Death From Nowhere

a story of the world of Zoolok

The sun shone brightly on a pleasant suburban street lined with old houses and tall, spreading trees, far from the noise and grime of the city. A plain, unmarked van drove along it, sunlight reflecting off its windshield intermittently as it passed beneath those majestic boughs. It came to a stop beside a telephone pole before a large house built in the previous century. From the van emerged a brown bat, tall and exceedingly thin. He was dressed in white coveralls, his clawed feet bare, with a blue cap sitting between huge ears that swiveled like aerials to catch every sound. Removing a leather satchel from the van and slinging it over his narrow shoulder, he walked to the pole and looked up at it. His wild ancestors could have flown to the top easily, but he could not, his people's wings having long ago evolved into long, slender arms with only vestigial webbing between their spidery fingers as a reminder that they had once been organs of flight. Sighing, he began to climb.

Inside the house, a female deer sat before a canvas, painting a picture of a sunset. She was seated in a wheelchair, wearing a floral robe over a silk nightgown. Her movements as she held the brush were stiff and jerky. Her ears perked up at the sound of the door to the room opening. Through the door came a badger wearing a white jacket and pants. He was a typical member of his species, with a thick, heavy build and dark stripes on his face. In one clawed hand he held a glass of green liquid. He smiled, displaying sharp, white teeth, his black eyes bright. The doe smiled back at him.

"Time for your medicine, Galais," the badger said, walking over to her, his toe claws muffled by the carpet. "Then back to bed."

"Just a few more minutes, Beldo?" Galais asked as he handed her the glass. "Please?"

The badger gazed into her big brown eyes for a moment, then smiled and nodded. "All right. I'll go warm your milk for you. But when I get back . . ." He wagged a finger at her.

She smiled, squeezing the badger's thick, strong hand. "I promise." As he left the room, she swallowed the green liquid with a quick gulp, made a face, and then returned to her painting.

Outside, the bat reached the top of the telephone pole and looped a strap around his waist and the pole to hold himself in place so his hands would be free. He opened the junction box, removed a phone from his satchel, hooked it into a line, and then dialed a number. He glanced over at the house, his dark eyes fixed upon the second-story window facing the street as he waited for someone to pick up.

Galais started as her phone rang. She put down her brush, wheeled herself over to the phone, and picked it up. "Hello?" she asked.

"Mrs. Rehin?" the bat asked.

"Yes?" the doe replied.

"This is Mr. Anskel across the street," the bat said. "Something's happened to your nurse. He's lying on the lawn in your front yard. I think you'd better take a look."

Galais gasped, her eyes going wide. She wheeled herself over to the open front window and lifted herself up from her chair with her arms, attempting to peer down at the lawn.

The bat drew a silenced pistol from his satchel and aimed it at the window with both hands. When the deer appeared in the window, he fired. She collapsed and fell out of sight. Quickly, he disconnected the phone and stuffed it back in his satchel, clambered down the pole, tossed the gun on the lawn, got in his van, and drove away.

"Hold very still, Raoim." The muffled, nasal voice issued from a short, stocky figure sheathed in black rubber from head to toe, with only a narrow window for its eyes to see through. In its clumsy gloved hands it held a metallic chestplate with some dials and gauges on the front and straps hanging from the back.

On the table before him sat a young hawk with brown feathers, wearing only a pair of white trunks, his clawed yellow feet hanging above the floor. He held very still as the rubber-suited figure carefully placed the plate against his feathered chest. Behind the hawk stood a black-furred mouse wearing a red jerkin, trunks, gloves, and boots, a white omega symbol on his chest. Watching the proceedings but standing well back were a female panda wearing a sky-blue leotard, boots, and cape; a female red fox wearing a red leotard and boots; a male armadillo wearing only a brown kilt; a green boar wearing an olive-drab tank top, khaki pants, and brown boots; and a young female hawk wearing a lilac dress with a pleated skirt. They all watched anxiously as the metal plate touched Raoim's chest, and flinched at a crackle of sparks.

"That's to be expected," the rubber-suited figure said, fiddling with the dials on the chestplate as the mouse held it by its straps. "The regulator has to be adjusted to your body's current flow." Raoim simply nodded as he sat there throwing off sparks, and looked over at the female hawk, who held up her yellow scaly hands, showing that the clawed fingers of both were crossed.

After a few moments, the sparking subsided. The rubber-suited figure checked the gauges on the front of the chestplate. "Looks good. Secure it in place, Omega."

"Yes, Doctor," the mouse said, and began buckling the chestplate on. The rubber-suited figure lifted the hood off its head, revealing the bucktoothed face of a beaver wearing thick round glasses that greatly magnified his beady eyes. He touched a volt meter to Raoim's hand. The needle did not move. The beaver grinned at him, his huge white incisors gleaming. "We have a winner!" The room burst into cheers and applause, and the female hawk rushed to Raoim and threw her arms around him, hugging him and rubbing her beak against his.

