Dying to Be in Pictures

a story of the world of Zoolok

On the grassy lawn before a large house, two groups of teenage boys faced off—a weasel, a vicuña, and a pig on one side, and a pronghorn, an opossum, and a muskrat on the other. The latter three were armed with a switchblade, a broken bottle, and a baseball bat, respectively. The two groups locked eyes, their bodies tense and quivering, poised for combat. The first three boys backed up onto the wooden porch behind them. The other three took the ceded ground, brandishing their weapons menacingly. The first three now had their backs against the wall. There was nowhere for them to go. Violence seemed inevitable. As the two groups closed with each other, a seventh boy—a donkey—came in from the left, though which group he was allied with was unclear.

The pronghorn lunged with his switchblade, stabbing at the weasel, who nimbly dodged aside. The opossum swiped at the vicuña's head with his broken bottle. The vicuña ducked, the bottle's jagged edges narrowly missing his face. The muskrat hauled back with his baseball bat as though he intended to knock one out of the park, his blunt muzzle wrinkled in a snarl, his big, flat front teeth bared. He swung hard at the pig, who leaned back over the railing to avoid the blow, toppled over it, and landed flat on his back at the donkey's hooved feet.

"Cut!" shouted a middle-aged chamois seated in a canvas chair facing the melee, the word "director" written across the back. The fighting immediately ceased, and all the boys relaxed as the pig who had fallen got to his feet. Behind the chamois, the whirring of the cameras ground to a halt, and the members of the crew sighed and shook their heads as the director stood up.

"The boy who took the fall," he said. "You dropped before you were hit. Wait for the bat to connect. It's only foam rubber."

"Yes, sir," the pig said apologetically.

Behind the director stood a female fox wearing a sky-blue satin dress and holding a matching purse, a pearl necklace around her slender neck. Her ensemble was the latest thing to come out of the fashion mills of Itusto and cost more than all the clothing of everyone else on the set combined. Her amber eyes were wide and excited, and she clutched her purse tightly in her small, black-furred hands. Her name was Datura Vulma, but she was better known as Firefox, a member of the Heroes of Zoolok. Even without her customary red-and-yellow costume, everyone present knew who she was.

Beside her stood an armadillo wearing only a simple brown kilt and black chest strap, his handsome, hairless, well-muscled body otherwise bare, a curved sword hanging in a sheath from his hip. His dark eyes scrutinized the proceedings intently. He was Ken-Jo of the Stone, another Hero of Zoolok.

"Isn't it fascinating?" Firefox asked her companion without taking her eyes off the scene.

"Why did they not hire real fighters?" Ken-Jo asked, in a high, reedy voice. "Those boys are terrible."

Firefox rolled her eyes. "They're not supposed to be real fighters, Ken-Jo. They're supposed to be street punks. This movie is based on a real incident that occurred here in Nexasho a few years ago, when a gang of kids took over a local high school."

"Is that why they are filming it here?"

"Yes, the studio thought that shooting the movie in the city where the event actually happened would give it an air of realism. It's all the rage in movies these days."

Ken-Jo snorted. "I go to the movies to escape reality, Datura. I see no logic in paying to have the filth and grime of the real world flung in my face. As a Hero of Zoolok, I have to deal with that every day."

Firefox turned to the armadillo and looped her arms around his neck, pressing her supple body against him. "Is the real world really that bad?" she asked, gazing into his eyes as she batted hers.

Ken-Jo's small mouth smiled slightly. "It has its good points." He pressed his long snout to her muzzle, and they kissed deeply as the people around them tried not to notice.

The director turned to a rhino in a black, short-sleeved shirt who was standing beside him with his thick gray arms folded disapprovingly, like a general observing a battle that wasn't going too well. "Okay, let's try it again."

The rhino nodded. "First positions, please!" he bellowed.

"And let's see some action, boys," the director added as he and the rhino sat back down. "Imagine you could die at any moment!"

As the boys moved back to their initial positions, a figure slipped behind the bamboo screen hanging down across the porch of the house next door. Unseen by anyone, it raised a silenced pistol to a hole in the screen and waited.

"Quiet and roll, please!" the rhino announced. A female okapi ran up and snapped a clapboard.

"Action!" yelled the director.

The rumble began repeating itself, the weasel, vicuña, and pig backing up onto the porch while the pronghorn, opossum, and muskrat advanced, the donkey entering the scene from the left. This time, the muskrat's foam bat connected with the pig's head, and again, he toppled over the railing. As he fell, the figure behind the screen squeezed the trigger, and there was a soft phut sound, which was masked by the noise of the scuffle. The pig landed on his back on the lawn and lay still.

"Cut! Print!" the director shouted happily. "That's more like it, boys! All right, next scene."

The cast and crew began heading to where the next scene was to be filmed. Ken-Jo and Firefox moved to follow, but then Ken-Jo glanced back at the pig, who was still lying sprawled on the lawn, motionless. The armadillo's dark eyes narrowed. He had seen death many times, and unless the pig was an exceptionally good actor—which he'd shown no indication of being—he was seeing it now. Breaking away from Firefox as she blinked in surprise, he raced to the prone pig, and knelt beside him. Firefox ran over to join him.

