On the tenth floor we stepped off into a large lobby. The polar bears didn't wait for me to become familiar with the room as they pulled me to the left and down a hallway to the fifth polished, tan, wooden door on the right side. One bear opened the door and I was hauled through a reception room three times as large as my office. We passed a young female raccoon hard at work on a manual typewriter. Add this up with two body guards, dimwitted or not, a secretary, a reception area in a plush office building and it all said Mr. Uchi had bank notes to burn. Which made me wonder who he worked for besides Mr. Bryn Nelson.
Without knocking, the duo entered Mr. Uchi's office, saying, “Here he is, boss.”
The fennec fox, who already was looking at the door when we entered, snarled, “What have I told you two about knocking?”
The polar bears stopped. They turned to look at one another.
Before either one spoke, Mr. Uchi rolled his eyes and laid back his ears. “Never mind!” He pointed to the door. “Get out.”
“Boss, uh, what about Mr. Snow? You want us to take him out too?”
“No, you cretins. Get out and close the door.” The fennec rubbed his face.
The two bears looked at each other and I couldn't help but ponder if they were bewildered about how to obey the fennec's orders when it clashed with his earlier order to not let me leave their sight. A sound from the fennec decided their course of action and they left together, colliding at the door. The two growled at each other and slapped each other before they squeezed their way through the doorway.
Once the door closed, the Fennec sighed and looked at me in disappointment. “I swear I'm going to trade them both in for a respectable badger.”
Mr. Uchi's office was quite functional. A large ash wood desk dominated the space, with a high chair to accommodate his diminutive stature. Two pine chairs in different sizes for the comfort of his guests stood nearby. He had a functional Birch limb desk lamp on his right in addition to the overhead lighting. A small book rack stood to my left with photographs of the city at night and a large office window showed off the skyline behind him.
Out of the ordinary was the right wall. Plastered on it was a detailed map of the city with colored stick pins here and there. This caught my attention, though I didn't walk up to it, but rather I sauntered up to the chair made for my size and sat, uninvited.
Mr. Uchi eyed me but said nothing.
I began our conversation in an antagonistic tone, “Being animal-napped is a criminal act. Not to mention being accosted by those two.” I jerked my thumb at the door as an unnecessary reminder of who I was talking about.
Mr. Uchi reached for a decanter of white wine, a Moscato blend if my nose wasn't mistaken, and poured himself a refill. “In polite company, it's considered good form to doff one's hat.”
Translation, I showed you respect when I came calling, it's only good form to return the compliment. “I don't consider being dragged around town as being polite,” I countered, crossing a leg over the other.
The fennec took a sip. “Perception is nine-tenths of the law. Point of fact, you weren't dragged but escorted. I had a legal right to have you detained, as you failed to honor our earlier discussion, which could not have been mistaken.”
“You'll have to clarify yourself.” I readjusted my position, as my tail hadn't settled right.
“Mr. Snow, let us not play these games. Against Mr. Bryn Nelson's wishes and our discussion earlier, you accepted a commission from Ms. Catharine Nelson to investigate her delinquent uncle's absence. In light of this knowledge, I had you brought here to relinquish your fee, as it was illegally obtained. Now, if you please, you may drop the amount here on my desk and have our business concluded, or you may return tomorrow with the full amount if you're lacking in funds tonight.”
The fact he'd learned I was back on the case miffed me. I had my suspicion who'd informed him. Mitch Vetrov, no doubt. But that was presently uncorroborated. I sought to hide my irritation and casually looked at my fingernails before I answered him. “I'm afraid you have your facts confused. Ms. Catharine Nelson never rehired me. After our meeting, my curiosity got the better of me and I donated my time poking around the museum, as I've no clients at present.”
The fennec took another sip and set his glass down. “Mr. Snow, let's be professionals about this,” he tried to reason. “I'd hate to have my two employees explain the facts of life to you.”
“If you wish a lawsuit on your paws, you can try.” I'd be hard pressed to provide evidence of the alleyway attack while recuperating in the hospital. However, odds were good I could say what I wanted here, as he wouldn't want his office messed up or witnesses.