"Thank you, Dr. Teshobi," Raoim said to the beaver, his throat tight. "I can't tell you how much this means to me."

"I can!" said the female hawk. "It means I can finally touch you without your insulated costume being in the way!"

Omega Mouse nodded. "Or all those bulky wires draining off his body's current."

"Yes," said Teshobi, "you can go out in public now wearing ordinary street clothes without fear of accidentally electrocuting anyone. The regulator should be fairly easy to cover up. And if you need your powers, you can simply turn this to reduce the absorption rate." He tapped a dial on the chestplate.

"It is a bit bulky, though," the armadillo commented.

"I'm already working on a smaller model, Ken-Jo," said Teshobi. "With that on, he'll even be able to do things like go swimming."

Raoim smiled at the female hawk. "I'd love to go to swimming with you, Adeni."

Adeni nodded and smiled back, caressing his feathered face. "I'd like that, too!"

"I can imagine a few other things they'd probably like to do," said the fox, grinning.

"Datura, must you?" the panda asked, giving her a disapproving look.

"Oh, don't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, Gemma!" Datura shot back.

"I know I was," said Ken-Jo, his small mouth smiling.

The fox took the armadillo's clawed hand and squeezed it. "At least Ken-Jo is being honest." She pressed her lips to his long, narrow snout.

"At least he was tactful enough to keep his thoughts to himself," Gemma said.

The phone rang, and the boar picked it up. "H-h-hello?" he asked. After listening for a moment, he handed the phone to Raoim. "F-f-for y-y-you."

The hawk nodded. "Thanks, Slash." He put the phone to his ear. "Hello?" Then his yellow eyes went wide and his beak fell open. "Oh my god!"

"What is it?" asked Omega Mouse.

Raoim looked at the mouse, distraught. "It's Galais Rehin, an old friend of my parents! She's in the hospital. She's been shot!"

Raoim and Adeni—the former now wearing a collared shirt and trousers—emerged from the elevator onto the seventh floor of Nexasho General Hospital and hurried down the hall toward Galais's room. Outside the door stood a short, stocky woodchuck wearing a fedora and a wrinkled trenchcoat, in the process of lighting a cigarette.

"Lieutenant Diggs?" asked Raoim.

The woodchuck puffed on his cigarette and looked up at him with his beady black eyes. "Yes?"

"I'm Raoim Coromek." He indicated Adeni. "This is Adeni Yerrun."

"Hello, Lieutenant," said Adeni.

Diggs raised his hat to her. "Miss." Then he looked at Raoim. "You're Volthawk, aren't you?"

Raoim nodded. "Yes, that's right. I'm also a friend of Galais Rehin. The officer in the lobby told me you were in charge of the case. How is she?"

"Not good," Diggs replied. "She wasn't in the best of health to begin with. Even without being shot, she only had a few months left at most."

Raoim clenched his fists. "Do you know who did this?"

"We have an APB out on her nurse, a badger named Beldo Unty. His gun was found at the scene of the crime, and he fled when the police tried to apprehend him. Ballistics is checking right now to see if his gun fired the bullet."

Raoim nodded. "Can I see her?"

Diggs hesitated. "Normally, we'd only allow family."

"She doesn't have any family," said Raoim. "Her husband is dead, and she has no brothers, sisters, or children. She was a friend of my parents when I was growing up. I'm the closest thing she has to a son." He looked at Diggs imploringly. "Please, Lieutenant? I'm not asking for special treatment because of my status as a Hero of Zoolok, but it would really mean a lot to me."

Diggs sighed. "All right. Just be warned, she's doped up on morphine right now, so she may not be entirely lucid."

"Understood." Raoim opened the door and went into the room, and Adeni followed.

Galais was lying in the hospital bed with a bandage over her left shoulder, an IV drip going into her left arm. She turned her head as Diggs and the two hawks entered the room. Her eyes widened, and she smiled. "Raoim!"

Raoim smiled back. "Hello, Galais."

"It's so good to see you!" she said. Then she blinked. "You're not wearing your costume! I thought you had to wear it all the time!"

"Dr. Teshobi made me this," Raoim said, unbuttoning his shirt and showing her the chestplate. "It lets me go out in public without hurting anyone."

"Well, that's wonderful!" said Galais. She looked at Adeni. "And who is this?"

"This is Adeni," said Raoim, "my girl."

"Hello, Mrs. Rehin," Adeni said, smiling.

"I'm so happy for both of you!" said Galais. "I used to babysit Raoim when he was just a chick. He was so adorable, always getting into trouble."

"He still is," Adeni smirked, "and he still does!"

"Galais," said Raoim, "the lieutenant here says the police are looking for your nurse, Beldo. They think he did this. Is that true?"

Galais sighed and sank back into her pillow. "No, it wasn't him. It was that bat lineman. Beldo wouldn't do a thing like that. He was gentle, kind, and loving."

"The police found his gun at the scene," said Raoim.