"Ken-Jo?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"This boy has been shot," Ken-Jo said quietly. "He is dead."

A late-model convertible steam car glided silently to a stop in the parking lot of the Imperial Hotel, and a tall tiger in a well-tailored suit and tie got out. Ken-Jo and Firefox came over to greet him.

"Hello, Sidewalk," said Firefox, smiling at him. "Nice to see you again."

"Hello, Datura. Hello, Ken-Jo," Sidewalk replied. "Good to see both of you again, too. You mentioned something on the phone about a case?"

"Yes," said Firefox. "Come with us, please."

The tiger hesitated. "It doesn't involve the supernatural, does it?"

"Oh no," said Firefox, "nothing like that. Just a simple murder."

"Good, I had my fill of that magical stuff last time. But aren't the police already handling it?"

"Of course they are."

Sidewalk frowned. "I don't normally take cases the police are actively investigating, Datura. My friend Lt. Diggs doesn't like it, and I prefer to stay on his good side. Plus, it can get very messy."

"Do you like money?" asked Firefox, smiling. "I know someone who can make it worth your while."

Sidewalk raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

She nodded. "His name is Vish Zalen. He's the producer of a picture that's being filmed here. A boy was shot dead on the set. The police are holding the six actors who were with him when it happened as material witnesses."

"I take it they're not ruling it an accidental shooting?"

"There were not supposed to be any guns in the scene," said Ken-Jo. "It could not have been an accident."

"I see. And what's your interest in this?"

"Vish is an old friend of mine," said Firefox. "I met him when they were making a movie about my life."

"Oh, yes, The Firefox Story. I saw that. It was all right."

Firefox snorted. "You're a good liar, Sidewalk, but I'd expect that from a private detective. The actress they got to play me was awful."

Ken-Jo nodded. "She was quite bad."

"Anyway, the studio wants this matter cleared up as fast as possible, and they told Vish to hire a special investigator to do the job. He's never been to Nexasho before and doesn't know anyone here, so he asked me if I could recommend someone, and naturally, I thought of you."

"Naturally," said Sidewalk. "And the fact that this boy was killed right under the noses of two of the Heroes of Zoolok had nothing to do with it."

"Well," said Firefox, "that is rather embarrassing. It would help untarnish our image somewhat if we could say we assisted in catching the killer. Plus, Vish and I were rather . . . close, for a time, and this is his first movie for Pinnacle Pictures, so I'd like to help him out. So, will you take the case, Sidewalk? Please?" She looked up at him, batting her big, beautiful, amber eyes.

Sidewalk smiled. "How can I refuse?"

They entered the hotel, and Firefox and Ken-Jo were immediately accosted in the lobby by reporters barraging them with questions. While the two Heroes were preoccupied, Sidewalk quietly slipped away, went to the front desk, and identified himself to the kangaroo clerk, who told him which room Vish Zalen was in. As he walked to the elevator, he glanced back at his companions. Firefox was basking in the limelight, telling the reporters that the Heroes of Zoolok were on the case and the killer would soon be caught. Ken-Jo, on the other hand, stood silently beside her, looking as if he'd rather be anyplace else.

"Amazing, isn't she?" said a grating voice behind him as he entered the elevator. Sidewalk turned to see a disheveled-looking green duck in a fedora and trenchcoat get in with him, the doors closing behind him.

The tiger hit the button for the floor he wanted, and the elevator began to rise. "She's a Hero of Zoolok. They're all amazing. That's how they got to be on the team."

The duck nodded. "I suppose they are at that." He held out a hand. "Nebus Zemake, Nexasho Tribune."

Sidewalk shook the duck's feathered hand. "Sidewalk Shaver. So, you're Nebus Zemake. I've read your stuff. You haven't been especially nice to the Heroes. In fact, I seem to recall you catching those two . . . shall we say 'in a compromising position' in a movie theater?"

Zemake shrugged. "They're public figures; they can take a little heat. Anyway, that's all in the past."

Sidewalk nodded. "May I ask why you're here with me instead of down in the lobby giving them the third degree with all the other reporters?"

Zemake smiled. "Because I know a smokescreen when I see one. You're where the real story is."

"Am I?"

"You've worked with the Heroes before. They enlisted your aid to recover a certain item with mystical powers from a certain supervillain."

Sidewalk looked surprised. "You're very well informed!"

"It's my job to be well informed. Firefox and Ken-Jo were on the set of a movie where a boy was shot dead, and next thing I know, they're meeting you in the parking lot. Why? What's it to them?"

Sidewalk shrugged. "Their job is to catch criminals."

"Do you know how many murders happen in this town every day? What makes this one so special that they call you in?"

"Why don't you ask them?"

"They won't talk to me."

Sidewalk smirked. "I can't imagine why."

"If it's all the same to you, Mr. Shaver, I think I'll tag along and see what I can find out."

"Smell a story on me, do you?"

"Call it my reporter's instinct."

