by M. A. Owens
I'd never been to this part of Adria before. It reminded me a lot of the Black District, but only by comparison to the rest of the district. Back home, this would pass for a decent neighborhood. Here, though, it was bottom of the barrel. There were small shops selling "affordable" goods. Most signs had lighting out, causing them to be missing a letter or two. It gave the impression of a potential friendliness toward types that might live on the margins outside the law. Despite all that, it wasn't far removed from everything else. No doubt there were several side streets like this in Adria, should someone have a reason to go down them. Thing is, you probably needed a reason to venture there, and that made them perfect for hiding in plain sight.
We continued walking, but he turned his head toward me briefly, narrowing his gaze. "That, and it's more recent circumstances I assume?"
"Not recent enough to be of help yet I'm afraid."
He nodded. "Sometimes to understand the present it helps to understand the past. I'm well versed in the statue's origins."
Guess I signed up for the history lesson, too. "All right. Let's hear it."
"No one really knows about its earliest beginnings, where it was made, the first person to own it. It was a gift to the mayor of the city, many years ago. As for who gave it to him, it's anyone's guess. But for a long time the big golden bird sat proudly on the mantle in the capital building. The mayor, not in the best state of mind after becoming very old, hid it away in his home amongst the boxes and piles of other junk he had accumulated over the years. He was paranoid that someone would take it from him."
I chuckled. Greed really seemed to make dogs and cats crazy in this city, and once they had a dime, they held onto it like it was the last dime in the whole place. Fernando's face was still. Seemed like he didn't share my humor in this. He continued his explanation without missing a beat.
"Since he did this in secret, no one ever knew what happened to the statue after he died. A few years ago, the family held a blind auction by the box, hosted by the mayor's great-great-grandson. Mr. B had instructed me to bid whatever it took for every single box in the auction. Once it was all transported back to Adria, I and several others meticulously scoured every item. We realized the bird was not there. I returned to learn they'd found a few extra boxes on his property after the auction was over and sold them to some witless old dog who likely didn't understand what she was purchasing. She didn't give her name, and the trail went cold. The fool who sold it was ignorant to what they were selling, and the fool who bought it was just as ignorant to what they were buying. It was, without a doubt, a missed opportunity," he explained.
"Wouldn't assume they didn't know what they were doing, but I follow you."
"More recently, a cat who... well, he's a little like you, detective. He finds things, but he deals strictly in information. You place an order with him and whether or not he finds it, you pay the same. And it isn't cheap--"
"Trim the fat, Fernando. I know what an information broker is. Get to the point."
He seemed unfazed by my lack of patience. "He contacted me recently to let me know a possible match of a stolen statue on an insurance claim landed on his desk. He gave me the information and I went to see the buyer, Agatha, where I found the statue to, once again, be out of my grasp. From that meeting, I found out about you. I sent a letter along with funds to pay you through one of our delivery cats to Constance, which she then delivered to you."
I frowned. "You could say that."
"What do you mean? What did she say?"
"Nothing. She was dead. Murdered in the hallway just outside my apartment."
He stopped in his tracks. "Murdered? That means-"
"It means someone else is looking for the statue. Someone willing to kill to get it. It means you've landed yourself into a heap of trouble, and you've dragged me into it."
"I take it you didn't catch the killer?"
"Poor Constance barely had time to scream. Killed in one strike. Clean and fast. Probably intended to search her after doing the deed, but wisely fled instead, and just in time. I rushed out, but opened my door just in time to see the exit door at the end of the hallway closing. I called the cops, but held onto the letter. Didn't want to scare you off. I don't feel good about that, by the way. You sent that cat to die regardless of whether you meant to, and I intend to solve the murder. Hear me? I couldn't care less about your trinkets."
"You know the Grand Gobbler will probably lead you straight to her killer."
"As long as we don't fall too far behind on the trail we'll run into them sooner or later. I'm sure the chief will forgive me later for withholding evidence, but only if I bring in a killer."
"Then we are of the same path. Despite what you may think of me, detective, I don't intend to let Constance's death go unanswered. Since the murderer is competing with me to find the statue, he could make a move for me soon."
"Sounds like you're just using the death of your friend to get the statue?"
"So what? At least her death can still serve a purpose for the living."
"That's how it is, huh? All right, I get how this works. Gonna require hazard pay, you understand."
He looked noticeably irritated. "Will an additional one thousand dollars acclimate you to the circumstances, Mr. Trigger?"
"Plus expenses," I said.
He stared at me with glacial eyes, but after a series of calculations no doubt taking place inside his head, he spoke calmly. "Of course... and one more thing. Since my information broker has no doubt sold this information to others, you may encounter additional competing interests. I needn't tell you that there are far worse cats in this district than me. Be careful if you consider switching clients mid-game that you don't choose poorly."
"Sure. I may have met one already. You know a black miniature schnauzer in the district? Wears a blue coat, something like mine."
"No. Why?"
"Possibly the murderer, but maybe not. Too small to do that job as well as it was done. Didn't sound like much of a killer either from Agatha's description. He saw her after you left. Look into it."
"I will."