"It wasn't him, it was that bat!" Galais insisted. "Beldo would never hurt me. He loved me!" She looked up at Raoim. "Find him, please!"

Diggs motioned toward the door. Raoim nodded and pressed his beak to the doe's cheek. "I'll do what I can, Galais. Meanwhile, you concentrate on getting better." Then he turned and left the room with Adeni and Diggs.

Once they were out in the hall with the door closed, Raoim turned to Diggs. "What do you think of her story about it being a lineman, Lieutenant?"

"Pretty far-fetched," the woodchuck replied. "We already checked with the phone company. There were no linemen in that area at the time of the shooting."

Raoim sighed. "I guess that's that, then. What I don't understand is why Beldo would do this."

"That's easy," said Diggs. "We got a call from Galais's lawyer just after she was shot. He told us she recently changed her will to make Beldo her sole beneficiary."

Raoim blinked. "Did Beldo know that?"

"According to her lawyer, he did. He thinks Beldo was ingratiating himself with her to inherit her money. As you might imagine, he's not exactly Beldo's biggest fan."

"But Galais said Beldo loved her!" Adeni protested.

Diggs looked at her. "If you want my honest opinion, that sounds like a lonely woman with a lot of faith."

"Could be," said Raoim. "Still, I met Beldo when he was Galais's nurse at the sanitarium where she was staying. He seemed like a nice guy."

Diggs sighed. "We just executed a man who strangled his wife, cut up her body, and buried her in different places all over town. You know what everyone I interviewed said about him?"

"He seemed like a nice guy?"

"Bingo. Look, Volthawk, I understand you have a personal interest in this, but we're not dealing with some supervillain here, just an ordinary case of attempted homicide, which may very well become an actual homicide. Let us handle it, okay?"

Raoim nodded. "Sure thing, Lieutenant. Come on, Adeni." He took her hand and they walked off together.

"Hello?" said Adeni, rapping on Raoim's head gently. "Volthawk, do you read me?"

Raoim lowered his newspaper and looked over at her as she lay beside him on the blanket spread across the grass, the remains of their picnic lunch strewn around them. "Yes, I read you," he replied.

"Ah, so you are still here," she said, sounding miffed.

He sighed, "I'm sorry, Adeni. It's just this business with Galais has me all messed up."

"It's had you messed up for three days," Adeni said, sulking. "The whole idea of this little outing was to help you get un-messed up."

He sat up. "I can't help it! There's too many things that don't add!"

"Like what?" she asked, sitting up as well.

"Beldo finds Galais in her bedroom, shot. He calls the doctor, then the police. A short time later, a gun is found on the lawn. The police check it, find it belongs to him and has been fired recently. They go to arrest him, he makes a break for it and gets away."
Adeni shrugged. "So?"

"So, why did he call the doctor and the police, then leave the gun so they couldn't miss it? For that matter, why try to kill Galais in the first place? He knew he was in her will. All he had to do was wait a few months and he'd inherit her money anyway."

She shrugged again. "Maybe he was impatient. Maybe he was scared she'd change her will."

"Come on, you heard how she talked! She was infatuated with him!"

"Ballistics matched the bullet to Beldo's gun," Adeni pointed out.

"That only proves his gun fired the bullet," Raoim countered. "It doesn't prove he pulled the trigger."

"But he did run," said Adeni.

"Yes, he did." Raoim lay back on the blanket and sighed. "If Nightmunk were still here, he could figure this out."

Adeni nodded. "Probably. He was pretty smart like that."

"Ever since he went back to his own dimension, we haven't had anyone on the team with a background in criminology. Omega Mouse and Dr. Teshobi are scientists, Europa and Ken-Jo are mystics, Slash is a soldier, Firefox is a dancer, and I . . ."

"You read detective magazines," said Adeni.

Raoim scowled. "Reading detective magazines doesn't make you a detective, any more than reading mountain climbing magazines makes you a mountain climber."

"Well, what does make you a detective?" asked Adeni. "I mean, it's not as though you hatch from your egg with a magnifying glass in your hand."

"The same way you learn any trade—by becoming an apprentice to a master."

Adeni nodded. "Do you know of anyone you could apprentice to?"

Raoim smiled. "As a matter of fact . . ."

The bar looked as though it had graced the Nexasho waterfront for the better part of a century, an unremarkable but friendly-looking little establishment squished beneath several floors of apartments, with a neon sign identifying it as "Auntie's" and pointing to the entrance. Raoim got out of his taxi, paid the lemur cab driver, and walked inside.

The air in the bar was thick with a smoky haze, as patrons of many species sat at the tables drinking and listening to a small band playing a tune, which Raoim recognized as an old standard, while a pretty lioness in a scarlet dress stood in a spotlight before a microphone, singing. She sang quite well, he thought. He looked around for the man he'd come to see, but the bar was crowded and lots of people were sitting in shadows.