"Mr. Zemake, I owe the Heroes of Zoolok my life. If you think I'm going to share anything with you that might embarrass or humiliate them just to bloat your ego and help your paper sell more copies—"

"They saved my life, too, Mr. Shaver," Zemake said tightly. Sidewalk glanced at the duck, and saw a look on his beaked face that he didn't expect to see, a look of pain, guilt, and regret. "Believe me when I tell you the last thing I want to do is embarrass or humiliate them."

Sidewalk nodded. "All right, then. You can come."

"Thank you, Mr. Shaver."

They rode upward in silence.

Sidewalk and Nebus got off on the 15^th floor and went down the hall to suite 1520, where Sidewalk rapped on the door with his knuckles. A annoyed shout of "What is it?" came through the door. The tiger turned the knob and opened it. Inside was a civet wearing a shirt and slacks with no tie, studying a large scheduling board that had been erected in the center of the room. He was scratching his stomach and the top of his head simultaneously. He turned around and glared at the pair in the doorway.

"Are you Vish Zalen?" Sidewalk asked.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Zalen demanded.

"I'm Sidewalk Shaver. I believe Firefox mentioned me to you."

The civet looked past him at Nebus. "Who's that?"

Sidewalk glanced at the duck. "That's my assistant, Oaldo Bloot."

Nebus scowled at the tiger.

Zalen bared his small, sharp teeth. "Is this some kind of scam? I'm not paying for two investigators! I didn't even want to pay for one! Hiring you was the front office's idea, not mine!"

Sidewalk shrugged. "Nice talking to you, then." He began pulling the door shut.

"Hold on!" said Zalen, causing Sidewalk to pause. "I didn't say I wouldn't hire you. The studio wants me to hire someone; it might as well be you. But I'm not hiring him!" He pointed at Nebus.

"Well, that's the beauty of it," said Sidewalk. "You get him for nothing. See, he works for me. That means I pay his salary, not you."

"And you don't pay me nearly enough," Nebus muttered.

"All right, come in." Zalen turned back to the board as Sidewalk and Nebus entered the room, the duck closing the door behind them. The civet sighed and shook his head. "I've got six actors in jail, and no matter how I rearrange the shooting schedule, I need them in every scene for the next two weeks."

"Sounds like you have a problem, then," said Sidewalk.

Zalen glanced at him. "Do you have any idea how much it costs every day to keep my cast and crew on location?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Fifteen grand!"

"That's a lot of grand," Sidewalk commented.

"I need my actors on the set, not sitting on their butts in jail while the cops drag their feet!" He grinned up at the tiger as an idea struck him. "You know the police here, right?"

"We're acquainted."

"Then how about this? You slip some bills into some pockets, the cops let my boys out, I finish the scenes I need, then they go back in the slammer."

"I have a better idea," said Sidewalk. "How about you slip those bills into those pockets yourself? Then you'll be in the slammer with them and you can film your scenes there. The only problem is, you'll be doing one to ten for trying to bribe police officers."

Zalen waved his arms around, walking in circles. "All right, all right! I was just trying it on for size. What's your solution?"

"Simple. I catch the killer."

"And how do you plan to do that? Nobody saw him, and nobody has any idea who he is."

"First, I'll expand my pool of suspects to include women. They've been known to commit murder too. Second, in these situations, it's customary to start with the victim. Who was he?"

"How should I know?" Zalen replied irritably.

Sidewalk blinked. "You hired him and you don't even know his name?"

"My production manager handles the hiring. They were all local kids; they didn't come with us."

"Which means they were also non-union," said Sidewalk, smirking.

Zalen shrugged. "The studio wanted local color."

Nebus consulted his notes. "The kid's name was Freisu Brex. He was a pig."

"Thank you, Oaldo," said Sidewalk, earning himself another dirty look from the duck. "And he was from Nexasho, so someone around here should know him. That gives us a starting point. I'll want to speak with your production manager."

"She's scouting a location two hundred miles away."

"Then I'll wait for her to get back."

Zalen growled. "And that's another fifteen grand down the drain, while you collect a day's pay for doing nothing! Hold on, she may have left some notes for me." He went to his desk and rummaged through the papers stacked atop it. "Ah, here we are. She hired the boys through Aughi's Drive-In."

Sidewalk nodded. "I know Aughi." He turned to Nebus. "Hungry, Oaldo?"

Nebus clicked his bill together. "Famished."

"We'll be in touch, Mr. Zalen," Sidewalk said as he and Nebus left the room.

"Oaldo Bloot?" Nebus asked angrily as they walked down the hall to the elevator.

"It was the first name that came into my head. I couldn't very well use your real name. He might have recognized it, and he'd hardly speak freely in front of a reporter."

"You mean like suggesting bribing the cops?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I don't want to be Oaldo Bloot!"

"Who do you want to be?"

Nebus put his hand on his chest and tossed his head. "Steel Nobleheart!"

Sidewalk looked at him. "Steel Nobleheart?"

"Look, it's bad enough I'm your assistant. The least you can do is give me a decent name."

"You're staying Oaldo Bloot."

