“Yote hasn’t been found guilty yet either,” said Badger.
“That’s just a formality,” rustled the owls.
“What am I supposed to tell the guys?” piped up Desman desperately. “They’re already on their way, you see. Woodpecker, Mole, Ray…”
“You can send Mole and Ray to my house,” offered Chief Badger graciously. “I’ve been wanting to get a heated floor for a long time. It’s more cozy to hibernate on.”
CHAPTER 8: IN WHICH ASSISTANT CHIEF BADGER ACTS HEROICALLY
The downpour of rain washed the stripes off of Badgercat’s snout. It washed away Yote’s tracks and scent, too, but somehow Badgercat knew in his animal gut where he needed to run and where his target was. Somewhere in the damp darkness, oversaturated with the smell of rotten leaves, the lying coyote was hiding in the prickly bushes. And he would find him! Without fail, he would find him. He was, after all, Badgercat. Not only could he see in the dark, but he had a highly developed sixth sense. He wasn’t sure why this—his predatory ability to sense where his prey was hiding—was called a “sixth sense.” Perhaps some animals had so few senses, only five, that a sixth sense was considered to be something extra. But he, Badgercat, had a multitude of senses—no less than five hundred. But if everyone insisted on calling this one—his killer instinct—his sixth sense, so be it. The point was it was highly developed. Coyote Yote was somewhere nearby…maybe in these very bushes…
There was a clap of thunder, and a hissing bolt of lightning streaked poisonous white light on to the clearing, on to Badgercat, and on to the wet bushes. And in that short penetrating flash, behind the bushes’ thin intertwined branches, as if behind barbed wire, Badgercat suddenly noticed Yote’s distorted mug with his teeth bared in a horrible grimace. A split second later it was dark again. But now Badgercat knew exactly where to pounce. As he leaped, letting out his claws, then digging them into Yote’s fur, it dawned on him that Yote didn’t have a motive. He had nothing to gain, no concrete reason that drove him to kill Rabbit. Yote just wasn’t right in the head, that’s all, with his maniacal laughter, his glare, his scowl. There was no motive. He was just crazy.
“In the name of the law of the Far Woods,” growled Badgercat, holding Yote down in a death grip, pressing his snout against the wet ground, “coyote Yote, you are under arrest for the suspected murder of Rabbit.” Badgercat cuffed Yote’s paws behind his back.
“I didn’t murder…Rabbit… Hee hee hee…ha ha ha!”
Badgercat felt, rather than saw, Yote convulse in a fit of silent laughter. It made Badgercat feel uneasy.
“Get up. We’ve got to go.”
“Go-o-o-oh-ho-ho-ho? Where to-oo-oo-oo?”
“I’m bringing you in for questioning.”
CHAPTER 9: IN WHICH THE POLICE BADGERS LEAD A MASTERFUL INTERROGATION
“I don’t remember. I don’t remember.” Yote was staring blankly at a spot on the wall, rocking back and forth. “I don’t remember anything.”
“Let me jog your memory,” snapped Badgercat. “We have a witness who saw you leave the Tree Knot Tavern and head to the scene of the crime not long before Rabbit’s murder. This same witness heard you shrieking, ‘You’re done, Rabbit,’ ‘You’re a goner,’ and so on.”
The coyote’s almond-shaped eyes grew wide, taking on the appearance of two huge green grapes.
“Do you remember that, Yote?” asked Chief Badger. “Do you remember saying that?”
“I’m beginning to…,” answered Yote barely audibly, and he stopped rocking.
“Why were you threatening to kill Rabbit? You two were friends, weren’t you?”
Yote swallowed loudly but didn’t say anything.
“You killed Rabbit,” stated Badgercat flatly. “Why did you kill him?”
“I didn’t kill Rabbit!” yelped Yote. “Hee hee hee! I didn’t kill him! Ha ha ha!”
“So you don’t remember why you left the tavern and where you went,” said Chief Badger. “But you remember that you didn’t kill Rabbit. Is that right?”
“I just couldn’t have killed Rabbit,” Yote choked out through chattering teeth. “He was my friend!”
“Then why did you call him a ‘goner’?”
