“Well, evidence led me to conclude several things upon inspection. One piece of evidence was that there was no murder at all here in this building.” Barker tried to gauge the faces of those around the table, but they showed no emotion. It was all the response he needed, however.
Vivian Herms stayed unnaturally quiet.
“I witnessed your dead Giver, three days ago now, leaving the dry cleaners downstairs. It would be quite hard to walk with the unfortunate case of being dead he was supposedly suffering from,” Barker paused to fix his collar, “It was easy to see that the closet where this supposed murder occurred was retrofitted to seem like an evidence bay, but you forgot to dirty up the boxes. It would seem like the first thing you would have done, but nevertheless. It wasn’t the ultimate clue. The ultimate clue was the picture folder. The angle of the knife cuts did not match the blood splatter, and the face matched a man who I knew to be alive.”
Barker stopped pacing, which he had not even noticed he started. Now, he stood, staring right into the eyes of the Director of Rescue, Vivian Herms. She stood stoically still. The others at the table did not meet the gaze of his eyes.
“That isn’t the most damning thing about this whole charade though, is it, Mrs. Herms?”
Vivian Herms shook her head and put on a smile.
“They said you were good, Mr. Barker, but I had to assume they were just tooting horns. You have not disappointed, however. The board here is willing to offer you a place at Rescue due to your particular set of skills.”
Barker interrupted.
“You assume that after trying to play the world’s worst trick upon me that I would harbor any desire to attach myself to the name of Rescue?”
Vivian looked to start with her reply, but Barker held up his paw.
“That isn’t all. Vivian, I know that this isn’t Rescue headquarters. The place is a dump. I know that the detectives out there aren’t detectives they couldn’t act their way out of a wet paper bag. These board members may as well be cardboard cutouts. The only thing real here is you and that purple rhino who invited me.”
Vivian’s smile faded, “Well, you are good aren’t you?”
Barker nodded his head. “I am the best, I would brag further, but I am no longer interested in this acting. Instead, I will assume you had a point for all of this and allow you a moment to gather your thoughts, before letting me in on the whole story.”
Mrs. Herms gave a subtle clap, “Even I am impressed. I have worked with some of the world’s best detectives over my time as Director, I am not sure they would have had the wherewithal to figure this out so quickly, or maybe they would have just lacked the gall to call us out in such a manner. Either way, kudos to you, Mr. Barker, you are correct in the assessment on all fronts.” Vivian walked over to an empty chair and sat down. “You all can leave now, your checks will be deposited into the accounts as arranged prior.” The council of actors stood and left the room, leaving Barker and Herms alone.
“Please do sit, Mr. Barker,” Herms said and pulled a folder from under the table.
Barker yearned for that cushion on his backside, so he sat. He didn’t do it to please anyone but himself, or at least that was his own personal excuse for the act.
“Have you ever heard of the group The Shock?”
The Adventures of Vulpecula
Episode Three
The Laugh Track
Italina is home to the Malane Museum, filled with decorative tapestries and fancy silverware, the whole twenty-seven feet. Not only that, but visitors and citizens also flocked to the Sanchi Tower. (Flock, an unfortunate word, as one time, Vulpecula recalled reading about a bird-brained eagle flying that flew right into it… A story for a different time.) It was known for Ollie's Abil, a terrific and decadently scrumptious eating establishment famous for sushi and pasta.
That's what Italina is, a fancy and romantic setting.
Meanwhile, however, Acera strives as the exact opposite of that. Laid-back and with a live and let live attitude. Hot-weather almost all year around, Acera is where Vulpecula, Apus, and Lacerta hang their hats at night. (or scarves, a green one for Vulpecula, meanwhile, the other two didn't have the bravado for any trademark looks. Lacerta sometimes would shed his skin, and V would joke about wearing it and acting out his favorite scenes from an old eighties horror called The Laugh Track.)
That was Acera. But as the Taxi-Driver sped onward, over the speed-limit to keep with the flow of oncoming traffic, Vulpecula wondered what Urgway was known for.