"In that case, I want a raise."

"Fine, I'll double your salary."

Nebus growled and stuck his hands in his pockets.

It was starting to get dark when Sidewalk pulled his convertible into Aughi's Drive-In, a restaurant near Nexasho University. Like many establishments close to institutions of higher learning, it was a popular hangout for students—acting students in particular, since the university's drama department was only a block away. It wasn't unusual to find scenes being staged in the parking lot as students rehearsed parts for their classes or upcoming productions. Aughi encouraged this by offering a discount to students, since their performances sometimes attracted spectators who bought food.

A busty zebra carhop came up and took Sidewalk's and Nebus's orders, and Sidewalk asked her if Aughi was in. She said he was, and Sidewalk told her he wanted to talk to him. She left, and Sidewalk and Nebus watched as a male canary and a female gemsbok rehearsed a romantic scene at one of the tables. A few minutes later, a middle-aged orangutan emerged from the side of the restaurant. Like most orangutans, he was rather portly and walked with a waddling gait. He grinned broadly when he saw Sidewalk. "Sidewalk, my friend, what can I do for you?" the ape asked as he hauled his bulk up beside the car.

"You can give me some information," said Sidewalk, holding up a bill. "Freisu Brex."

Aughi shrugged. "I don't know the name."

"He was one of seven bit players you supplied for a movie being shot here by Pinnacle Pictures."

"Was?" asked Aughi, raising an eyebrow.

"He's dead," said Nebus. "That's why we're here."

"And who are you?" Aughi asked, peering at the duck curiously.

"Oaldo Bloot," Sidewalk replied, which made Nebus wince. "He's my new assistant."

"I thought you worked alone."

"I've recently seen the advantages of having a partner."

"I see," said Aughi. "Well, in the first place, I've never heard of any Freisu Brex, and in the second, I only supplied six actors for that picture, not seven."

"Are you sure?" Sidewalk asked.

"Sure I'm sure. A commission was involved." He reached into his jacket pocket, removed a piece of paper, and handed it to the tiger. It was a list of six names, none of which was Freisu Brex.

Sidewalk frowned. "He was on that set. Someone must have hired him."

"Maybe he used a different name," Nebus suggested. "Actors often do that."

"What species was he?" asked Aughi.

"He was a pig," Sidewalk replied.

Aughi shook his head. "There was no pig in the group I provided."

"Then what was he doing there?"

The orangutan raised his long arms. "Search me. The studio wanted six local actors; I supplied six local actors. None of them was a pig, and none of them was named Freisu Brex. That's all I know."

Sidewalk handed him the bill. "Thanks, Aughi."

Aughi grinned a wide simian grin. "Don't mention it." He waddled away as the zebra carhop returned with Sidewalk's and Nebus's orders. They ate in silence, watching as the canary tried to win the gemsbok's heart.

"What are you thinking?" Nebus asked finally.

"I'm thinking someone else hired Freisu Brex. Someone who wanted him dead."

"Why?"

"To find that out, I need to know more about him."

"Then maybe you should visit Lakeside Trailer Park."

Sidewalk glanced at the duck. "Why there?"

"Because that's where he lived."

"You're just a font of knowledge, aren't you?"

Nebus shrugged. "I'm a reporter. It's what I do."

"All right, let's pay the bill and head over there."

"Hold on."

"What for?"

Nebus nodded at the canary and the gemsbok. "I want to see if he gets the girl."

"I've seen that play. He doesn't."

"Aww, now you ruined it!"

There was a soft thud behind them. Sidewalk twisted around to see what it was. A small metal object was rolling around on the back seat.

It was a hand grenade.

Sidewalk recognized the grenade as United Provinces Army ordinance, which meant that its fuse would burn for five seconds before it exploded, killing anyone within thirty feet of it, assuming the thrower hadn't "cooked" the grenade by letting the fuse burn for a few seconds before throwing it. Of course, that was extremely dangerous, since there was the possibility of it going off too close to the thrower. None of this went through the tiger's mind, however. There wasn't time for that.

Sidewalk reacted instantly, without conscious thought, diving over the front seat, with his stomach on the back of it, and seizing the grenade. Once he had it, rather than heaving his torso up to throw it, which would have taken too much time, he rolled his body sideways. When he'd completed a half-revolution, he hurled it at an unoccupied section of the parking lot. The grenade detonated in the air. Several people screamed, but fortunately, nobody was within the blast radius.

"Holy shit!" cried Nebus, eyes wide, as Sidewalk pulled his body upright and slid back down into his seat. The tiger scanned the parking lot to see who might have thrown the grenade, but there were so many people running around in panic that it was impossible to tell. They sat in the car for a moment as chaos reigned around them, both looking straight ahead, not speaking.

"Someone doesn't appreciate us looking into Freisu Brex's death," Nebus said, finally.

"So it would seem," said Sidewalk.

Nebus glanced at the tiger. "You were a soldier, weren't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Only someone who was trained in handling grenades would move like that. Hesban War vet?"