"Excuse me," he said to a large, elderly, female cape buffalo standing by the bar, who turned her horned head to look down at him. "Are you Auntie?"

She regarded him for a moment with her chocolate-brown eyes. "That's right," she said at last, in a husky voice. "Aren't you a little young to be in here?"

Raiom scowled. "I'm looking for Sidewalk Shaver. I was told I could find him here."

She looked him over warily. "What's your business with him?"

"I want to hire him."

She gestured with a thick finger. "Over there, in the corner."

"Thank you, Auntie," he said, heading in that direction.

Sitting by himself at a table in the corner was a tiger wearing a perfectly tailored suit. His golden eyes watched the singing lioness as he nursed a drink, smoke curling upward from the cigarette in his hand, but then shifted to the hawk weaving through the crowd toward him.

"Mr. Shaver?" Raoim asked.

"Yes?" the tiger asked in a deep, silky voice, looking at him with a curious expression.

"I'd like to hire you," said Raoim.

Shaver gestured at an empty chair. "Have a seat." He watched as the hawk sat down. "You look familiar."

"Does the name Raoim Coromek ring a bell?"

"Ah, now I recognize you. I also seem to recall something about it being dangerous for you to touch anyone when you're not wearing your costume." He glanced down at the hawk's clawed hands folded on the table.

Raoim smiled. "Things have changed. I wear a voltage regulator now. I'm perfectly safe to be around."

"Provided one of your enemies doesn't show up. So, what can I do for you?"

"I'm told you're the best private detective in Nexasho," said Raoim.

"That depends who you ask," said Shaver.

"You know a better one?" asked Raoim.

Shaver chuckled. "Modesty forbids me to say no. On the other hand, it's bad business to praise your competition."

"Well, anyway, I want to retain your services."

"To do what?"

"You've heard about the shooting of Galais Rehin?"

Shaver nodded. "Who hasn't? Nasty business."

"She's an old friend of mine."

"And you want me to find this Beldo Unty."

"Exactly."

Shaver took a drag on his cigarette. "The police are already looking for him, Mr. Coromek, and I don't normally involve myself in cases they're actively investigating. It just makes things easier for everyone."

Raoim leaned forward. "I can make it worth your while. Double your usual fee."

Shaver looked thoughtful. "What makes you think I can bring anything new to the table?"

"The police think Beldo did it."

"And you don't?"

"Galais is a dying woman, and Beldo is the sole beneficiary in her will. Why kill her when all he had to do was wait a while?"

Shaver shrugged. "Perhaps he decided to hurry things along."

"Then why call the doctor and the police?"

"It would look pretty suspicious if he didn't."

"And then there's the gun, left where it could be easily found. How does that make sense?"

"You of all people should know that criminals often do stupid things, Mr. Coromek. I remember a gang who rented a car, used it to commit a robbery, then got caught when they returned it to collect the deposit."

Raoim sighed. "All right, it's possible the police are right and Beldo did it. But isn't it also possible this is a frame?"

Shaver took another puff on his cigarette. "I remember reading that Galais claimed a telephone lineman shot her."

"Yeah, and the phone company says there were no linemen in that area. But what if the lineman was a phony? He could have climbed the pole, called Galais with one of those hook-in phones they use on the wires, lured her to the window, and bang."

"With Beldo's gun."

"He could have stolen that."

"Where did he get the hook-in phone?"

"He could have stolen that, too. Or he could have bought one. They can't be that hard to get hold of."

"That's a lot of 'could haves,'" Shaver commented.

"Look, I know it sounds far out," said Raoim, "but I want to explore all the possibilities. Galais means a lot to me. She used to babysit me when I was little. She always baked me sugar cookies, because she knew how much I loved them. I remember how good they tasted, fresh and warm from the oven."

Shaver smiled. "Who am I to argue with warm sugar cookies?"

Raoim brightened. "Then you'll take the case?"

"I can at least make some inquiries."

"In that case, I have another request to make."

"What's that?"

"I want to come along."

Shaver raised an eyebrow. "I normally work alone, Mr. Coromek."

"I know, but I want to learn how to be a detective, and I want to learn from the best."

"I'm flattered, but . . ."

"You know what I can do," Raoim pressed. "You can't deny I could be useful. And it's not like I'll freeze up at the first sign of trouble. I'm used to being in dangerous situations."

"It's not that I doubt your abilities, or your courage," said Shaver. "But you're a celebrity. It's going to be hard to be discreet if people keep coming up to you asking for autographs."

Raoim smiled. "I've already thought of that." He reached down into a bag slung over his shoulder, took out a hat and sunglasses, and put them on. "I'll be incognito."

Shaver regarded him dubiously. "Mr. Coromek . . ."

"Triple your fee?" Raoim asked.

Shaver sighed. "All right. But only this once. I don't want you thinking this is a regular deal. If I wanted a partner, I'd have one."

"Great!" said Raoim, his feathers ruffling in delight. "When do we start?"