“I was angry.” Yote tried to get a hold of himself and speak calmly. “I was mad at Rabbit.”
“What did he do?”
“He stole… I didn’t want to share this. I didn’t want to tarnish his memory. But since things have turned out this way, I’ll tell you. Not long before his”—Yote’s lower jaw began to tremble—“death, my friend Rabbit stole all the vegetables from the tavern’s cellar.”
“All the vegetables?”
“Yes. I couldn’t even serve Fox the vegetable chickadee she’d ordered.”
“How do you know it was Rabbit who stole all the vegetables?” asked Badgercat suspiciously.
“Because I’d given Rabbit a spare key to the cellar. Rabbit and I were the only ones with keys. And the cellar door wasn’t broken in. It was opened with a key.”
“Why did you give Rabbit a key?”
“He asked if I could spare a few carrots for his hungry children. I told him he could have some carrots, but I was busy serving customers. So I just gave him a key. Later, when I went down to the cellar, the vegetables were gone. All of them.”
“And that’s why you killed Rabbit,” said Badgercat.
“I didn’t kill him! I was angry, yes. But to kill? No! I was just furious. How could he? How could he do that to me? I trusted him. I trusted him so much that I’d even agreed to show him my h-h-hideout in the Near Woods, the place I h-h-hid when my parents were killed. The same place where, long ago, you found me as a pup, Chief Badger. Do you remember that day?”
“My memory is fine, unlike yours,” said Badger gruffly. “Why did you take Rabbit to your hideout? I thought you didn’t have the best memories associated with that place?”
“Rabbit said that since we were best friends, we should know everything about each other—every last secret.”
Badger nodded thoughtfully.
“How long ago were you there?”
“About five days ago.”
“Okay, Yote, let’s assume that you truly don’t remember what happened after you left the tavern, screaming threats at Rabbit.” Badgercat narrowed his eyes. “But do you admit that you very well could have killed Rabbit? Out of revenge or out of anger?”
“I don’t think so. I highly doubt…”
“But it is possible?”
“I don’t know,” Yote began, rocking back and forth again. “I don’t know anything anymore…”
“Clearly, you had a motive!” said Badgercat triumphantly. “And you don’t have an alibi. During the trial, the jury will find you guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. It’s in your best interest to confess now. As you know, a voluntary confession can reduce your sentence, so I advise you to…”
“Yote, did Rabbit tell you any of his secrets?” Chief Badger suddenly interrupted Badgercat. “You had agreed to know everything about each other. What was Rabbit’s secret?”
Badgercat froze in shock, his mouth agape mid-sentence. How could he? How could Chief Badger interrupt him at such a crucial moment? When he was this close to getting a confession out of the suspect! It was unfortunate but a fact: Chief Badger had gotten rusty. He was getting too old for police work. It was time for some well-deserved rest. He couldn’t chase after perpetrators, or interrogate them properly, or even sit quietly while his partner masterfully led the suspect to a confession. Now Badger had made Yote lose his train of thought!
“What was Rabbit’s secret?” repeated Yote as mindlessly as a starling.
“Yes, try to remember. What was Rabbit’s secret?” nudged Badger gently.
“Rabbit’s…secret…” Suddenly Yote’s face lit up. “Rabbit’s secret was about him and Wolf.”
“What about him and Wolf?”
“He told me that he was secretly getting even with Wolf for all the rabbi
ts ever eaten by wolves in the Far Woods before the Animal Protection Law went into affect.”
“How?”
“He’d sneak into Wolf’s den and throw out all his roasted beetles. Wolf found out about it and got really mad. Rabbit told me that Wolf had threatened him.”
“So Wolf has a motive too,” whispered Badgercat. “And no alibi…”
“I was so glad when you arrested Wolf,” whined Yote. “Since I didn’t remember where I was during Rabbit’s murder, I thought that if Wolf had done it then it definitely couldn’t have been me. I was so happy! So happy that I wasn’t the murderer! Hee hee hee! But now you’ve told me that I had a motive. So that means… What does that mean? That Wolf and I are both murderers? Ha ha ha! Hee hee hee!” Yote convulsed in hysterical laughter and fell to the ground.