Sidewalk nodded. "Six years ago, one of those things dropped into a foxhole where I was sheltering from enemy gunfire with three other soldiers. The choices were climb out and get shot, or stay in the hole and get blown up. I chose the third option. I grabbed the grenade and threw it out."

"You're a lucky man."

Sidewalk growled. "If I were really lucky, I wouldn't have had to play hot potato with a live grenade once in my life, let alone twice." He held up his hands and looked at them. They were trembling. "Were you in the war?"

The duck nodded. "War correspondent."

"See any action?"

"I was stationed at the front lines, so yeah, I saw some action."

"Only you didn't carry a gun."

"No, just a patch on my shoulder identifying me as a noncombatant."

"You can still get killed like that, though."

"I know. It happened to a friend of mine. Funny thing; artillery shells don't care if you have a gun, or what patch you're wearing."

Sidewalk nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

Sidewalk glanced at the two actors and saw the canary gently comforting the shaken gemsbok. "Maybe he gets the girl after all." He called the zebra carhop over, and they paid for their meals and then drove away.

They pulled into the unpaved parking area of the Lakeview Trailer Park, exited the car, and walked to a trailer with a sign that read "office" on the door. The lights were on inside, and someone was moving around. Sidewalk went up and knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a female prairie dog in a dressing gown. "Yes, can I help you?" she asked.

"I'd like to take a look inside the trailer in Lot 16," Sidewalk replied.

"What for?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm thinking about renting it."

She smiled, her big incisors gleaming. "Well, why didn't you say so?" She disappeared back into her trailer and returned a moment later, handing him a key. He thanked her, and he and Nebus walked over to the trailer in Lot 16, opened the door, and went inside.

The tiny trailer was cramped inside, and rocked slightly as Sidewalk and Nebus entered. It contained cheap furniture consisting of a bed, a table, a dresser, two chairs, and not much else. Some pornographic magazines were scattered on the floor. A phone sat atop the dresser, a full ashtray and an empty whiskey bottle beside it. Sidewalk examined the bed, checking under the mattress, and looked in the small closet. Neither held anything of interest. He went to the dresser and picked up the whiskey bottle. It was bottom-shelf stuff. He picked up the receiver of the phone and held it to his ear. It was as dead as the trailer's tenant. He glanced over at Nebus, who was crouching and sifting through the trash basket sitting beside one of the chairs. Then the tiger noticed a phone number scribbled on the wall above the phone. Frowning, he reached into his jacket pocket, removed a small notebook, and opened it to the page containing the phone number of Vish Zalen at the Imperial Hotel. It was the same as the one on the wall.

"Have a look at this," said Nebus, coming over to him with a newspaper he'd found in the trash. It was a copy of the Nexasho Tribune, dated three days ago. A section had been cut out of one of its pages.

"Any idea what it was?" asked Sidewalk.

"Not my story," Nebus replied. "You find anything?"

"Just Vish Zalen's number scribbled on the wall."

"The guy who had no idea who Freisu Brex was?"

"So he claimed."

"Suddenly, I'm having a hard time buying that."

"You and me both."

They exited the trailer and walked back to the office. Sidewalk knocked on the door again. "Come in, it's open," came the prairie dog's voice from inside. Sidewalk opened the door and went in, followed by Nebus. They both stopped.

The prairie dog had one foot up on a table and was painting her toenails. She was wearing a dancer's outfit that revealed most of her shapely body. She smiled at the pair as they stood there staring at her in surprise. "See anything you like?" she asked.

"And then some!" said Nebus, bill agape.

Sidewalk smiled. "Do you always dress like that when you're on duty?"

She laughed. "This is for my night job. I was just about to close up here when you arrived." Her big black eyes gazed at the tiger with interest. "If you'd like to move in, we'd love to have you. We're very friendly here!"

"I'm sure you are," said Sidewalk as he came over and placed the key on the table next to her neat, furry foot. "What about the guy who rented that trailer? Was he friendly?"

Her smile instantly changed to a scowl. "Look, I already told the cops everything I know about Freisu, which is nothing! Now get lost!"

"You know nothing about him, and yet you call him by his first name?"

She shrugged. "So what if I do?"

"I just thought you might have been friendly with him. From his picture, he was a handsome guy."

"We may have spent some time together," she said evasively. "Why are you so interested?"

"I'm a private investigator. The movie company he was making a film for hired me to find out about him."

Her eyes lit up instantly. "You have show business connections?"

Sidewalk hesitated. "Sort of." Behind him, Nebus snickered.

The prairie dog took her foot off the table, pressed her body against his, and looped her arms around his neck. "Maybe you and your friend could stay a while."

"Thanks," said Sidewalk, politely disengaging himself, "but we really need to be going." He headed quickly out the door.

Nebus smiled and lifted his hat. "Nice meeting you, miss," he said, and followed the tiger out as the prairie dog stood there pouting.

"You realize we both could have gotten laid just now," said Nebus as they got in the car. "That girl was desperate to break into show business."

"My client isn't paying me to get laid," Sidewalk replied as he fired up the engine.

"He isn't paying you to get grenades thrown at you, either."