Everything about it felt dark and gloomy, a dreary atmosphere that made it feel like a dark-cloud was cast over them. V perched his chin over his Shenai Stick, the top of his head leaned up against the back of the driver's head rest.
The city shouldn't have been that big a departure from others, but it was. It wasn't what was done, but how it was done, and it felt like everything had a gray-scale layer gleamed over it. Even the street lights shined with a certain bleak disparity.
The industrial world. The crime filled slums. That's the legacy Urgway had for itself.
That and the Water Lily, some kind-of religious artifact that had meaning at some time or another but had since been forgotten by most other major cities.
The Canes Vinatici had been stopped all those years ago, but the residual effects laid wasteland foundations. Vulpecula had no interests in religion. Interest in the religious, but not the subject-matter.
Urgway was a town built on shoddy frameworks and never seemed to fix itself. That much was apparent. In Hardan, the dogs ran rampant, bossing around everything and everyone, but besides constant reminding of their own superiority, that's about where it ended. Rescue assured that. Urgway wasn't the same way though, because it wasn't Hardan. Urgway wasn't about manipulation or having control, it was just about brute force. In-fact, it was more about survivalist mentality mixed with established social-trend voiding the chances of enlightenment.
In layman's term, Urgway was known as the home of stupid, thick-headed mutts. But that wasn't politically correct to say, in-fact, that was a downright 'no-no,' and Lacerta had been slapped in the back of the head by Vulpecula many times for it. In many ways, Vulpecula felt sorry for many of the canines caught in the cross-fire of The Canes' downfall.
"I don't even understand what we're doing here. These dogs don't want our help, they want us for breakfast." Lacerta spouted off with that nasally tepidness that V loved so-much.
Lacerta sat, his head mushed against the car-door window, admiring the littered cesspool around them. Apus was in the middle, his large eyes staring forward, sitting calm with a seat-belt over his waist. V, opposite Lacerta, fidgeted with his whiskers, his head up. The taxi-driver didn't seem to enjoy V driving his skull into his headrest. Vulpecula brought his chin up and off from the walking stick.
"Clearly," Vulpecula started, "They do care about what we have to say, or they wouldn't have asked up to make the trip. Besides, aren't you at least enjoying the scenery?"
"No, I'm not for that matter, and neither are you,” Lacerta fired back, an agitated inflection behind his words, “You haven't even looked out the window once!"
Lacerta's nagging bothered Vulpecula. He couldn't believe folk thought Lacerta was the normal one.
"I did once. But nothing really keeps my attention that long, you know that about me. But I thought maybe you might enjoy it." Vulpecula answered.
Lacerta let out an audible groan for rebuttal, along with something about how Urgway looked like the setting for an over-the-top crime thriller. Vulpecula offered no retort, however. One reason was because he didn't feel like arguing, the other reason because he saw a glare from the dog driver in the rear-view mirror that scared him.
"I figured you'd be a little more uneasy about coming here, what, considering who your father is," Lacerta commented.
"I don't believe the dogs around here are petty enough to carry grudges," Vulpecula said, albeit sarcastically.
"Your father basically helped
dethrone the Canes Vinatici from power and considering how bad this city looks right about now, I think they might be a little bothered by the sight of you." Lacerta said back.
"Grasping at straws some, aren't you?" Vulpecula asked, his comment, once again riddled with facetious tongue.
"The Supreme Stadium isn't far from here," Apus said plainly.
Ah, yes, the Supreme Stadium, thought Vulpecula. The Supreme Stadium was one of the only land-marked areas in all Urgway, that, some white church, and one or two factories owned by The Fluff.
Citizens of Urgway loved their baseball, and their football, and their hockey, and basically all other sports, especially the ones that involved hurting each-other.
Dogs loved their sports and that was a statement ringing true throughout both Hardan and Urgway. All different sorts of animal species showing up for the scheduled bouts wasn't uncommon either.
Vulpecula didn't take much interest in them though. He didn't take much interest in most things, but that didn't stop the Supreme Stadium from becoming a point of interest.
The traffic started thickening and becoming more populated, the road's more encumbered, that's how it was as they neared the roots of the town.
