The Plucker: A Beastly Crimes Book

by Anna Starobinets

“Move.”

  Chief Badger slumped and silently took a step back.

  “Who is that?” Melissandra’s shaking paw pointed at the motionless, plucked Vulture. “What happened here? Tell me the truth, for once!”

  “Well . . .” Chief Badger took a deep breath. “That’s our CSI Vulture. He’s been plucked by a serial maniac we’re trying to catch.”

  “Just a minor, boring case. Is that so, Badger?” said Melissandra bitterly. “You’ve gotten yourself into something dangerous yet again! And yet again you lied to me! Enough is enough!”

  She threw the picnic basket into the open window, turned, and jogged in the direction of the thicket. The larvae spilled on to the station floor. Hawk sighed heavily and pecked at a few.

  “She’s strict,” said Badgercat, “and proud.”

  “But she’s a good cook,” added Hawk.

  CHAPTER 29: IN WHICH BROTHER BETRAYS BROTHER

  “You’re absolutely right, Chief,” said Badgercat jogging alongside Badger. “Sneaky Sal knows something, and he’s scared. But he’s our only lead. We’ve got to make him talk. And since he refuses to talk without a lawyer-owl—”

  “He’s my only lead,” panted Badger without turning around. “I’ve got to make him talk.”

  “Yes, that’s what I said—”

  “No, you said ‘our’ lead and ‘we’ve’ got to.”

  “What’s the difference? You made me lose my train of thought. Since Sal refuses to talk without a lawyer-owl, we’ve got to fetch his lawyer-owl. That’s where we’re going. Right?”

  “I’ve got to fetch the owl,” said Badger stopping. “That’s where I’m going. Me, not we. Do you understand, Son? We’ve established you are not the Plucker, but you are not Assistant Chief Badger of the Far Woods Police either. You’re still suspended from police work. No more ‘we.’ I’m going to fetch the lawyer-owl alone.”

  “You don’t want me to come with you?”

  “I’m not allowed to take you with me. Super Bat will be there. If I show up with you, she’ll write another complaint about me and report it to the top. And I’ll be suspended too.”

  “No, you won’t!” Badgercat protested. “I have it all worked out. Owl Huck gave testimony against me. Right? He insisted that I plucked his wing, but that’s not true! We need to find out . . . I mean, you need to find out why he lied. I’ve come along for a face-to-face confrontation. Let him look me in the eye and explain. . .”

  * * *

  “Why were you bad-mouthing me?” Badgercat’s eyes flashed with such menace that if Huck had been a phoenix, he would’ve definitely burst into flames from his stare.

  But Huck was not a phoenix. He was a dusty, feisty owl who was incapable of self-criticism.

  “I wasn’t bad-mouthing anyone,” he snapped. “The police cat once threatened to pluck my feathers. And then I was caught in my own stolen-goods shop and trapped in a dark corner, and my wing was plucked. So who was I supposed to blame? Obviously, I assumed it had been the cat.”

  “Was the corner very dark?” asked Chief Badger.

  “Dark, dusty, and terrifying,” said Huck.

  “And yet you insisted that you saw Badgercat in this dark corner.”

  “Yes, even when it’s pitch-black I see him—because he’s always before my mind’s eye. Claws out and threatening.”

  “Where am I?” asked Badgercat.

  “Before his mind’s eye,” repeated Badger, smiling. “I see you haven’t lost your lawyering abilities working at this shop, Huck. You were always able to talk your way out of anything.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Huck, dismissively jerking his beak upward and almost thrusting it into Super Bat’s snout. She was hanging upside down above him. The ceiling in the stolen-goods shop was very low.

  “What I’m talking about is that one of your former clients has requested your legal services.”

  “Who?” asked Huck.

  “Sneaky Sal.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “No means no. I’m done being a lawyer. I’m just a simple, quiet shop owner. I’m not interested in dangerous professions anymore. No, thank you.”

  “Br-br-br” came a voice from behind a closed door. “Br-br-br.”

  “Not to mention, I can’t leave my poor brother Chuck’s side. As you can hear, he is in very poor health. He still hasn’t recovered from the horrible plucking.”

  “Br-br-br.” Chuck’s voice grew louder. “Br-br-br!”