"That's an occupational hazard. Anyway, it would have been dishonest."

"Dishonest how?"

"I don't have any show business connections."

"You know Firefox, and she has show business connections."

"Maybe I'll mention it to her, then." Sidewalk pulled out and began driving away.

"We still could have gotten laid," Nebus grumbled.

Sidewalk glanced at the duck. "You want me to take you back there and drop you off?"

"And lose a story? I'm not that hard up!"

"Then shut up!"

Nebus shut up, and they drove along in silence.

Sidewalk and Nebus parked in Nebus's assigned space in the parking lot of the Nexasho Tribune, entered the towering building through the front entrance, and took the elevator down to the room in the basement where back issues were kept. It took them only a minute to locate a copy of the Tribune from three days ago. They opened it to the page containing the article that had been cut out of the paper Nebus had found in Feisu Brex's trash basket. The article announced that Pinnacle Pictures was shooting their latest movie, Street Fight, here in Nexasho. It included a large photograph of the film crew in the process of shooting a scene. Superimposed in the upper right corner was a picture of Vish Zalen, identifying him as the movie's producer.

"So Brex knew the studio was in town," commented Nebus. "So what? We already knew that. How else would he have ended up on the set where he was killed?"

"It also explains how he knew to call Zalen," said Sidewalk. "But not why he called him."

"Maybe he knew him."

"That doesn't seem likely. Firefox said Zalen had never been to Nexasho before and didn't know anyone here. That's why he asked her to recommend a PI."

"Okay, maybe Brex called Zalen to ask if he could be in his movie."

"Put yourself in Zalen's place. A kid you've never heard of calls you and says 'Hire me.' What would you do?"

"Tell him to get lost."

Sidewalk nodded. "Especially when your production manager is already hiring the six local kids you need through Aughi's Drive-In."

"So where does that leave us?"

Sidewalk thought for a moment. "Do you know Lt. Diggs?"

"Diggs. Woodchuck, right?"

"Right."

"Yeah, I met him when I was covering a homicide investigation a couple years ago."

"He's a friend of mine. I need to ask him for a favor, and I don't think he'll want you around when I do."

Nebus narrowed his eyes. "Hey, you're not giving me the air, are you?"

"I promise, after I talk to him, I'll be in touch with you."

Nebus glared at the tiger. "I'm warning you, Shaver, if you shut me out of this, I'll make you regret it! I know people!"

Sidewalk gazed at the duck with his impenetrable feline eyes. "So do I. Look, Nebus, you're just going to have to trust me. I saved your life back at the drive-in, didn't I?"

Nebus calmed down a bit and nodded. "Yeah, you did. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Don't mention it. Give me a number where I can reach you."

"Just call the city desk," Nebus grumbled, still not looking happy. "I'll be waiting there."

"I'll call when I'm done with Diggs. Don't worry, you won't lose your story."

"I better not!"

Sidewalk turned and left, and Nebus angrily hurled the paper to the floor.

Lt. Diggs was short and stocky, like most woodchucks, and was wearing a drab, rumpled suit and a hideous tie his daughter had given him for his birthday. He was returning some folders to a file cabinet when Sidewalk walked in and stood beside him, silently waiting for him to finish what he was doing. Diggs looked up at the tall, well-dressed tiger with his beady black eyes. "Can I help you?" he asked, with just the faintest hint of annoyance.

"I was told I might find you here," said Sidewalk.

"And so you did. Brilliant detective work."

"Thanks. How's the Freisu Brex case coming along?"

"We have six suspects in custody. One of them had a zip gun on him. But you already knew that. It was in the evening papers."

"I also know that zip gun didn't kill Brex."

"No, it didn't, but it is illegal, so it's grounds for holding them on suspicion of murder. Why are you interested?"

"Because whoever did kill him tried to kill me with a hand grenade earlier tonight."

Diggs blinked. "The drive-in. You might have stayed and reported it, you know."

"And you might have pulled me in for questioning. I had other places to be. What I can't figure is how those kids managed to throw that grenade all the way to the drive-in from your jail cell."

"I know," said Diggs. "They didn't do it."

"They didn't kill Freisu Brex, either. But I think I know who did."

Diggs closed the drawer of the file cabinet. "Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"It was someone in the movie studio. Freisu saw in the paper that they were coming and where they were staying, so he called them. Someone in the company wanted him dead, so they hired him, put him in that scene, and then shot him."

"Why did they want him dead?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

Diggs nodded. "Interesting theory. Want to hear another one?"

"Sure."

"Brex reads in the paper that a movie company is coming to town and decides he wants to be in pictures. He calls them, and they tell him to buzz off. So he sneaks onto the set while they're shooting a scene. And somewhere in the crowd is someone with a score to settle, and a gun. Bang. Fade to black."

"How could he just walk onto a set without anyone noticing?"

"According to Mr. Zalen, whenever they're shooting on location there's always some smart-alec who thinks it would be a big laugh to worm his way in front of the camera before he gets caught and kicked out. That's why they have closed sets, to keep exactly that kind of thing from happening. And the set Brex was killed on wasn't closed."