This was the perfect opportunity to follow up on a burning question I'd had on my mind since I first learned of this accursed statue. When I encountered the burglar who I assumed had stolen it from Agatha, along with a ruby collar I'd been hired to find, she got the jump on me and I never got to see her face. Sugarplum was wearing that collar when I first met her, so she was my prime suspect. Because I got the collar back and I didn't really care about chasing gold birds, Bad Kitty, the supposed master thief who stole them, didn't matter anymore. Now, it mattered again. I knew it was a long shot, but...
"Say, what would a dog have to do to meet with the Bad Kitty?"
"Bad Kitty? Who's that?"
"Good question. Give me your number and where you're staying. I'll be in touch soon."
7
I had originally believed Sugarplum was Bad Kitty. Problem is, no one ever admits their secret identities if they have one, my friend Rick, the city's most legendary master thief by night and millionaire by day, excluded. No, I would have to make a game of it. Just like Bad Kitty herself suggested in that letter she sent me after the first time I met her. She had stolen the Grand Gobbler from Agatha. There was no one better to ask.
I called ahead to make an appointment with Rick the next morning. He had at one time offered to look into Bad Kitty for me, but I'd let the whole thing drop. I had more important things to deal with then, but not now. Now it was my top priority.
Folks wouldn't believe the history between Rick and myself even if I told them. Not much believable about it. First you got Rick himself. Agricultural big shot. Owns one of the biggest companies in the city. Who would believe he was actually Rico, the infamous master thief? Then throw in that he was a client of mine and the driving force behind prying the city from Mr. B's clutches. He ought to be hailed as the hero of our generation, but he didn't even want the credit. I really should get out here t
o see him more often.
When I walked into his office, the beagle was sitting there in his chair, elbows on his desk, paws together in the shape of an arch with his chin resting on top.
"Hey pal. What sort of trouble you got yourself into now?"
"Trouble does seem to have a way of finding me," I replied.
He chuckled and nodded solemnly. "That it does, detective. How do I figure in this time?"
"You remember that Bad Kitty character I asked you to look into for me a while back?"
He looked down and thought for a few seconds before raising his paw in triumph. "Yes, I remember that. The so-called master thief, who no one had ever heard of. The one who got the best of you that night in the Rose Garden Estates over in the Black District, right?"
"She stole a few things I never expected to see again. One was a collar covered in rubies. That one showed up later, and get this," I leaned in closer, for dramatic effect, "It was around Sugarplum's neck."
He scratched the top of his head, looking puzzled. "Sugarplum? You're kidding."
"Nope. Most suspicious part is that she would never tell me where she got it. After all that business went down with her father, Mr. B, she told me to name one thing I wanted as a reward. Said it could be anything. I picked the collar. She gave it up and I returned it to its rightful owner."
He grinned from ear to ear. "And just how good looking was this dame you brought the collar back to?"
I shot him a defensive scowl. "It wasn't about that." I looked away for a moment, half expecting to look back and see his expression returned to normal, only I saw him sporting an even wider grin. After seeing that big grin of his again, I couldn't help but grin myself. "Very. All right? She was a knockout. Now if you're done teasing me I'd like to get to the point," I said.
His grin faded, but only slightly. "All right." His expression went grim. His paws dropped to the desk. "I'll only say one more thing on the matter."
I studied him for a moment, unconvinced. "Go ahead."
"Have you asked her out on a date yet?"
I snapped an answer before thinking it through. "Not yet." His grin brightened back up again as I realized my mistake. "I mean, no, I haven't! Look, Rick, I know it's all in good fun, but this is important!"
To my surprise, his expression turned into a faintly sad one. "Our lives are short. Be careful when you decide what's important and what's not," he said. Surprisingly wise words coming from him. I was almost shocked. "The collar, what else were you going to say about it?"
Something must've hit a sore spot with him. I'd have to make a mental note for later.
"You should remember the collar. I don't think you ever saw it in person, but it's the one I was looking for when we met at my office. You should especially remember how you lied and said you could get it for me as payment."
He tapped his paw on the desk. "Yeah, actually I do remember it now. What makes you think I lied about being able to get it?"
He seemed defensive. Had I misunderstood?
"You never mentioned it again after you hired me," I said.
"That's because it had already been purchased from the underground market by that time."
"You mean black market?"
"No, I mean underground market. Mr. B controlled the black market. This one was a competing entity. Invite only. Very exclusive. A lot of it was items swiped from Mr. B, especially my contributions, as you know."
"So did Sugarplum buy it from there or did she list it, decide to keep it and mark it as sold?" I asked.
He shrugged. "The market thrives on identity protection. That was especially important back then."
"That explains why Sugar wouldn't tell me where she got it."
"Yep."
I scratched my head then let out a big sigh.
"Problem with that is it's a perfectly reasonable explanation for both possibilities."
"Right you are," he said.
I raised my paw as an idea came to mind. "What if I list some kind of difficult job and lure her in?"
"Won't work. For starters I've not seen anyone even remotely matching that description taking jobs since we took Mr. B down. Second, there's even less reason to use the black market now, so almost nothing passes through the underground since it's so expensive by comparison. Third, there are fewer jobs and less merchandise overall since Colonel Buddy took over the Adria Police Department. Because of how deep the former Colonel was in the whole thing, Buddy used that to his advantage and really stomped it out it fast."