  “It’s time for you to go,” said Huck. “I have to wet my poor brother’s beak and comb out any matted new feathers.”

  “Br! Bro! Brother!” yelled Chuck from his room.

  “You see, he’s calling me.” Huck began scrambling. “Goodbye, good luck—”

  “He’s speaking much more clearly,” said Badger, pleased. “Why didn’t you mention that Chuck is feeling better and that he’s able to speak again? We absolutely must get his victim’s testimony.”

  “No! He’s still not well!” Huck angrily flapped his wings, stirring up a cloud of dust.

  “His voice sounds quite lively,” protested Chief Badger, sneezing. “I’m going to peek in on him.”

  “Absolutely not! And you’re ill! His immune system is compromised. You could get him sick!”

  “I sneezed because of the dust,” said Chief Badger, looking intently at Huck. “You seem anxious. I’m good at sensing anxiety.”

  Chief Badger opened the door to Chuck’s room.

  Owl Chuck was lying on his back. He had lost weight but was growing back fluffy feathers and looked reasonably alert.

  “Who plucked you?” asked Badger. “Can you give a statement?”

  “Brother,” said Chuck quietly. “Brother brother.”

  “Brother?”

  “Brother betrays brother,” said Chuck with difficulty and turned to face the wall.

  CHAPTER 30: IN WHICH THE CLUES LEAD STRAIGHT TO THE TOP

  “I didn’t pluck my brother!” owl Huck buried his face in his dusty wing. “Whoo whoo whoo!” It looked like he was about to burst into tears.

  Chief Badger had never seen an owl—not just Huck, but any owl—in such a crestfallen state. Owls were not easily overwhelmed. Everyone knew this.

  Badger looked up. Super Bat remained suspended from the ceiling. She was silent. Was she asleep? Chief Badger had never seen Super Bat silent or asleep. He didn’t even know she was capable of sleeping.

  “At least today is full of discoveries,” he mumbled.

  “What?” asked Badgercat.

  “Oh, I was only thinking: if today is the last day of my life, it should be an interesting one,” said Badger. Then he turned to Huck. “So what did your brother mean when he said ‘brother betrays brother’?”

  “He meant that I turned on him,” whispered Huck.

  “In what way?”

  “I watched him get plucked and didn’t do anything to help. Then I voluntarily offered my wing to be plucked. And then I bad-mouthed Badgercat.”

  “But why?” asked Badgercat, his eyes wide.

  “Because I was scared. Because the Plucker threatened to pluck me too. All of me, not just my wing.”

  “So who is it? Who is the Plucker?” asked Chief Badger.

  “I can’t say,” whispered Huck.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m scared for my life. And for my brother’s life. Because the Plucker . . . is nearby. Because he’s practically among us. Because”—Huck switched to a whisper—“because in this cursed case the clues lead straight to the top.”

  Chief Badger and Badgercat instinctively looked up. Super Bat hung motionless from the ceiling. Her eyes were closed. But her nostrils were quivering faintly and her upper lip was curled up in a cruel grimace.

  Maybe she was having a nightmare.

  Or maybe Huck’s words had upset her.

  CHAPTER 31: IN WHICH BADGER IS THREATENED

  Chief Badger had brewed th
eir favorite herbal tea: oregano, peppermint, the tender petals of cornflowers, the fuzzy centers of daisies, a little clover, and a couple of sappy pine cones. They were sitting on the cozy, straw-covered porch of Badger’s burrow. They watched the sun setting behind the pinkish canopies as they sipped on the strong, aromatic brew—their teaspoons clinking softly—and thoughtfully discussed the case. Just like they had in the good old times. A few times Chief Badger had gotten so engrossed that he’d called Badgercat his “partner” out of habit. Badgercat cautiously purred at bliss level one and didn’t correct him.

  “If Huck is telling the truth and the clues really do lead to the top, that means the animals involved in the case work for Weasel—which explains a lot,” said Badger thoughtfully.

  “Exactly,” said Badgercat dipping his whiskers in his tea. “That explains why the Plucker didn’t fall for our bait—for Mr. King Ping—and did something completely different. Who knew about our plan? Who knew about the penguin? Super Bat, of course! We asked for her permission to run the covert operation. She denied it. But she knew we wouldn’t comply. Badger logic, right Chief?”