"You actually buy that?"

"I'm a police officer. I don't buy anything unless I can prove it, and neither should you. I'm just saying it's possible. Now, was there anything else?"

Sidewalk nodded. "I'd like to have a look at Freisu's file, and the stuff you removed from his trailer."

Diggs sighed. "See, Sidewalk, that's what's we policemen call 'evidence.' And as a rule, we don't share it with the public."

"I know, but I thought you might bend the rules for a friend."

Diggs gazed at the tiger for a long moment. Then he went to a door, opened it, went inside, and came out a moment later holding a small cardboard evidence box with a manila folder lying on top of it. He set them down on a table in front of Sidewalk. "Nothing—and I mean nothing—leaves this room. I'm going to go get a cup of coffee and drink it very, very slowly. If anyone asks, you couldn't find me."

Sidewalk smiled. "I don't know what I'd do without you, lieutenant."

The woodchuck regarded him dourly. "Why don't you find out?" He left the room while the tiger sat down and began sifting through Freisu Brex's worldly possessions.

Sidewalk and Nebus parked outside Itst's Boatyard, exited Sidewalk's car, and made their way through the open gate in the wooden fence. It was after midnight, and out of the darkness loomed the ghostly shapes of sailboats and motorboats that had once proudly sailed the sea but had since fallen into disrepair. This was a place where old boats went to die or to be cannibalized for spare parts. In the middle of this nautical graveyard stood Vish Zalen, holding up his hands before him with his thumbs touching and his fingers up, looking through an imaginary viewfinder. The civet stopped and glanced at the tiger and the duck as they approached.

"Nice place for a meeting," Sidewalk commented, looking around at the slowly disintegrating watercraft.

"Just a location I'm thinking of using in my movie," Zalen replied, going back to looking between his fingers.

"What movie?" asked Nebus. "Your actors are in jail."

"Were in jail. The cops released them an hour ago. We resume shooting tomorrow morning. Which means I no longer need either of you. So take a hike. I'll mail you the check you didn't earn for doing nothing."

"Actually," said Sidewalk, "that's not quite true. I did do one thing."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"I found out who killed Freisu Brex."

Zalen lowered his hands and turned to face him. "Did you?"

Sidewalk nodded. "Want to hear? It'd make a swell picture."

"All right," said Zalen. "Pitch it to me."

The tiger leaned back against the wooden hull of a sailboat that was now about as seaworthy as a colander and folded his arms. "We open in a skink-infested hovel in the northern slums of Nexasho, the part of our fair city that respectable people avoid like the plague. Freisu is a kid, living there with his older sister and her boyfriend, a dumb hood. The hood tries to make a big score, bungles it, and gets himself caught. The sister, who loves him a lot more than he deserves, puts up all her hard-earned money, every cent she has in the world, to bail him out of jail. The hood repays her generosity by skipping town, so she loses her money. Broken-hearted and penniless, she hangs herself, and with no family left, Freisu ends up in the state home for boys."

Zalen smirked. "I've got a stack of scripts like that beside my desk. Give me something new."

"We dissolve to our next scene," Sidewalk continued. "Freisu has grown into a teenage hoodlum who runs with a bad crowd, snatching purses, rolling drunks, knocking over grocery stores. But always, in the back of his mind, there's a burning desire to find the man who drove his sister to suicide and make him pay. But he doesn't know where he is or how to find him."

"Poor kid," said Zalen. "Is that it?"

"Not quite. Now the action shifts to Pinnacle Pictures, where someone decides it would be a great idea to make a movie about a gang of kids who took over a school in Nexasho, and to film it there for extra authenticity."

Nebus broke in. "See, the hood's made it big in the movie business, because even though he was a crashing failure as an actual crook, he knows enough about crime and criminals to impress naive movie producers who are hungry for the kind of gritty, realistic stuff that's popular in films these days."

Sidewalk nodded. "So the hood is sent to Nexasho, where there's an outstanding warrant for his arrest for armed robbery and jumping bail. Freisu spots the hood's picture in the paper and recognizes him. Finally, his dream has come true. It's payback time. He goes to confront the hood at his hotel and demands money for not blowing the whistle on him. The hood pays him off, but he knows Freisu hates his guts, and he can't trust him to keep his mouth shut. Then he gets a brilliant idea: Offer Freisu a part in his picture. And while Freisu is enjoying his one and only brief moment in the spotlight, the hood pays him off for the last time, with a bullet. Roll credits."

Zalen's mouth curled into a smile. "You don't seriously think anyone's going to believe that ridiculous story, do you?"

Sidewalk smiled back. "I suspect Hodri Joome will." Zalen's smile vanished. "See, he's the hood. And he's also you, Zalen. Freisu's police file has a lot of information on Joome. But I knew he was you before I even read it." The tiger held up an intact copy of the issue of the Nexasho Tribune that Nebus had found in Brex's trailer. "You're the only person in this picture whose face is big enough to recognize."

"I should have cooked that grenade," Zalen growled.

Sidewalk shrugged. "We all make mistakes."

Zalen nodded. "And yours was coming here with just him." He indicated Nebus.