“He’s having an episode,” said Chief Badger. “We need to call in psychologist Mouse. We can’t manage on our own.”
CHAPTER 10: IN WHICH THE LARVAE ARE THOUGHT OF
“You aren’t”—the beetle’s voice cracked—“going anywhere!” She clutched at the bark of the ceiling with her mandible in an effort to stifle an oncoming sob.
“But, Betty, darling”—bug Buck scampered on to the ceiling and dangled next to his wife—“it won’t take long. I’ll just go there and come right back.”
“Come right back,” beetle Betty repeated mournfully. “Why hasn’t life taught you anything? Huh, Buck? You really think that in these beastly woods, governed by beastly laws, a bug such as yourself can just go to the police and come back? Think of our larvae!”
“But under the Witness Protection Law they can’t do anything to me,” said Buck, gently stroking his wife’s thorax and narrow, delicate wing casings.
“They’ll catch you and swallow you whole before they realize you’re a witness!” Her huge compound eyes filled with tears. “They’re animals, Buck. Animals! And according to their beastly laws, they have every right to eat you!”
“But I’ll be holding a white leaf,” said Buck. “According to the Witness Protection Law, if an insect-witness is carrying a white leaf, he can’t be…”
“Who cares?” exclaimed Betty furiously. “Animals are beasts! They’re capable of anything! And you’re a member of the Beetle-Mosquito Alliance. Why do you, my darling bug, need to meddle in their beastly murder cases? Don’t go to the police, Buck. Think of our larvae!”
“I am thinking of our larvae,” said Buck stubbornly. “I’m thinking of the day they turn into beetles and ask me, ‘Dad, did you always do the right thing and tell the truth? Did you always defend the innocent? Were you ever a coward? Are you a good, decent bug?’ What will I say to our children? What will we say, Betty? That I wanted to tell the truth but chickened out?”
Betty crawled down from the ceiling on to the wall, her wing casings quivering.
“Do as you must,” she said. “But please be careful.”
CHAPTER 11: IN WHICH A PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE OF THE MURDERER IS DRAWN UP
“Now, I’m going to say different words,” said psychologist Mouse, smoothing down the soft gray fur between her ears. “And you will respond to each one with another word. Try not to think and say the first thing that comes to mind. Do you understand, Yote?”
Yote nodded apathetically.
“Porcupine.” said Mouse.
“Needle,” responded Yote.
“Fur.”
“Blood.”
“Friend.”
“Traitor.”
“Murder.”
“Father.”
“Rabbit.”
“Wolf.”
“Meat.”
“Food.”
“Fang.”
“Fear.”
“Coyote.”
“Alone.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Oh, I meant ‘thank you’ as in we’re finished,” Mouse smiled. “Now I need to discuss the results of our chat with the police badgers.”
“What’s there to discuss?” exclaimed Badgercat when the coyote had left the room. “It’s obvious that Yote and Wolf killed Rabbit together.”
“It isn’t so obvious to me,” Mouse smiled evasively.
“What do you mean?” asked Badgercat. “You heard his criminal associations with the most neutral words—blood, traitor, fear, meat, and wolf—because he was his accomplice!”
“The coyote’s associations were indeed atypical,” agreed Mouse. “For example, the word fur is typically associated with beauty or warmth, and in response to the word friend animals usually say the name of their best friend…”
“Exactly!”
“But the coyote’s associations,” continued Mouse, “speak to a deep psychological trauma that occurred in this animal’s early childhood. Notice the association of ‘murder’ and ‘father.’ After all, his parents were killed and, if I’m not mistaken, mauled, when he was just a pup. The murder happened right before his eyes, which is why he associates ‘fur’ with ‘blood’ and ‘fang’ with ‘fear.’ Naturally, that fear and those terrible memories have remained with him to this day. ‘Friend’/‘traitor’ and ‘porcupine’/‘needle’ indicate a distrust of others, feelings of vulnerability, and the anticipation of hostility from those around him. And, of course, there’s loneliness: ‘coyote’/‘alone.’”
“What about ‘meat’/‘food’?” snapped Badgercat.