The fennec sat back in his chair. “I'll give you until tomorrow to return the funds.” He sat back up, taking up a pencil, and jotted down a note. “Five hundred bank notes.” He glanced at me. “That is your fee to begin, yes?”
I snorted, stood, and laying my ears back, I put my paws on his desk so I could lean across to be better heard. “For your information, Ms. Kaia Sundell donated a sum of notes on behalf of Mr. Sullivan's students for me to look in on the matter during my visit to the museum.”
It dawned on me I could've referred to the missing book, ergo mudding up the waters in case he tried to take me to court instead of using his two muscle animals. But then I realized why I hadn't considered it. Diverging too far from the truth can get an animal tongue tied. Lawyers love that. It gives them an opening to put words in your mouth. I learned this early on in my career. After a moment batting that around, I straightened up and added, “Next time you send those two out to fetch me, I'll take it as a personal threat and retaliate.” I turned on my pads and walked to his door.
Before I got there, he said, “I'll of course check out your story. But once I confirm you've lied, I'll have the police pick you up for petty theft.”
This last was said for the benefit of his secretary, as I never stopped my travels to the door and had pulled it open.
****
On the way home I dropped off at Millie Ann's Moonlight Café to get a bite to eat and talk with Joann, if she had the time.
“Hello, sweetie…” Joann smiled at me as I doffed my flat cap, though I could tell she was having a rough day. “What can I get you?”
“How about a clam sandwich?” I whispered, using street slang for vagina while giving her a sideways leer for the fun of it.
Joann leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Keep it up, big wolf, and you'll get nothing tonight.” She stood back straight and said aloud, “Fresh cod it is.” She turned her tail on me to give the order, knowing I'd catch her meaning.
I looked down at that fluffy tail while I enjoyed the sight of her tight-fitting shorts. She has one of those tight butts I could look at all day. She turned her head slightly and gave me a knowing look that I was staring then gave the cook my order.
I smiled and was simply going to sit there and watch her work when I remembered why I'd really dropped off. “Do you have a second, Joann?”
She turned and looked around the room full of patrons. “Not really, but what is it?”
“I'd like to have your help tomorrow concerning the job I'm on. Say about eleven hundred?”
“What's it pay?” she asked seriously.
“Room and board for another night,” I retaliated.
She raised an eyebrow and mouthed, “I thought the clam sandwich covered that?”
I shook my head negative.
She wiggled her nose at me. “You're no fun. Okay, sure.” With that she attended to her customers.
****
Ms. Giselle Deville's burrow was right off the college campus. The building was average-priced, expensive enough to keep out the riffraff, but low enough so students could manage a room if their parents helped out or they succeeded in obtaining a fair-paying job.
“This is sort of fun,” Joann commented, holding my arm possessively as students passed us coming and going. “Tell me again, why am I here?”
<
br /> I looked at the façade of the five-story complex and felt Joann's arm tighten around mine when a particularly fetching black wolf walked past. I gave the wolf a sideways glance to admire her upright, fluffed out tail and answered Joann, turning back to her. “A Mr. Neil Deville told me his sister lived here and on occasion has entertained Mr. Oscar Sullivan, who I am currently looking for.”
“And?” Joann looked me in the eyes and dug her nails into my arm to emphasize she didn't appreciate my looking at the wolf while she stood right there by my side.
I grimaced, showing her I understood, and explained. “Being that's she's a snowshoe hare, I think she's entertaining animals for the bank notes.”
Already miffed at my indiscretion, Joann dropped my arm and glared at me with folded arms under her pink halter top. “For your information, not all hares are prostitutes.”
“But on average, they are,” I countered. “If not, they still entertain a lot of animals; take your sister, for example.” I knew that was the wrong thing to say, but my mind wasn't as fast as my big mouth. Oh shit, you idiot!
Joann reacted as I imagined she might. Her ears laid back. Her eyes showed hurt and anger. She drew in a breath and slapped my muzzle. Her physical treatment of my face gained us unwanted attention from passersby.