  “Yes, badger logic.” Badger sipped his tea loudly and spit out a fuzzy center of a daisy that had gotten stuck between his teeth. “But there was someone else who knew about the penguin.”

  “Who?” Badgercat panicked.

  “Your friend Ratty. You said you told him you invited the famous shark baiter, Mr. King Ping, to the Far Woods.”

  “But, Chief, you know that Ratty died heroically.” Badgercat grew sullen.

  “He could’ve informed his colleagues about Mr. King Ping while he was still alive.”

  “Ratty wouldn’t do that,” said Badgercat, insulted.

  “Are you sure?” Badger narrowed his eyes. “What if he was interrogated? Or tortured?”

  “I’m sure,” said Badgercat quietly. “Ratty wouldn’t turn on a friend. He never—”

  “And the feathers!” Badger suddenly interrupted. “The order from the top that every bird must give a freshly plucked feather. This fits into our theory!”

  “Yes! They burned feathers in an attempt to find the phoenix! First, under the guise of the maniac. But then”—Badgercat leaped up passionately—“completely out in the open and systematically. As if for the sake of the investigation! That’s why Super Bat was collecting all those feathers. To burn them and see if anything would be born from the ashes!”

  “Yet, something doesn’t add up.” Badger frowned. “Why did they pluck raven Sarah and Vulture? Both of them had submitted their feathers. Let’s say the raven gave a molted feather instead of a freshly plucked one and that seemed suspicious to them, so they plucked her just to make sure. But what about Vulture? Why pluck him?”

  “He didn’t give a freshly plucked feather either?” guessed Badgercat.

  “No, Vulture is an extremely honorable bird. He would never tamper with the feathers.”

  “Maybe they did it to scare us?” suggested Badgercat.

  “Scare us?”

  “Yes. Us. I mean, you . . . the police.”

  “Why would Weasel’s agents want to scare the police?”

  “Because they knew we were nearing the truth and beginning to suspect that all the clues lead to the top. So they plucked one of us, er, one of you. One of the police. Right at the station. Kind of like a message: ‘Leave this case alone.’”

  “A beastly beautiful theory, Partner,” smiled Chief Badger. “But when Vulture was plucked, we didn’t suspect yet that the clues lead to the top. If you remember, at that point our main prediction was that the Plucker was a dead hamster.”

  “Then they must have foreseen that we would suspect it,” said Badgercat with a wave of his paw.

  “I don’t know . . .” Badger shook his head.

  “Magpie!” Badger suddenly yelped. “Look, it’s Magpie! She did it. She actually brought us Sal’s answer on her tail.”

  The plucked Magpie landed on the porch and flicked her bare tail, dropping two letters.

  “Two whole letters I’ve dragged over!” said Magpie, panting. “Well, I’m off! I’ve got an appointment at the clinic!”

  “Thank you, Magpie,” said Badger examining the two envelopes. One of them said:

  To: Chief Badger of the Far Woods Police

  From: the honest thief Sneaky Sal

  To be delivered right to his paws.

  The second envelope bore no return address or the sender’s name. Only one word was scratched across it with someone’s sharp claw: “Badger.”

  Badger turned the mysterious envelope over in his paws, licked it, and put it off to the side. Then he ripped open Sal’s envelope and read it out loud.

  “I am an honest thief and do not consort with the police. But your offer is intriguing—to forgive all my crimes classified as ‘thefts’ in exchange for testimony in regards to the Plucker case. I must admit, I’m tired of always hiding from the law and constantly losing a piece of myself. And so in regards to your question: Where, one year ago, did I get the milk of a phoenix?, I have an answer. I got it from special agent Super Bat. At the time, she wasn’t a special agent yet. She worked as a messenger for Madame Weasel. She was tasked with delivering a very valuable shipment to Weasel. And I intercepted it. I stole the entire shipment from Super Bat. It turned out to be bird’s milk. I wanted to sell it on the black market, but I was almost caught by the police. So I shed a tail, abandoned the milk, and ran away. The police put the milk in their evidence locker. But now Super Bat is pretending none of that happened. She wants to put me behind bars, so I don’t reveal her secret. Don’t tell her that I told you everything. I’m very afraid of Super Bat. Just the thought of her lance-shaped snout and black wings makes my tail feel like it’s going to fall off again.”

