In the Wolf's Lair

by Starobinets, Anna; Bugaeva, Jane; Muravski, Marie

  “Let’s start from the beginning,” said Chief Badger.

  “As you know, Wolf loves munching on roasted bee—bee—beetles,” Buck forced out. “The night of Rabbit’s murder… Rabbit, by the way, never hurt a single bug in his whole life, his wife either, or their children, may they all live healthy lives…”

  “Let’s get to the point,” said Badgercat.

  “So that night, Wolf was gathering us beetles in his big basket. That basket… Oh, that basket which smells of fear and death! A torture chamber for generations and generations of beetles! My aunt, twice removed, once told me…”

  “Please get to the point,” seconded Chief Badger.

  “Of course. To the point. Who cares about the ruined lives of some random bugs? And so that night Wolf had caught me and my wife, Betty, in his basket. We were doomed. We…”

  “At what time?”

  “What?”

  “At what time did Wolf catch you in his basket?” asked Chief Badger.

  “At 7:30 p.m.,” said Buck. “So there we were, sitting in the basket, hugging, our antennae tightly interlaced, crying over our newborn and unborn larvae, who were going to be orphaned…”

  “Bug Buck,” said Mouse, “I’d like…”

  “You’d like for me to get to the point. I understand.”

  “No, no, I was going to say that I’d like to offer you and all your relatives my condolences. You have a very hard life.”

  “Thank you,” Buck nodded solemnly. “And so as Betty and I were bidding farewell to each other and our lives, we suddenly heard Wolf emit a terrible howl. Then the world around us turned upside down. Wolf had dropped his basket. We were free! We began crawling as fast as we could, as far away as possible. But I spotted what had frightened Wolf. It was Rabbit’s tail in the grass. And I heard Wolf howl, ‘Now-oooo they’ll pin the murder on me! I woooould’ve been better off eating him myself!’ Then Wolf picked up his empty basket and ran off.”

  “How long were you in Wolf’s basket?” asked Chief Badger.

  “An eternity!” lamented Buck.

  “Could you be a bit more specific?” Badger was all business. “It’s of utmost importance to the investigation.”

  “Of course.” Buck was insulted. “Specifics are important. But no one cares about the feelings of a simple beetle.”

  “Buck, please,” protested Mouse, “your feelings are important too. You experienced a serious psychological trauma. I can offer you and your wife five free therapy sessions if you can remember how long you were in that basket.”

  “I won’t say no to the therapy,” said Buck, “but I also want protection from being eaten. For myself, my wife, and our larvae. For life. I want full protection in the Far Woods.”

  Mouse glanced at Chief Badger inquisitively.

  “All right,” he nodded. “You’ll be granted immunity. I suppose you deserve it for your brave actions. And now let’s get to the question at hand. How long were you in the basket?”

  “One hundred and thirty-five minutes and forty-three seconds,” Buck blurted out. “We beetles have an ideal sense of time.”

  “One hundred and thirty-five minutes,” muttered Chief Badger. “That’s two hours and fifteen minutes…”

  “…And forty-three seconds,” added Buck.

  “And forty-three seconds, yes. So, according to the witness’s testimony, Wolf was gathering beetles for two hours and fifteen minutes, starting at 7:30 p.m. And the murder occurred between 8:30 p.m. and 9:30 p.m., which means…”

  “Which means that Wolf has an alibi,” Badgercat finished for Chief Badger. “Which means Wolf isn’t the murderer.”

  “But that’s not all,” said Buck, not without pride. “I saw someone else at the scene of the crime.”

  “Who?” asked the police badgers and Mouse in unison.

  “About a minute after Wolf had run off—we beetles, you see, crawl quite slowly, so we were still near the scene of the crime. Anyway, about a minute later we saw coyote Yote. He’d come from the direction of Rabbit’s burrow. He was running through the clearing and yelling like a lunatic, ‘Where are you, Rabbit? You’re a goner, Rabbit!’ Then he noticed Rabbit’s tail in the grass. He sniffed it and began laughing and crying and rolling around on the ground. He kept yelling, ‘Who did this to you, my dear friend?’ Then he got up, shook himself off, and looked around, dumbfounded. I must admit, there was a crazed look in his eyes. Then he suddenly blurted out, ‘What am I doing? How did I get here? And what’s this strange piece of fur on the ground?’ And then he fled in the direction of the tavern, laughing.”