Vulpecula noticed the lack of quality for most the cars, each often carrying a rustic and archaic look to them. Like the rest of the city, the vehicles showed a lack of maintenance.
V looked around at each of them for some sign of inspiration and entertainment. The drivers of opposing cars sometimes stared back at the Fox Detective. With their sour-faced expressions that Vulpecula loved so much. Individuals showed so much more personality when they were angry or annoyed. Their discomfort was like bread and butter to him.
"The traffic, the people, the scenery, everything about this whole city sucks, doesn't it?" Lacerta asked, but Vulpecula chose not to answer him, figuring it was rhetorical.
Seconds after, the cab started slowing down. Wheels turning. Turning. Turning. No longer. Stopped.
By a curb on the outskirts of traffic, they were at a halt. None of them said anything to the cab-driver. They sat confused.
“Urgway has some of the most divine culture in all of Maharris, my father grew up here, and my great grandfather grew up here. I don't expect a stupid fox, birdie, or frog to understand that, but I won't have anyone disrespecting it. Not in my cab.” The dog's bark was loud.
A dusty and worn cap over his head, and a stern and haggard look that sagged down. A pit-bull, most certainly. Lacerta started up like he was about to say something, but the dog ushered him out before that could commence. Lacerta opened the car-door begrudgingly and climbed out.
Apus and Vulpecula both piled out as well. Prior to closing the door behind him, V plucked some coin out from the green-scarf around his neck and threw it in the passenger seat for the driver's troubles. He closed the door, and sure enough, the cab-driver wasted no time to leave them behind; driving away from them and away from view in the blink of an eye, leaving only the distinctive scent of gasoline behind him.
“Huh,” Vulpecula said and then added, “Usually it's me that gets us kicked out of cabs.”
“The DOG was an idiot!” Lacerta fired back. “Urgway is a joke of a city.”
“I'd recommend holding your tongue about it in the mean-time. We are outnumbered, and the stick I carry is mostly for show.” Vulpecula responded, looking up at a street-sign trying to find out the damage done.
His feet were damp in motor-oil, and he had no doubt it'd be a hassle washing the stuff off from his hind-legs. Lacerta looked over at Vulpecula with a defeated expression.
“Birdie,” Apus mumbled with a glum sadness.
The route to the Supreme Stadium didn't take much brain-work, once they walked a couple of blocks on, they found 9414 Walton Rd., and everything else was self-explanatory. The walk was about an hour or so, what with finding the entrance, and soon after, they were going up the steps and let in by a dark-suited bulldog.
The doors at the entrance were darkly tinted and showed nothing of what lay beyond them. The bulldog's face was droopy and unpleasant looking, and although that was by default, some of it also had to be assisted by the nasty snarl he gave The Fox Detective.
The carpeting on the inside was a puke green, an ugly color that made Vulpecula feel bad for the green-scarf his father left him. He stabbed his walking stick into the carpeting as punishment.
Everything else wasn't that shabby though. There was an empty ticket-booth with thick-glass separating the customer from what would've, any other time, been an employee.
No Sporting Events were happening on this rare occasion, however. Lacerta led the way through the front of the stadium. Lacerta might have despised Urgway, but he enjoyed their sporting events well and good, especially boxing. Something about watching two dogs beat the life out of each other tickled his fancy.
They came to a large entrance-way with two push-open doors at the front. Lacerta shoved them open and led the way to a set of metal stairs leading down on the other-side. The entryway went straight to the arena, and although Vulpecula couldn't see the field because of some pillars obstructing his view, down the stairs, he could see a mess of chairs. The whole visual was enough to make him appreciate the sheer size of the stadium. And to make himself feel small because of it.
“Vulpecula and friends!” a voice hollered out, way too happy go-lucky to be honest. V scribed the fact down in his intellectual blank chalkboard.
The voice was from a medium-sized dog, a Rottweiler, if V wasn't mistaken. After all, his chalkboard memory-bank never really delved that much into different breeds of dogs.