"Right now," Shaver replied. He crushed out his cigarette, tossed back the rest of his drink, and rose from his seat.

Raoim blinked. "Now?"

"Time is money, Mr. Coromek. Your money."

Raoim nodded, standing up as well. "Please, call me Raoim."

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind."

Shaver and Raoim trudged into Auntie's, both of them looking weary and dejected. They came up behind the bar's namesake, who was standing before a table, talking to some customers.

"Auntie," said Shaver, by way of a greeting.

The cape buffalo turned toward the tiger, gazing down at him from a height advantage of several inches. "Stranger," she replied.

Shaver shook his head. "Is that any way to talk?"

"It's the way Auntie talks. Where've you been for the past three days?"

"Looking," said Raoim, sounding annoyed.

"Still no luck?"

Shaver shrugged. "Small needle, big haystack."

"We just stopped by to wet our whistles," said Raoim.

Auntie eyed the hawk. "With what?"

"Whiskey and soda," said Shaver. "That's whiskey for me, and a soda for him."

"The bar's yours," Auntie said, and returned to talking to her customers.

Shaver went behind the bar and began fixing the drinks while Raoim sat down heavily on a stool next to the lioness singer, who was sitting and reading a newspaper spread across the counter. The tiger handed the hawk his soda, took a gulp from his whiskey, and leaned over the paper, looking at the lioness. "Hi," he said.

She looked up from her paper and peered back at him curiously. "Your name's on the tip of my tongue. Don't tell me, I'll get it."

"I've just been through this," Shaver growled.

"It begins with a P," the lioness said. "An S, maybe?"

Shaver sighed. "Tassa . . ."

She clasped his free hand with both of hers and pressed her lips to it. "Been lonely without you, Sidewalk."

"That goes both ways," Shaver replied. "Oh, where are my manners? Tassa, this is Raoim. Raoim, Tassa."

"Hello, Tassa," said Raoim.

"Hi," said Tassa.

"Raoim's learning how to be a detective," said Shaver.

"That's a very disreputable profession," said Tassa. She gazed at the hawk for a moment. "You look taller in the papers."

Raoim sighed. "Well, so much for my clever disguise. Does everyone in here know who I am?"

Tassa smiled. "Only me, Auntie, the bartender, the waiter, the musicians . . . so yeah, pretty much everyone."

"Told you it was a bad idea," said Shaver, taking another sip from his glass.

An eland wearing a tuxedo and holding a saxophone came over to them. "You're on, Tassa," he said.

She hung her head. "Work, work, work."

"Want to trade places?" asked Shaver. "At least you've got someplace to go."

Raoim glanced at the tiger. "You've gotten nine days' pay for three days' work. Shut up."

"Don't you get a stipend from the city?" Shaver asked as Tassa went over to the microphone.

"Yeah, but I was saving up for a sports car so I could take my girl on motor trips."

"What's wrong with the Ark?"

"The Ark is reserved for emergencies. Plus it's too big for Lover's Lane."

Tassa began singing another old standard while Shaver and Raoim watched from the bar. "You think Beldo's skipped town?" Raoim asked.

Shaver shook his head. "Not with the police looking for him. He's holed up somewhere."

"Well, he's hidden himself damn well," Raoim grumbled. "We must have checked every cheap hotel and flophouse in the city."

"Being a detective is rarely as glamorous or exciting as it is in the magazines and movies," said Shaver. "Mostly, it's a lot of tedious, frustrating legwork."

"Thanks, I'm getting that."

Shaver took another sip from his drink and held it up, studying the way the bar lights were refracted through it. "One of the most important things a detective needs to learn is patience."

"How long does that take?" asked Raoim.

Shaver chuckled. "I'm actually surprised you stuck it out this long. I thought you'd give up after the first day." Then he tensed as he saw someone approaching them. "This may be what's known in the trade as 'a break.'"

Raoim followed the tiger's gaze. The subject of interest was a short, skinny, rather shabbily dressed musk deer. "Friend of yours?"

"Hardly," Shaver replied. "Keep your hand on your wallet."

The deer came up to Shaver, smiling a rather greasy smile that wasn't helped by the pair of sharp tusks protruding down on either side of his mouth. "Sidewalk, me boy!" he said, in a soft, lyrical voice.

The tiger nodded. "Something you want, Quayt?"

Quayt smirked. "More like something you want." He glanced at Raoim. "And who might this be?"

"He's my illegitimate son," said Shaver.

"Can't you see the resemblance?" Raoim asked.

Quayt peered at the hawk harder. "Ye resemble someone . . ."

Raoim nodded. "I get that a lot."

"Ye wouldn't be a policeman now, would ye?" asked Quayt warily.

"Yeah, we met at your last line-up," said Raoim.

"Trust me," said Shaver, "he isn't a cop."

Quayt appeared satisfied. "Might we talk someplace private?"

