Marked Fur Murder (31 page)

[Quite right. I apologize for inadvertently invoking a metaphor that was situationally awkward, and follow that with congratulations to Mr. Montain on retaining said weather phenomena for himself. Does this mean you're departing for some sort of extradimensional college, or will we have the pleasure of once more enjoying your daily cuisine?]

Ben laughed. “I'm coming back to the kitchen, Whiskey. Foxtrot convinced me to stick around for a while, anyway. But yeah, looks like I'll be studying with Professor Firstcharger, too.”

Tango gave an annoyed flick of her head.

Ben bent down and stroked Tango's back. “It won't be like that, kitty. I think we'll do most of it in Thunderspace. What do you say we celebrate with some of those CatYummi treats you like so much?”

“Where to?”

Ben grinned. He has one helluva grin. “Right.”

“Got it.” Tango trotted away, then stopped and looked back. Ben surrendered to the inevitable and followed her. “Guess I know what I'm doing for the foreseeable future.”

“Don't be too hard on Fran
ç
ois,” I called after him. “He knows he's only temporary.”

“He better not have rearranged my pots…”

Whiskey and I watched them go. [Well. That seems to have worked out.]

“One crisis down. Well, two, actually; three if you count my love life. A good morning.”

[One that's barely started. The sun just came up.]

“Oh, right, the time difference thing. Hey, if we hurry we can still make breakfast. I am
starving
.”

But then I heard the sirens.

As I realized they were getting closer, I broke into a run, Whiskey at my heels. Oh, well—three solutions forward, one problem back. That's a dance step I'm all too familiar with: the Catastrophe Foxtrot, named after its creator and most experienced practitioner.

I just hoped nobody else had died.

*   *   *

The sirens, it turned out, were those of a police vehicle as opposed to fire or ambulance. It seemed Sheriff Brower had decided to make a spectacular entrance—either that or he'd forgotten how to work the on/off switch for the siren, which was also entirely plausible. The amount of respect I have for Brower is equivalent to the admiration Tango has for swimming dogs, which is zero. She likes to watch them, though; when I asked why, she made an optimistic reference to sharks and drowning.

I sighed as I walked into the house via the back door, and wondered if Brower ever went to the beach. Maybe I could send him a surfboard anonymously. And a one-way ticket to Australia.

I found him in the foyer, talking to ZZ. Brower's in his sixties, with thinning white hair and a protruding belly; ZZ's around the same age, but she carries her years with a great deal more grace and style. Today's style was an art-print T-shirt of Godzilla stomping on Rush Limbaugh, with black yoga pants and gladiator sandals. Brower was dressed like a sheriff, or at least someone who liked to pretend he was one.

“And I'm telling you, ZZ,” Brower fumed, “I have a warrant for her arrest. I know she's staying here, so tell me where she is!”

“If you have a warrant, show it to me,” ZZ said pleasantly. She had this trick where she would match her politeness and cordiality to the other person's belligerence, becoming nicer and nicer as her victim got more and more upset. Brower always seemed to fall for it.

“It's just a figure of speech,” said Brower. “It means I have a good reason to arrest her and that's what I'm going to do.”

Brower seems to have gleaned most of his legal knowledge from watching cop shows and action movies. “It's not just a figure of speech,” I said. “It's an actual, real document. You don't need one to arrest her, of course—but you do need to have some kind of reason. Who are we talking about?”

I was secretly hoping it was Teresa Firstcharger, but Brower surprised me by saying, “Theodora Bonkle. I know she's here, so you'd best give her up.”

I knew Brower wasn't going to give me any more information than he had to, but I had to ask. “On what charges?”

“I don't have to answer that unless you're her lawyer. Are you?”

“No. But I am the one that can probably locate her.”

“Then do it. I'll wait.”

I looked to ZZ for guidance, since it was her call. She nodded and said, “Go ahead, dear. Give her a call and see if you can find her, anyway.”

I pulled out my phone, got Theodora's number and hit call. She answered right away. “Hello?”

“Hi, Theodora, it's Foxtrot. How's your day going?”

“Oh, fine, fine. Last night was somewhat eventful, but a good night's rest has put it all in perspective. And you?”

“Oh, you know—same old same old. Listen, there's a police officer here who would like to talk to you. Do you have any idea why?”

“Yes, I'm reasonably certain I do. I expect he wants to arrest me.”

“Why?”

“Well, that's a bit of a tale. Is there any chance I could regale you with it over a hot cup of tea?”

“Fine by me. Just hold on a second.” As I talked I used one thumb to turn the sound all the way down, then took the phone from my ear and looked at it in irritation. “Damn. I got cut off. Sorry, Sheriff. ZZ, can I try yours?”

ZZ has the same model of phone as I do. I took hers and pretended to call Theodora back. “Can't get a connection. Oh, well, I'm sure she'll call back.” I casually pretended to hand ZZ's phone to her, but palmed it at the last second while surreptitiously slipping my own phone into my pocket. Now that I had both phones I breezily said, “Well, I was just on my way to grab some breakfast. I'll let you know if she calls back—”

Brower held up one beefy hand. “Foxtrot. Give me your phone, please.”

“Why?”

“So you can't call Miss Bonkle back and warn her. You think I was born yesterday? Now give it here or I'll charge you with obstruction of justice.”