He wore a beige-colored police outfit and was smiling wide like a jack o'lantern. “I must say, I thank you all for coming on such short-notice. I hope nobody bumped you too hard along the way, you know how some can be?”
Vulpecula nodded his head, assuring the dog that he did in-fact know how some could be. The dog's voice sounded enthusiastic and almost giddy with excitement. “I have to say I am a huge fan of your work!”
The Officer seemed to notice his own star-struck angst, because he straightened his posture up soon after and went stone-face.
Lacerta stepped forward in-front of Vulpecula, who wasn't too taken by the dog's words. “It's funny you should mention it, because I am always telling Vulpecula how he should let me make a book out of these different cases we've been doing, but he won't let me, says it's too 'derivative' of other detectives,” Lacerta's voice was back to that annoying neurotic sound that got them kicked out of the cab only about an hour ago, but Vulpecula held his tongue.
The Police Officer laughed aloud, sounding as if what Lacerta said had been the funniest thing in the gosh darn world, and responded, “Well, I think what I've read in the newspapers and magazines about you guys is more than enough, my dear Watson’s!”
Lacerta nodded politely at him. Vulpecula's attention was thrown back toward the arena. His eyes darted out, making strides at piercing through the concrete columns just barely blocking sight of the arena. He wanted more than anything to discard of the ridiculous small-talk and welcome himself to the only thing that kept him entertained.
“Oh, what we needed you for isn't actually out on the field,” the Officer assured. “Hope you didn't expect a macabre or something like that out-there.”
Darn, Vulpecula thought to himself, but decided that wasn't a good reaction to share with the rest of the class.
“You didn't offer us any details about what all of this was about, but I was assuming from what I read on Maharris News Online and what's all-over television, it has something to do with the disappearance of Comet Fowley?” Vulpecula deduced, not making eye-contact with the officer. Eye-contact made Vulpecula uncomfortable.
And so, when the Police Officer leaned his body to the left to try and rectify that, Vulpecula's eyes simply traveled over to the right instead.
“I see your detective skills outreach beyond merely case-work,” the Dog replied. “Follow me, a
nd we'll be able to get down to business with exactly why I brought you here.” The Dog turned his back away from them for a second before looking back, “And by the way, the name's Officer Rofus,” he said with a confident wink. His eyes were a gold-color, as was his fur, except for down his neck, which appeared to descend into white.
Lacerta chuckled quietly to himself at the officer's exuberance, and the officer laughed with him, at a joke he believed he was in on. Officer Rofus stepped forward. Down his leg, beige khakis, and then, dark-black boots with laces that hung down to the floor. Badly tied. Rofus was taller than both Vulpecula and Apus by a hefty margin, but only a couple inches taller than Lacerta.
They followed him through to another area of the arena. V noticed a stand with merchandise still out and scattered about. This included a t-shirt with the words, “Urgway Hounds,” scribed in bright green text, a silhouette of a large-dog was visible, completely black except for the white of his sharp-teeth.
Vulpecula stopped in his tracks, admiring it all, like a kid in a candy store, except his candy was fresh data for his chalkboard, but he was tugged forward by Lacerta soon after.
Officer Rofus unhooked a set of keys from his pant-loop before walking in-front of a door with the words, “VIP” written onto it in white lettering.
The Officer kept rifling through his keys until he found the right one. “Wallah,” Rofus uttered beneath his breath, but Vulpecula was able to hear it. He shoved the key into the keyhole, opened the door, and stepped inside, welcoming them to do so as well. They obliged.
The Very Important Place for Very Important People was even more extravagant and decorative than what Vulpecula could have expected. He hadn't known Urgway for having much in the way of fashion or style, but this didn't even look like the rest of the stadium.
Everything looked more like what Vulpecula would've expected to see in the flashier Italina or Hardan. The carpeting went from a vile green to a velvet red and a long, dark-leather couch was in one-corner, and a large fountain was in the middle of the room with an angelic dog as the centerpiece, equipped with the typical angel-wings and halo overhead. The architecture was manipulated in such way that water slid down the wings and into the fountain's containment.
The Canes Files Page 10