Shaver indicated the back of the bar, and all three of them made their way across the floor and out the back door, exiting onto a wooden walkway above the dark, fetid waters of Nexasho Harbor, small lizards scurrying across the planks ahead of them.

"You selling something?" Shaver asked Quayt.

"I am at that," Quayt replied, smiling, "and you're a pair o' lucky lads, me boyos."

"What are we buying?" Raoim asked.

Quayt's smile became an unsettling grin. "A badger by the name o' Beldo Unty. I can give him to ye on a plate. But ye gotta make it worth me while, lads. Two hundred."

Shaver shook his head. "Delivery first."

Quayt looked hurt. "Sidewalk, me lad, would I be lyin' to ye?"

Shaver smirked. "In a heartbeat. You got him, show me. Then the money."

Quayt sighed. "'Tis a miserable hard bargain ye be drivin'. All right, come on." He turned and left, and they followed.

The Tired Repose Mission was located in the northern slums of Nexasho, the poorest and most run-down section of the great metropolis. It occupied the remains of a great hotel that had long ago been abandoned and fallen into disrepair. The double doors read, "Welcome. Open Day and Night." Its patrons were of many species—big and small, herbivore and carnivore, mammal and avian. The one thing they all had in common was that they had nowhere else to go.

Shaver, Raoim, and Quayt passed through those doors into what had once been the lobby, now serving as an assembly hall, where the weary and downtrodden were sitting and listening to a rather portly rooster wearing a ragged pinstripe suit and top hat as he stood behind a podium, his mellifluous voice extolling the virtues of hard work and sacrifice. Behind him was a sign urging them to write a letter home. Against one wall stood a table upon which sat an electric pot filled with steaming hot soup. Several of the audience glanced at it, licking their lips as they listened to the rooster's sermon. Quayt lifted the cover and sniffed the steam rising from it as he and his companions went by.

The musk deer led the tiger and the hawk up a flight of stairs to a hallway lined with doors and stopped before one, pointing and looking back at them. Shaver nodded to him, drawing a revolver from beneath his jacket. Quayt knocked. "Beldo? It's me, Quayt. Open up, it's all right." No response. "Come on, open up, man!" Quayt urged.

Shaver moved up beside him and tried the knob. It was unlocked. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, Raoim right behind. The room was dark, but the tiger's eyes could see clearly. Unfortunately, he did not see the hefty badger standing flattened against the wall to his right. A thick, powerful fist struck Shaver's right temple, dropping him to the floor. Raoim reached for the controls of his voltage regulator, but a second fist slammed into his cheek, dropping him as well. Beldo ran out into the hallway, ignoring Quayt, who made no move to stop him. The badger dashed down the stairs and was gone.

Sidewalk Shaver woke up feeling as if a chorus line were dancing on his skull. He groaned and got unsteadily to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. He looked over at Raoim. The boy was lying sprawled on his back in the hall, his beak partway open. Shaver staggered over and knelt beside him, smacking his beak lightly. "Wake up."

Raiom's eyes opened and he moaned, sat up, and rubbed his cheek. "Well, don't I feel like a sap."

Shaver nodded. "That makes two of us. Aren't you supposed to be a superhero?"

The hawk glared at him. "I'm not Omega Mouse, or even Slash! Punches hurt me just like anyone else! And that badger swings a mean left hook!"

Shaver sighed, stood up, and went down the stairs, and Raoim got up and followed him. In the assembly hall, dinner was being served. Quayt was standing among the other indigents with a bowl in his hand, spooning soup between his tusks and smacking his lips with pleasure. He noticed the pair and came over to them. "Sidewalk, my dear boy! Are you and your young charge all right?"

"A lot you care," Shaver said dryly.

"What an unkind thing to say!" said Quayt, looking hurt. "I was just on me way up to wake ye!"

"Sure you were," said Shaver. "Where's Beldo?"

"Lit off like a firecracker, he did," Quayt replied. "I saw no wisdom in tryin' to stop him when you two fine, strong, young gentlemen couldn't. Now, as to finance, I did deliver the goods, as promised." The musk deer looked at the tiger expectantly.

"Answers first," said Shaver. "How long has Beldo been here?"

Quayt thought a moment. "Three, maybe four days. I ran errands for him from time to time."

"Why'd you suddenly decide to sell him to us?" asked Raoim.

"It was a sort of capital gains deal, ye might say," said Quayt, smiling.

"In other words, Beldo ran out of money," said Shaver. "Did he try to contact anyone?"

Quayt's attention drifted out across the room, and Shaver sighed, reached into his jacket, and pulled out some bills, holding them up for him to see.

"Ah, me memory's comin' back!" said Quayt, grinning. "He sent me to a garage across town. I was to ask for a woman called Aulta, to tell her that Beldo needed money. I went, but she wasn't in, and that was that."

"What garage?" Shaver asked.

Quayt's attention began wandering again, but was yanked back when the tiger took out some more bills. "Ah, Riskor's Garage, it was! On Demmet, east of Lime."