  “And you can tell us the exact time you saw the coyote at the scene of the crime?” asked Chief Badger eagerly.

  “Absolutely.” Buck wiggled his right antennae smugly. “At 9:47:44 p.m.”

  “I see.” Badger took a deep breath and turned to Badgercat. “And your witness, Fox, said she saw Yote leaving the Tree Knot at…?”

  “At 9:00 p.m. Which means that from 9:00 p.m. to 9:47 p.m. no one saw the coyote. In that time he could have easily killed and eaten Rabbit and then pretended to accidently stumble upon Rabbit’s tail.”

  “Pretended? In front of whom?” asked Mouse.

  “In front of the beetles,” said Badgercat, irritated. “In front of himself. How do I know what goes on in a crazy animal’s mind. That’s your job—to explain who he was pretending in front of!”

  “My professional psychological opinion is that your mannerisms are too catlike for a police badger,” said Mouse, annoyed.

  “Stop bickering!” ordered Chief Badger. “Instead of turning on each other, why don’t you turn on your brains and help sort out the details of the murder! Buck said that Yote came from the direction of Rabbit’s burrow. Right?”

  “Right,” nodded Buck.

  “That’s in the opposite direction of the tavern. Which means that upon leaving the Tree Knot, Yote headed to Rabbit’s burrow first. And only afterward to the clearing. This is corroborated by the starling recording made that night. So Yote showed up at Rabbit’s burrow, threatening him, but Rabbit wasn’t home. It takes at least fifteen minutes to get from the tavern to Rabbit’s burrow, and that’s running fast. Add another five minutes of hysterics and threats at the burrow. Okay, so by now it’s 9:20 p.m. and Yote leaves the burrow and heads toward the clearing. That’s another fifteen minutes and only if he used the most direct route. So let’s say that Yote is in the clearing by 9:35 p.m.”

  “That leaves twelve minutes until 9:47 p.m., when the witness reports seeing Yote,” said Badgercat. “Yote doesn’t have an alibi for those twelve minutes.”

  “True,” agreed Chief Badger. “But is Yote capable of killing, ripping to shreds, chewing, and swallowing a victim the size of Rabbit in twelve minutes?”

  “Psychopaths are capable of anything,” said Badgercat.

  “All right,” nodded Badger. “But there’s another snag. Vulture, the crime scene investigator, said that the traces of blood on Rabbit’s tail indicate that the crime was committed between 8:30 p.m. and 9:30 p.m. But we just concluded that Yote couldn’t have been in the clearing before 9:35 p.m. Not to mention, according to Buck’s testimony, Yote was genuinely surprised and shocked by Rabbit’s death. Which means…” Chief Badger paused dramatically.

  “Which means coyote Yote is also innocent,” gloated Mouse, staring at Badgercat.

  “But then who?” Badgercat was at a loss. “Who…?” he stammered, suddenly catching sight of the psychological profile drawn up by Mouse on the birch bark. He stared at the long, delicate, fluffy ears.

  “Idiot! I’m such an idiot!” Badgercat let out his claws in a helpless rage.

  Mouse nodded in agreement but moved away from Badgercat just in case.

  “I was busy going after and accusing the innocent, while all along it was her! Mrs. Rabbit! It was definitely Mrs. Rabbit! She had a clear motive. If her breadwinner was murdered, she was entitled to the murderer’s den. She staged everything to make it look
like Wolf killed Rabbit in order to get his den! And she discussed everything ahead of time with the lawyer owls, enlisting their help!”

  “And she was so sure her plan would work, that she began renovating Wolf’s den before the trail,” added Chief Badger. “She and the owls probably weren’t planning on Yote getting involved, but since he was added to the list of suspects, the owls decided to demand free vegetables from the Tree Knot Tavern as additional compensation.”

  “What a ruthless, cunning, predatory doe!” yelped Badgercat. “We’ve got to arrest her immediately!” And with those words, he tore out of the police station.

  “I’m certain that she’s not in that den anymore,” said Chief Badger calmly. “I assume she’s fled.”