"So how about this: You post something as Rico asking to meet with the best of the best for the biggest heist yet? Should get her attention."
"Yeah, so maybe she'll see it. Then she'll promptly ignore it."
"Not if you mention the Grand Gobbler."
His eyes widened and locked with mine as he tried to suppress a laugh, like he was expecting a punch line. After giving me ample time, he let loose with roaring laughter.
"The Grand Gobbler? Are you serious?"
I tilted my head.
"No, I'm kidding." I stared at him coldly.
"Okay, okay, so you're not kidding. Look, stay away from the Grand Gobbler nonsense. It's a fairytale."
"Tell that to Bad Kitty. She stole it."
"You're kidd-" He stopped himself, likely finding it wise to pick a different phrase. "That's a lot to take in. How do you know?"
I sighed. This would be hard to explain. "Bear with me here. Lily is the dog who the collar belonged to. And-"
"We're back to the collar again?"
"Just let me lay it all out. It'll make sense more or less. So the collar was Lily's mother's originally. She left it to her after she passed away. Lily's aunt, Agatha, wanted the collar. Stole it from her own niece. You with me so far?"
He nodded. "Yep."
"So Bad Kitty cleans Agatha's place out. Swipes the collar, but the collar was just collateral damage. What she was really after was the Grand Gobbler. Agatha listed it on an insurance claim list along with the collar and everything else that was stolen."
He held up his paw. "All right, but ask yourself this: How do you know this Grand Gobbler isn't just a fake, well made or otherwise?"
"Maybe it is. But I'm tasked with finding it, not selling it. At any rate, there's a good chance it's real. She got it out of an auction lot from the original owner. The mayor who received it as a gift. Well, his great-great-something-grandson at least."
"Mr. B wanted that statue fiercely. How did she get it right out from under him like that?"
"Extra boxes, discovered later after one of Mr. B's cats had already cleaned the place out."
"Amazing. Now everyone's trying to get their paws on it. Doesn't seem like your gig though, Trigger. Gotta be almost all bad actors."
I shook my head. "A young cat was murdered, and the killer is knee deep in it. I won't let them get away with it. Understand? You going to help me or not?"
He smiled, and not with his usual goofy smile either. "You bet I will."
8
Rick set up the meeting. Rather, it was Rico who actually set up the meet. It was under the pretense (which just happened to be technically true) that there were rumors the Grand Gobbler had been recently located. He called for experienced individuals, specifically those who had a history with the Grand Gobbler, to assist him. We had no way of knowing who would show up, and that possibility included Colonel Buddy. He scheduled the meet on short notice for the very next day.
Knowing the meeting place in advance, I staked it out. Unsurprisingly, it was yet another tucked-away back alley dump. I'd forgotten just how many of these winding back alleys there were in Adria. I squeezed myself between a dumpster and a wall, right next to where the meeting was supposed to take place. Being small did have its advantages.
The first one to show was Fernando. I was a little surprised, but probably shouldn't have been. Even though he used to work for Mr. B, Fernando is clearly in it for himself. Saying nothing, he sat on a nearby crate waiting
for others to arrive. The second to arrive was Rick, sporting his Rico bandit disguise. The two waited silently for a few more minutes, but no one else came.
Fernando was the first to speak up.
"First, let me say to you, Mr. Rico, that you made my job difficult. But now that Mr. B is out of the picture, I see no reason for any lasting grudges or ill will between us.
Rick nodded. "Fair enough."
"There aren't many with direct knowledge of the Grand Gobbler. And even fewer who believe it actually exists."
"An understandable position," Rick said.
Fernando grinned. "Well, that gives us a considerable advantage. Because let me tell you firsthand, the Grand Gobbler exists. You will find few, likely none, more abundantly versed in its history than I."
"Have you seen it for yourself?"
Fernando threw his paws outward, in time with an exaggerated sigh. "Have you seen the air you breathe?"
Rick laughed. "I can't see it, but I breathe it, feel it in my lungs. If I try to forcefully keep it out of my body, I get uncomfortable. So, if you've not seen it, just what evidence do you have that the Grand Gobbler exists?"
"For starters, there are countless records where it is mentioned. Second, there is a photo of it on the mayor's mantle shortly after he received it. I also paid good money to a certain broker who filled me in to its presence on an insurance claim. The one who made the claim just happened to match the description of the dog who bought some additional boxes auctioned off by the mayor's great-great-grandson. Those were the only items in the auction I couldn't retrieve personally. Or do you find this is all just some elaborate coincidence?"
"Are you suggesting such a coincidence would be impossible?"
Fernando threw his paws up again in frustration. "No, nothing is impossible. While your skepticism is as admirable as it is irksome, I gravitate toward the simpler solution being the most likely one. Here, I believe based upon the evidence that the Grand Gobbler is real."
Although I assumed Rick was being honest about his opinion, he seemed to particularly enjoy getting a rise out of Fernando. I finally saw what it looked like as an outsider for Rick to tease a person more serious than himself.