Shaver pressed the bills into Quayt's outstretched hand, and the musk deer grinned, rubbing them along his snout. "Pleasure doin' business with ye, me lad!" he said.

The tiger just smirked. "Come on, let's go," he said to Raoim, heading for the exit.

Raoim moved to follow, but then stopped as something caught his eye. A mouse sitting at a nearby table was struggling to lift a spoon from a bowl of soup to his mouth with hands gnarled by arthritis. A big bear sitting beside him reached down, took the spoon from the mouse's bent fingers, and began to gently ferry the soup into the mouse's mouth. The mouse looked up at the bear and smiled, and the bear smiled back.

Raoim went over to the pair, his throat tight. He took out his wallet and put some money down before the mouse. "Go see a doctor about those hands," he said. Then he turned and left.

Shaver and Raoim drove down Demmet Street until they came to the ugly, grimy edifice identifying itself as Riskor's G Rage, the first A having fallen off the sign. They parked beside the building, got out, walked in past a couple of cars in various stages of repair, and entered the office. An attractive female badger was sitting behind the desk, doing some paperwork. She looked up as the pair came in. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"My name's Shaver," the tiger said.

"That's nice," the badger replied. "What make of car and where is it?"

"My car's right outside, and it's fine," said Shaver.

"You're cute," she said, "but it's late and I'm tired. What do you want?"

"A few words with a woman named Aulta."

She frowned. "You just had them." She turned and went to the filing cabinet behind the desk, opening a drawer and stuffing the papers inside.

"Would it help if my name were Beldo Unty?" Shaver asked.

Aulta turned back to face him. "What about him?"

"I'm just trying to locate him."

She smirked. "And you thought you'd find him here? That's very funny."

"He was trying to reach you to get money," Shaver said. "He must have had some reason for asking you for it."

She held up a hand, showing him a wedding ring and scowling. "This a good enough reason? Three years as Mrs. Beldo Unty. Only it seems I lack something. I'm not rich, like Galais Rehin. I work for a living. You think I'd lift a finger to help him?"

Raoim nudged the tiger, and Shaver glanced to his left to see a bat in white coveralls emerging from the men's room. The bat went over to one of the cars and began working on it. Shaver's gaze returned to Aulta. "If you hear from your husband, would you give me a call?" he asked.

"Why would I do that?" she asked. "I told you, I don't give a damn about him."

Shaver placed a bill on the desk, and she picked it up and stuffed it in her blouse. "Where can I reach you?" she asked.

"Auntie's," he replied. "It's a bar on the waterfront."

"We'll see," said Aulta.

Shaver nodded. "Thanks." He turned to Raoim. "Come on." They left the garage together.

As soon as they were gone, the bat stopped working and ran over to the office, looking worried. "They could be trouble," he said nervously.

"You heard?" Aulta asked.

"These ears ain't just for show, babe. If they find Beldo, they could blow the whole deal!"

"I know, Risk," said Aulta. "So they'd better not find him." She put a thick arm around the bat's waist and pulled his slender form against her stocky one, pressing her mouth to his. Riskor responded in kind, kissing her muzzle passionately.

"You saw the bat?" asked Raoim as they walked back to Shaver's car beneath the glow of the street lamps.

"I saw him," the tiger replied. "It doesn't prove anything."

The hawk stared at him. "You think it's just a coincidence that a bat shot Galais?"

"You know how many bats live in this city?" asked Shaver. "Thousands. Now if she'd been shot by a platypus and there were one working there, you might have something. That's why rare species don't usually become criminals. They're too conspicuous."

They drove back to Auntie's, parked across the street, got out of the car, and walked toward the bar. As they approached, a van came hurtling down the street toward them, headlights blazing. They both reacted instantly, moving in opposite directions, Shaver ducking between two parked cars while Raoim dove onto the divider. The hawk rolled as he hit the ground, turned the dial on his voltage regulator with one hand, raised his other arm, and shot a lightning bolt at the back of the van, melting a hole in the rear door. Unfortunately, the van's metal body effectively dispersed the charge, and Zoolokian vehicles were steam powered, so there were no spark plugs to burn out. Shaver drew his pistol and fired, putting three holes in the rear door as the van sped away. Then it swerved around a corner and was gone.

"Did you see the driver?" asked Raoim, getting to his feet.

Shaver nodded. "It was a bat. And that was the same van that was parked in the alley beside Riskor's Garage."

"I didn't even notice the van," said Raoim, looking embarrassed.

"You're new at this. You okay?"

The hawk nodded. "Just a few bruises, nothing serious. Well, seems like we ruffled someone's feathers!"

Shaver looked at him. "You've been waiting this whole case to say that, haven't you?"

Raoim smiled. "Yeah, I have, actually."

The tiger sighed. "That's what I'd expect from someone who reads detective magazines." He began reloading his gun.

"You ever read them?" asked Raoim.