  “You see, Ratty has nothing to do with it,” said Badgercat breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s all Super Bat. Super Bat and her boss, Madame Weasel. They plucked all our birds!”

  “Probably. It’s all very probable,” said Badger opening the second envelope with his teeth. A dark piece of bark fell from the envelope onto the ground. Badgercat picked it up and read the message, scrawled on with a sharpened claw.

  “Chief Badger, leave this case alone. You can’t crack this nut. All the clues lead to the top. If you don’t comply, consider yourself gone. You won’t live to see sunrise. Remember what the cuckoo said.”

  Badgercat tossed the bark aside, as if it was a poisonous spider, and stared in fear at Chief Badger.

  “It isn’t signed,” he mumbled. “But it has Super Bat written all over it.”

  “I can’t disagree,” said Chief Badger, nodding. “The only animals I shared Lady Cuckoo’s prediction with were my colleagues at our morning briefing.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Badgercat.

  “Retire!” suddenly came Starling’s voice. “Time to retire!”

  Starling quickly fluttered onto the porch and looked over his shoulder fearfully.

  “Time to retire,” he repeated in Super Bat’s shrill voice.

  “Is that what you think, Starling? Or did Super Bat send you here with that message?” asked Chief Badger.

  “Super Bat,” answered Starling nodding. Then he continued in Super Bat’s voice, “Officer Starling, tell Chief Badger that I order him to come to the station at once. It’s time for Chief Badger to retire. We will sign the official paperwork today.”

  “But I don’t intend on retiring today,” said Badger chuckling.

  “Tell Chief Badger that it’s an order. I demand to see him. At once. An order.”

  “Well, since it’s an order”—Chief Badger stood up from his comfortable wicker chair with difficulty—“of course I will go. I must go. But I’m not signing any paperwork. First, I’ll close this Plucker case. And only then will I retire.”

  “I’m coming with you!” said Badgercat jumping up. “If Super Bat is the Plucker, it’s dangerous to go there alone. Are you coming, Starling?”


  Starling shivered fearfully and scrambled into the depths of the porch.

  “Are you scared of returning to the police station?” asked Chief Badger.

  “Scared,” said Starling. “Scared of returning to the police station.”

  “Are you scared of Super Bat? Scared of being plucked too?”

  “Plucked,” whispered Starling. “Plucked too! Plucked!”

  “Then don’t go. If you want, you can stay here at my house,” said Chief Badger. “Would that make you feel better?”

  “Stay here!” said Starling happily. “Feel better!”

  “There are some pine nuts in the basement,” smiled Chief Badger. “You can have a snack.”

  “Have a snack in the basement!” Starling jumped with joy.

  CHAPTER 32: IN WHICH EVERYTHING IS DONE FOR SAFETY

  By the time they turned off the main road into the thicket that led to the police station, it had gotten dark and started to drizzle. It smelled of damp earth, fledgling mushrooms yet to be touched by worms, and sweet herby grass. It smelled as if the grass were exhaling all the warmth, light, and air it had absorbed that day right into their snouts. Chief Badger stopped, inhaling deeply.

  “Why are you huffing and puffing?” asked Badgercat. “Are you tired?”

  “If today really is my last day,” said Chief Badger, “I want to make sure I really breathe it in.”

  “You can’t postpone death by taking a deep breath” came a voice from the tall grass. “Ancient rat wisdom.”

  “That’s Ratty’s voice,” whispered Badgercat.

  “There are different interpretations of that saying.” The shadow of Ratty’s harsh, thin silhouette flashed in the undergrowth. “I understand it to mean: if you don’t take any precautions and just stand huffing and puffing at death’s doorstep, then death is inevitable.”

  Ratty emerged from the grass.

  “Ratty’s ghost.” Badgercat’s pupils widened in fear.

  “Why ghost?” asked Ratty, deadpan.

  “Because,” Badgercat’s voice trembled, “Weasel bit your head off!”

  “It seems my head is in its proper place.” The corner of Ratty’s mouth curled into the slightest sneer. “And in good working order. Which is why I’m here, chatting with you, and not lying mauled in Weasel’s torture chamber.”