  “You’re right,” nodded Mouse. “Fleeing is right in line with the murderer’s psychological profile.”

  She took the coal and added long eyelashes to the fluffy face on the bark, and it became the spitting image of Mrs. Rabbit.

  When Badgercat retuned to the station—completely soaked through and shivering, his whiskers drooping and his snout washed clean of any stripes—Chief Badger, psychologist Mouse, beetle bug Buck, and coyote Yote were drinking tea, eating cookies, and talking amicably.

  “Mrs. Rabbit’s gone,” he reported in a dejected voice. “She left her litter of kits with her cousin’s aunt and ran off.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Chief Badger calmly, biting into another cookie.

  “How can you just sit around drinking tea, when a criminal is walking around scot-free?” Badgercat was indignant.

  “Tea is very calming. You ought to have a cup yourself.”

  “But Mrs. Rabbit’s gone! She could be anywhere!”

  “I think I have an idea where she is,” said Badger calmly.

  “Then let’s go! Let’s get her!”

  “It’s raining. It’s dark. It’s windy.” Badger frowned. “And it’s almost night. No, we aren’t going anywhere right now. Tea sounds much better.”

  “Tomorrow morning then? We’ll head out at dawn. By the way, where are we heading?”

  “The Near Woods. But tomorrow’s no good either. We’ll go the day after tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m busy tomorrow,” said Badger. “Mole is installing a heated floor in my den.”

  “A heated floor?” reeled Badgercat. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ah, a heated floor,” Badger smiled dreamily. “It’ll be so warm and cozy for hibernating on…”

  He’s lost his mind, thought Badgercat. Chief Badger is officially senile. It’s time to retire. A murderer is on the loose, and all he can think about is a heated floor? Badgercat was about to open his mouth to say this out loud but looked into Chief Badger’s kind, peaceful, fatherly face and had a change of heart.

  “So, a cup of tea then?” asked Badger, placing a cookie into Badgercat’s open mouth.

  CHAPTER 13: IN WHICH THE OWLS TRIUMPH

  The thin layer of frozen dew that covered the grass, the twigs, and the fallen leaves crunched beneath them, lightly burning yet pleasantly tickling their paw pads, which had grown unaccustomed to touching frost during the warm months. They were running through the woods at a gentle jog—otherwise Chief Badger couldn’t keep up with Badgercat—huffing, sniffing about, and squinting from the bright light. It was a cold and sunny day, the first hint of the coming winter and a final memory of the recent summer. Above the police badgers, in the blindingly blue sky over the bare trees, the lawyer owls hovered, hooting irritably.

  “They’re following us,” said Badgercat. “Have you noticed, Chief? They’ve been with us since we left the Far Woods police station. We’re in the Near Woods already, and they’re still circling up above like vultures.”

  “Who’s to say they’re in the wrong?” panted Badger. “They’re locals here. They could be just flying home.”

  “Right. By the way, why are you so sure Mrs. Rabbit is hiding out here in the Near Woods?”

  “I’ve got my reasons,” said Badger cryptically. He adjusted his backpack which had slid off his shoulder.

  “What’s that sloshing in your backpack?” asked Badgercat.

  “Just some water.”

  “So what are your reasons?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “So you’re not going to share them with me?” Badgercat was getting angry. “Well, there you have it. Besides, we’ve already lost two days while you were getting your floor done. She’s probably already gone.”

  “Who knows?” said Badger absentmindedly, sniffing the air. “Who knows?”

  “That smell!” Badgercat suddenly inhaled enthusiastically. “Smells like mice tails. No?”

  “I’m getting rotten stumps and worms.”

  “But mostly mice tails.”

  “Eating mice is illegal,” Badger reminded him.

  “But maybe here in the Near Woods it’s okay? The laws are different here. Right?”

  “For a police badger, eating mice is always illegal,” said Badger sternly.

  “What if I just eat the tails and leave the rest alone?”

  “What if I just rip out your whiskers and leave the rest alone?”

  “There they are! Look!” yelped Badgercat. “The mice tails! Just the tails without the mice!”

  “Indeed.” Badger stared at a bundle of mice tails hanging from a gnarled stump. “Without the mice. How very strange.”

