet, he still couldn't imagine being anything else.
oOoOoOoOoOo
14-6-2024 A/N: *Mahoney humming the Law & Order theme under his breath while he works~* /
FINALLY, Chapter 12's here after a long hiatus.
As those of you who've been with this story from the beginning know, I paused updates in 2018 after Chapter 11, and have been overwhelmed with other projects, deadlines and life events since. I'm still swamped ngl, but I didn't want to postpone this any longer. I literally put off and/or cancelled other things to focus on this.
I LOVE writing for this story - and you can tell - but due to my commitments I don't know if I can justify updating as often as I'd like if no one is reading this story anymore.
It's been quite a long time, so most people have already moved on. However, if you're still interested, you gotta let me know. Engage so I can gauge if I should keep writing - or if I should just focus on other projects.