The duck smiled. "By my count, you're outnumbered two to one, Joome."

Zalen smiled back and uttered a piercing whistle. From behind one of the boats emerged three tough-looking thugs—an elk, a panther, and a boar, all holding pistols. Zalen reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol as well. "You were saying? See, I still have friends in this town."

"Um, Sidewalk?" asked Nebus, looking at the guns and swallowing.

"It's all right, Nebus," said Sidewalk. "I have friends in this town too." At that moment, Ken-Jo of the Stone came charging through the open gate, sword in hand, while Firefox rose up from behind the fence, now wearing her costume—a red leotard and boots with a yellow collar, her arms and legs exposed. She flew above the boatyard, burning like a flare in the night sky.

The boar took aim at Ken-Jo and fired, but the bullet bounced off the armadillo's bare chest, as Ken-Jo had the ability to make himself temporarily invulnerable to any attack he was aware of. The panther shot at Firefox, but the bullet melted before it could touch her. Sidewalk and Nebus ducked behind the boat Sidewalk had been leaning against as Zalen and the elk fired at them, splintering the wreck's wooden hull.

"Nice of you to tell me you brought backup!" Nebus growled as Sidewalk drew his revolver.

"And spoil the big reveal?" Sidewalk asked.

Ken-Jo ran up to the boar—who fired five more shots as he approached, none of which had the slightest effect—and pressed the edge of his blade against her throat. "Give up," Ken-Jo said quietly. The boar nodded, dropping her gun and raising her arms.

The panther was fleeing across the boatyard, shooting at Firefox as she bore down on him from above, a grin on her lovely vulpine muzzle. She flew past him and dropped down in front of him between two boats, blocking his path. Hovering a foot above the ground, she raised a black-furred hand, and a beam of super-hot plasma shot from it to his gun, making it glow red. The panther yelped and dropped his pistol, which struck the sand with a sizzling sound. He stood there staring at her, clutching his gun hand.

"Careful, you might get burned," said Firefox, smiling at him.

Sidewalk and Nebus weaved between rows of rotting hulks as Zalen and the elk plugged away at them, shooting holes in boats that were already full of them. The tiger and the duck crawled under the keel of a boat sitting in a cradle, trying to get behind their adversaries. Zalen leaped to the top of one of the wrecks, taking advantage of his species' nocturnal vision to try to spot them, while the elk remained on guard on the ground. Sidewalk crept around the side of a boat, flattening himself against its hull, keeping out of the civet's line of sight while sticking to the shadows where the elk couldn't see him. He aimed at the elk and fired, hitting him in the arm. The elk bugled and spun, firing back at the tiger, who ducked behind the boat as the elk's bullet struck the wood where he'd been standing a moment before.

As the elk clutched his wounded arm, Nebus dove out from beneath the boat he was standing beside, wrapping his arms around the big deer's legs and yanking back. The elk cried out and toppled forward, landing in the dirt on his belly. The duck jumped on his back and slugged him across his face.

Hearing the sound of Nebus and the elk fighting, Zalen moved to peer over the gunwale of the boat and aimed his gun at the duck's back. This exposed him to Sidewalk, who fired, hitting the civet in the chest. Zalen jerked and tumbled over the gunwale, landing on the ground beside Nebus and the elk. Sidewalk ran over to them as Nebus picked up the elk's gun, holding it on him. Firefox and Ken-Jo came over to join them with their prisoners.

"How's Vish?" asked Firefox, as Sidewalk knelt beside the civet, checking for a pulse.

"I'm afraid Street Fight will be his swan song," the tiger said, standing up.

Ken-Jo nodded. "Then justice has been served."

The elk groaned, cradling his wounded arm. "Please, I need a doctor!"

"Coming right up," said Firefox, activating her wrist communicator. "This is Firefox of the Heroes of Zoolok. I need the police and an ambulance at Itst's Boatyard, ASAP."

"Tell them to send a meat wagon, too," said Sidewalk, nodding at Zalen.

Firefox relayed the additional request, then scowled at Zalen's body. "I can't believe I slept with him!"

"We all make mistakes," said Nebus, smiling at her.

Ken-Jo regarded the duck coldly. "Some more than others."

Firefox turned to Sidewalk, growling. "You didn't mention he'd be here."

The tiger shrugged. "Must have slipped my mind."

"Look," said Nebus, addressing Firefox and Ken-Jo, "I know I've embarrassed you two, and for what it's worth, I apologize. The fact is, I really admire both of you. You're real heroes, and you deserve better than having someone like me sticking his bill into your private business."

Firefox blinked. "Why, thank you, Nebus!"

Ken-Jo also seemed taken aback. "This is a side of you I have not seen before."

The duck looked away, embarrassed. "I don't have many opportunities to show it." Then he removed a box camera from a pocket of his trenchcoat and attached a flash to it. "How about a nice big smile for the morning edition?"

Sidewalk, Firefox, and Ken-Jo all looked at each other. The tiger shrugged. "Well, that's one way to get into pictures."

They all smiled as the flash went off.