  “Here in the Near Woods this is normal!” yelled the lawyer owls from up above. “We always hang treats for our dear guests! We’re very welcoming here, unlike some other woods!”

  “Well, if that’s the case,” Badgercat readied himself to pounce. “How generous of you!”

  “Wait!” yelled Chief Badger. “It’s a trap!”

  But it was too late. As Badgercat leaped onto the stump, the ground shook, emitting a dull echoing sound, like the roar of a huge rabid beast who’d just spotted his prey. And a second later the stump, along with Badgercat and even Badger standing nearby, fell into a deep pit. There was another sound too—a gurgle—as if the rabid beast had swallowed his prey and smacked his lips.

  “Whoo whoo whoo!” hooted the owls happily from the sky. “Whoo could’ve thought these Far Woods animals would be so stupid? They fell into the trap! They won’t be able to get out! They’ll be flooded by the groundwater. We’ve got lots of underground rivers here in the Near Woods. They’ll surely perish and then our scavengers will eat them! After all, here in the Near Woods all animals have the right to eat one another!”

  CHAPTER 14: IN WHICH THE ELECTRICITY RUNS OUT

  “We’re done for,” whispered Badgercat. “There’s no way we can get out.” In the center of his green irises, his black pupils had grown huge from fear. They looked like two deep traps sticking out of the grass. “We’ll drown. The groundwater will flood us. Look, the water level is already rising! Then the scavengers will eat us. It’s not illegal here.” Badgercat tucked his tail between his legs and began trembling.

  “Let’s not panic,” said Chief Badger calmly.

  “It’s my fault we fell in!” wailed Badgercat. “I jumped onto the stump! I got us into this mess! All for some stupid mice tails. Why did I give in to them? As if I’m some cat! The crackling… Do you hear that crackling? What’s that awful sound? It’s probably the scavengers already making their way here!”

  “Pipe down,” ordered Badger. “You’re scaring Ray.”

  “Who?”

  “The electric ray. That’s what was sloshing in my backpack. He’s the one crackling out of fear because you won’t stop wailing. If you don’t calm down, he’ll use up all his electricity and won’t be able to help us. And then we really will be done for.”

  “Where did you get a ray from?” asked Badgercat, surprised.

  “From Desman. He’s part of his renovations crew. He installs heated floors.”

  “Oh, really?” Badgercat began laughing hysterically. “He’ll be of great help the
n! He’ll install a heated floor for us here in this pit!”

  “If you’ll just be quiet for a minute, he’ll help. He’ll generate a series of electric shocks that Mole will feel.”

  “Mole?”

  “From the renovations crew. He installs heated floors.”

  “Have you completely lost your mind, Chief? So you installed a heated floor. So what? Do you really have to keep going on and on about it? Like right now? We’re doomed, standing on death’s doorstep, and all you can talk about is heated floor this and heated floor that!”

  “I didn’t install a heated floor,” said Chief Badger.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t install a heated floor, you clueless animal. You really thought that I, the Chief of Police, would have postponed a murder investigation to install a heated floor? I was working out a plan of action and recruiting Mole and Ray. Ray, you ready?” Ray eagerly lit up in the water that was pooling at the bottom of the pit. “Okay then, generate the shock!”

  The pit shuddered. Badgercat felt as if someone invisible had run a thin, sharp claw from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, covering his whole body in goose bumps.

  “Another! And another!”

  Clods of soil plopped into the water. Badgercat and Badger’s fur was so electrified, it stood on end. Ray’s light began blinking and crackling and then went out completely.

  “All right, Mole, find us,” whispered Badger. “Come on. Don’t let us down.”

  They stood in the pit, waiting silently, as it slowly filled with water. Ray had used up all his electricity and couldn’t produce any more shocks. He couldn’t even illuminate the pit. Meanwhile, the round piece of sky above them had turned a dark gray—it was evening. The pit grew dark and cold like a grave.

  “We’re not going to make it,” said Badgercat quietly. “Chief Badger, I want to ask you a very important question before it’s all over. Promise me you’ll tell me the truth.”

  “I promise.”

  “Cat or badger? That is the question. Who am I, Chief?”

  “All right, I’ll tell you,” Badger sighed heavily. “You’re a…”