“Well, Yote works in the food service industry. Not everyone is happy that eating the meat of animals is illegal in our woods. I’m sure that many customers who are predators try to convince Yote to serve them something, let’s say, more natural, more authentic. For instance, a bit of game meat, some poultry, or even mouse paté,” the psychologist fixed her gaze on Badgercat who, in turn, looked away. “So the association of ‘meat’ and ‘food’ seems completely normal to me. Unfortunately, our society is still quite beastly.”
“So you don’t think that Yote killed Rabbit?” Chief Badger spoke up.
“I’ll say this. It seems doubtful,” said Mouse thoughtfully. “But he saw something, hence his post-traumatic amnesia.”
“Am— What?” asked Badgercat distrustfully.
“Amnesia. Memory loss,” said Mouse. “My professional opinion is this. I’d say that coyote Yote is an animal who’s suffered a profound childhood trauma, but he doesn’t have the earmarks of a murderer.”
“And I’d say that an animal who’s suffered a profound childhood trauma could easily lose his mind as a result of said trauma and become a murderer. And eat a rabbit,” countered Badgercat.
“Not everyone with a traumatic childhood necessarily eats a rabbit,” answered Mouse dryly.
“What are you hinting at?”
“I’m not hinting at anything. I’m a psychologist and a professional, and I’m only stating what I find to be true. Certain cats, on the other hand, who were abandoned in the Far Woods in early infancy, ought to respect the opinion of…”
“I’m a Badgercat! I am Assistant Chief Badger of the Far Woods Police! How dare a mouse try to teach me how to behave!”
“Colleagues, please stop arguing,” said Chief Badger wearily. “And keep it down. This is an investigation, not some cat-and-mouse game. Let’s all calm down, and let the respected psychologist draw up a psychological profile of the perpetrator: Rabbit’s murderer.”
“All right,” said Mouse coldly.
Chief Badger handed her a piece of coal and some birch bark, and Mouse began drawing, sticking out her tongue in concentration.
“The perpetrator is very sneaky,” mumbled Mouse, moving the coal rapidly. “Scheming even. He is very good at putting on an act. This is someone quite unsuspecting. He’s good at disguising himself. And he—or she—masterfully plays the victim. There. It’s ready.” The psychologist showed her sketch.
Chief Badger and Badgercat looked at the bark. It showed a meek, friendly face framed by a fluffy cloud of fur, complete with two soft long ears.
&nbs
p; “But that…,” staggered Badgercat. “That looks like…Mrs. Rabbit. No way! Nonsense! I don’t believe it! With all due respect, Wolf and Yote don’t have alibis and have clear motives, so…”
“Excuse me,” came a frightened voice from the doorway. “My name is Buck.”
Beetle bug Buck stepped through the door and cautiously stood in the center of the room, holding a white leaf. Buck’s legs trembled slightly, causing the leaf to flutter as if it were blowing in the breeze.
“What’s this?” squinted Badgercat. “A snack delivery? But why is there only one portion? Is it okay if I eat him? My stomach is growling.”
Buck’s trembling amplified, and he took a few steps toward the wall, trying to calculate how fast he could scamper up on to the ceiling.
“Oh, he wants a hunt!” Badgercat poised himself to pounce.
“He has a white leaf,” said Chief Badger.
“So? I’ll spit out the leaf.”
“Spit it out? When was the last time you reviewed the laws of the woods?” Chief Badger fumed. “If insects are carrying a white leaf, they fall under the Witness Protection Law and eating them is illegal.” He turned to Buck. “Are you here with information about something?”
“Yes…about…Ra—”
“Sorry, what?”
“About Rabbit’s murder.” Buck pulled himself together. “But can I crawl on to the ceiling? I’ll be more comfortable there.”
“Go ahead,” allowed Badger. “We’re listening.”
CHAPTER 12: IN WHICH BEETLES HAVE AN IDEAL SENSE OF TIME
“Wolf and Coyote are innocent,” said Buck from the ceiling.
“But they don’t have alibis,” said Badgercat, flicking his tail.
“I’m their alibi,” said Buck. “Wolf dropped me.”
In the Wolf's Lair Page 4