I resisted the urge to make any sort of reply, and instead handed him ZZ's phone with a resentful frown. ZZ herself didn't say a word, just smiled at me in a
Good job, dear,
sort of way. Then I turned around, marched resentfully away, and once I was out of sight in the kitchen I put my own phone up to my ear and turned the volume back up. “Sorry about that. Earl Grey okay?”

“Splendid.”

“And where am I bringing it to?”

“Ah. Well, that's a bit unusual, I'm afraid. I'm in an animal pen of some sort. In the menagerie.”

“Um. Which one?”

“I'm not sure, honestly. I was following Doc and Very; it was their idea, you see. In hindsight that may not have been the wisest course of action, but I was feeling a bit anxious.”

Anxious enough to follow your hallucinatory friends into a wild animal pen, I thought. I just hoped it wasn't the jaguar or that boar with the enormous tusks. “Look around you, Theodora. Tell me what you see.”

“I'm in a small, shed-like enclosure. There's some straw on the floor, which I'm reclining on. I had thought I was alone, but I see now there's something in the corner under the straw. Not terribly large, perhaps the size of a beaver. White fur, with darkish bits. Can't see it terribly well.”

“White fur with darkish—wait, like white on top and dark on the bottom?”

“Ah, it's shifting a bit. Yes, that seems to be accurate. Looks a bit like an oversized skunk, really, though it doesn't smell like one.”

I swallowed. “I'll be right there, Theodora. Whatever you do, don't antagonize it.”

And then I was running, the phone still to my ear, calling out mentally for Tango to meet me
immediately
.

At the honey badger pen.

*   *   *

Honey badgers, for those of you who aren't familiar, are native to South Africa. In terms of durability, attitude, and behavior, they make a wolverine look like a field mouse. Their skin is so tough it can deflect arrows, they will eat
anything
—including hooves and horns—and seem to be incapable of fear. A honey badger is like a small, stubborn, hungry tank, one that considers lions a minor annoyance and cobras a tasty snack. Their totem animal is Chuck Norris.

And now Theodora had invaded a honey badger's home. Well, not its actual home—it was staying in a temporary pen while Caroline made some modifications to its old one. Honey badgers are also smart, and if you aren't very, very careful, they'll escape.

And this honey badger, unfortunately, I knew all too well.

I heard Tango in my head before I saw her.

Theodora's in the pen with the honey badger.

Owduttf
was an acronym for what the honey badger claimed was its name: “One Who Does Unspeakable Things To Foxtrot.” That was the short, paraphrased version, as the real thing went on for a while, making it hard to pronounce.

Also, it was horrifying. And extremely personal.

I got there at the same time as Tango. “Okay, Theodora, I'm here,” I said into my phone. “What's the honey badger doing?”

“Snuffling, mainly. He knows I'm here but hasn't approached. Doesn't seem all that bothered, really.”

Which meant nothing. Honey badgers didn't really get bothered, they just wreaked destruction. “Just stay still for a moment, okay?”

“I shall, certainly. But I'm afraid I can't say the same for Doc or Very.”

“Just—just let them do their own thing. I don't think the badger will notice.”

Let's start by getting his attention
. Fortunately, Tango spoke fluent Honey Badger.
Hey, Owduttf!
I thought.
Long time no see
!

Tango listened to my thoughts, then translated them into a series of grunts, snorts, and chuffing. After a moment, a reply in the same vein issued from inside the enclosure, and the conversation was on.

Possibly. I'm not breakfast
itself,
if that's what you're asking
.

“The beast,” said Theodora in my ear, “is making an awful lot of noise. Very says it's having a conversation with another badger outside. Also, he's disappointed that there doesn't seem to be any actual honey about.”

“Just stay put and keep quiet for a minute, okay? I'm trying to convince your roommate of your good intentions.”

like
some breakfast? I have a large supply of fresh meat inside.>

Um. No. No, definitely not. In fact, I'd kind of appreciate it if you'd let that meat go
.

Outside. Where I am
.

I don't. But the meat is—well, not meat.

“It's uh, coming toward me.”

No! Look, just come outside and talk. Don't bring the—don't bring anything.

The honey badger shuffled out into the bright morning sunshine, bits of straw stuck to it, and yawned with a mouth full of short, pointy teeth.

“I'm surprised you translated that,” I said out loud.

“Surprised I translated what?”

I suppose I deserve that.
This was starting to get confusing, so I told Theodora to stay where she was until she heard from me and hung up my phone. Then I turned back to Owduttf and concentrated on just talking to him. “Okay. There's a friend of mine in your house. Please let them leave without harming them in any way.”

Owduttf stayed exactly where he was, half in and half out of the entrance, blocking the doorway with his short, squat body.

Tango turned an accusatory glare on me. Right, admitting the hostage meant a lot to you probably wasn't the best tactic. Too late now.

“Okay, I'll pay. What do you want?”

He launched into a long, expressive series of grunts and chortles. Tango started to translate, then quit with a disgusted look on her face.
that.>

“Is he asking for
anything
that doesn't concern my vital organs, bones, or flesh?”

“That detailed, huh?”

Interrupt him, please. Hey, Owduttf!

The badger stopped making noises and looked at me quizzically.

That's not an option. How about something more reasonable?