“So is that how you see me? Was your proposal only to keep a hare in your bed?”
“No, no!” I corrected, taking up her shoulders with both my paws. “I didn't mean it that way.”
She tried to draw away but I held her firm. “Look, Joann, I'm sorry. What I meant was there is a symbiosis between herbivores and carnivores with our intelligence.”
She glared at me, half-heartedly trying to break free.
I hurried on. “Instincts play largely in all animal daily lives. Even with our intelligence the old needs of predator and prey are still there. However, for us it's been incorporated into our sexual adventures. When I have my jaws around your throat, a wave of euphoria washes over me sensing your life blood below the skin, hearing your breath flow so cleanly in and out of your lungs and testing your heightened arousal knowing your life is in my jaws. This is but one of the physical attractions between you and me. It's why meat eaters go to hare prostitutes. To feel that sense of ecstasy before concluding the experience in sexual release.”
Joann snorted. I let her turn her back on me lest she take my words wrong and kick me between the legs.
“Joann, honey?” I put my muzzle against her blue hair and nuzzled the side of her head. “I love you.”
Her ears relaxed, which told me she was thinking. After a few seconds Joann turned her head slightly. “I will admit in sex education, all the female hares were singled out and told, in somewhat more detail, what you just said.” Her ears quivered. “I need to know, is it only that act which draws you to me, or do you feel more for me?”
I turned her around. “I'll admit kissing you ranks second in my book.”
Joann's eyes narrowed, not liking my humor at the present time.
“But your large gray eyes,” I hurried on as she shifted her darker-pink-shorts-covered hips so her weight was mostly on her left leg. This freed up her right leg if she wished to put it into action. “The way you look at me turns my heart into putty.”
Her body relaxed and her eyes softened. I pulled her close and we hugged.
“Okay, handsome. So what do I do?”
I sighed in relief and let her go. “Quite simply, you talk to her hare to hare.”
“About?”
“When was the last time she saw Mr. Oscar Sullivan? What kind of mood was he in when he arrived and when he left? Did he say where he might go? Does he see any other females?”
“Where will you be?”
“Down the hall. I want her to focus on your questions, not how much eyelash-batting or hints it'd take to get me in her bed.”
Joann huffed. “Braxton, you may be ruggedly good looking, and your scent attractive, but not all females want to drag you to bed like I do.”
I rolled my eyes. “Joann, you're missing my point. She pays her rent by sexing males. It doesn't matter if she's attracted to me or not. If I'm there, she'll wish to get some bank notes out of me.”
She wiggled her cute nose, and I detected a hint of jealousy in her eyes. “Okay, fine. But you owe me.”
“What would you like?”
She smiled, tiptoed and kissed my muzzle. “A carrot cake.”
I laughed in my throat. “Done.” I swatted her fluffy tail. “Let's get moving.”
Joann jumped and turned her head. “Letch.”
****
Ms. Giselle Deville's burrow was on the fifth floor. Coincidently, her apartment was next to the fire escape. I gathered this was how she got customers in and out of the building without the superintendent having to complain about the traffic. We'd stepped out from the open stairway and started down the hallway when Ms. Deville's door opened and a female arctic fox, dressed in a beige blouse, yellow sash and khaki pants, stepped out. The two were about to shake paws when I called out loud enough for them to hear.
“Ms. Pierpont?”
The arctic fox snapped her head around to us, and in an instant, she was at the window and throwing it open.
“Ms. Pierpont,” I shouted. I took up Joann's arm as Ms. Pierpont ignored my call and dove out the window. “Stay with Ms. Deville and see what she wanted.”
I left Joann at a run. I nodded and tipped my flat cap at a startled Ms. Deville. “Good day,” I said and out the window I went. A quick look showed Ms. Pierpont had already hit the third landing. Damn, she's fast.
The arctic fox wasted no glance up but kept right on descending at a pace an Olympic runner would be envious of. Understanding I'd never catch her this way, I first tried to reason with her. “Ms. Pierpont, I just want to talk!” I hit the fourth landing. She hit the second without any signs of slowing. This caused me to be reckless. I vaulted the railing and leaped for the fire escape across the alleyway. She hit the ground as I slammed into the second landing, almost missing. I scrambled and grabbed. She sprinted for the street. I dropped the three and a half meters to the stone alley, {12' 3”}. She disappeared around the corner, heading right. Gritting my teeth, I sprang in pursuit. I rounded the building corner to discover Ms. Pierpont with two police Dobermans. She sighted me, pointed and screamed before she charged off. The alerted police did as expected. They pulled their pistols.
One shouted, “Halt or we'll shoot!”
Dammit! I cussed, not wishing to be apprehended and hauled into the police department, only then to be asked to explain myself. Fortunately for me, the street wasn't bare of traffic, so I did the fastest U-turn I'd made in a long time and sprinted back into the alleyway. Once there I opened up my strides, hauling my tail double-time out the other side into a crowded street. Still hearing their pursuit by the slap of pads on the stones behind me, I shot across traffic, upsetting a rickshaw, and made it down another alleyway.
Most domestic animals by now would be breathing through their mouths. I, on the other paw, being originally from a county clan, kept pulling lungs full of air through my nose, for once an animal began to breathe out of his mouth, the race was over. My pursuers, however, were police-trained Dobermans, who by necessity had to pass a class in breathing. What was worse, they were ten or more years younger than I.
Out on the street, I spied the college park and took the chase out into green grasses, picnic tables, benches, barbeque pits, and startled animals enjoying the sunshine. I leaped over benches and vaulted over animals lying on blankets while I kept my strides even and unwavering. This was a test of endurance and training. Being older didn't mean better trained, but in my account, my country training in navigating obstacles won out. After vaulting over one more couple, I hit the street on the opposite side and reached another alleyway. Out the opposite side I slowed and ducked into a discount store. I walked unhurriedly to the back bathrooms where I went into the males' relief center. Grabbing the
wash basin, I took in long deep breaths through my mouth.
Damn, I'm out of shape. I accused myself. I've allowed this city living to soften me up. Hell, there was a time I could've run like that for over an hour before shifting to a stride I could run at for the rest of the day. I looked in the mirror at my chest working, my mouth open and my tongue lolling out. Shit! I pulled my tongue in and licked my dry lips. I reached up and felt my bare scalp. I lost my good flat cap. I turned from the mirror and crossed my arms in annoyance. “I really liked that flat cap.”
My ears swiveled to the approach of pads closing on the door. Not wishing to be seen yet, I entered a stall and dropped my pants. Might as well, as I'm here. I heard a door open and close. I heaved a sigh, as it wasn't the males' room door. I finished up and washed off my paws in the sink. Breathing normally, I walked out of the males' convenience room and browsed the garments until something struck my fancy. Deciding it would be best to change clothes, I entered a changing booth and donned brown cotton pants, a tan cotton short-sleeve shirt, dark brown vest, and applied a new light gray flat cap to my head. After a check in the mirror I laid down notes for the whole lot. Just outside the department store, I adjusted the snaps on the flat cap, settled it comfortably on my brow and began my walk back to Ms. Giselle Deville's burrow.
Joann was outside the apartments when I arrived. She eyed me and my newly-acquired clothes as I approached. “You could have asked if I wanted to do some clothes shopping too, you know.”
“Unforeseen circumstances.” I shrugged, glad of the walk to keep my legs from cramping after that run while I flexed arms and shoulders to work out the bruising after I hit the fire escape badly.
“Mm hmm. Did you at least catch who you were after?” Joann took note of my actions and sought to see if I'd cut myself, which I hadn't.
“No dice, ouch!” I reacted to her paws pressing upon my side. “That's one quick fox.”
“That's going to bruise something awful.” She looked into my eyes, worried-like. “You're getting to old to run amok after animals. You could've broken a rib, by the look of things.”
Braxton Snow P.I. (The Snow Adventures Book 1) Page 10