"Only when I need a good laugh." Shaver finished reloading and snapped the cylinder back into his revolver. "Come on, let's head back to Riskor's Garage."

They got into his car and drove off.

Shaver and Raoim snuck into Riskor's Garage through a rear window, and the hawk felt a tingle of excitement to be doing something that his status as a Hero of Zoolok would normally preclude. While working with Sidewalk Shaver for the past three days, he'd been just an average Joe, circulating among normal people, drawing little attention to himself. It was an interesting change of pace for someone who had spent the last few years in the public eye due to the necessity of always wearing his costume. He could definitely get used to this.

The garage was dark save for the light in the office, the cars looking like sleeping cattle. A tapping sound coming from the office caught their attention, and Shaver drew his gun and moved stealthily in that direction, Raoim following. Through the window in the office door, they could see Beldo attempting to force open the cash register with a hammer and screwdriver. They approached without a sound, and Shaver put his hand on the knob and turned it softly, but it squeaked, and Beldo looked up, alarmed. The badger snatched a loose headlamp off the counter and hurled it at the window, shattering the glass. Shaver yanked the door open as Beldo turned and ran for the other door, and Raoim dashed in, seizing the burly badger by his arm and shoulder and throwing him to the concrete floor. Shaver blinked in surprise. Beldo was at least twice the hawk's weight, and with the frail builds they'd inherited from their flying ancestors, birds were not generally known for their strength. "And here I thought all you did was shoot lightning bolts," the tiger remarked.

Raoim smiled. "Europa trained me in martial arts, in case I was ever in a situation where I couldn't use my powers."

"I'll have to remember that."

Beldo was lying on the floor, his black eyes on Shaver's gun, looking utterly defeated. "Go ahead and shoot," he said. "I can't run anymore. No money, no place to go."

Shaver put the gun away. "You give up easier than Galais Rehin. She says you didn't do it."

At the mention of her name, Beldo began sobbing. Shaver and Raoim looked at each other, and then the hawk crouched down and helped the badger to his feet. "You've got it all wrong, Beldo," Raoim said. "We're on your side. But if we're gonna help you, you have to level with us, all the way."

Beldo growled, baring his fangs. "My wife put me up to it. My beautiful wife, with her beautiful ideas. 'She's sick, Beldo. Sick and rich, with no one to give her money to. Charm her. Win her heart.'" His muzzle twisted in disgust. "Like a pair of ghouls. I was supposed to be everything she needed." Then he looked at them both, and his expression softened. "Only it backfired. Turned out, she was everything I needed."

"With a wife like that, I'm not surprised!" Raoim commented.

"So you fell in love with Galais," Shaver said.

Beldo nodded. "Last week, I told my wife I wanted a divorce. I didn't even care about the money anymore. I just wanted to be with Galais and away from her. Two days later . . ." His voice trailed off.

"Don't move!" came a voice from the door Beldo had been trying to flee through. There stood Aulta and Riskor, the badger glaring at her husband, black eyes burning with hate, while the bat held a pistol aimed at Shaver. Riskor came in and took Shaver's gun away from him, while Aulta strode up to Beldo and slugged him, sending him staggering backward.

"Why didn't you keep running, Beldo?" she snarled as he rubbed his snout. "You were supposed to run until you were killed or caught! Then, when they fried you, the money would come to me. After all, I'm your wife. And that's how it'll still work out, when Riskor and I tell the police you were shot dead while breaking into his garage!" She grinned at him savagely, fangs gleaming.

Shaver glanced at Raoim. "Looks like someone didn't do their homework."

The hawk nodded. "Paragraph 41, Section 15 of the Civil Code: A criminal cannot profit from their crime."

"Meaning if Beldo were convicted of killing Galais Rehin, he wouldn't inherit a penny, no matter what her will said."

"And neither would you," said Raoim, looking at Aulta and smiling.

"You're not exactly the first person who's tried to kill someone for their money," Shaver chided her.

Raoim glared at Riskor. "Which means you shot Galais for nothing!"

The two criminals stared at each other as their dreams of lives of wealth and leisure crumbled around them. Then Aulta's face hardened. "We still have to get rid of these two," she said, indicating Shaver and Raoim. "Risk, put them in the van."

The bat nodded and moved up behind Raoim, prodding the hawk in the back with his pistol. "Move."

Raoim reached down and turned the dial on his voltage regulator. There was a burst of sparks, and Riskor shrieked and crumpled to the floor. Instantly, Beldo scooped up the bat's pistol and pointed it at Aulta.

"Is he dead?" Shaver asked, retrieving his gun from Riskor, who was lying sprawled on his back, eyes closed.

"Nah," said Raoim. "Heroes of Zoolok don't kill. I kept the setting low so he was only knocked out." He scowled at the unconscious bat. "That was just a taste of what he'll feel when they strap him in!"

Shaver nodded. "Assuming Galais doesn't pull through."

Aulta shrank back against the wall as Beldo advanced toward her, gun in hand, growling. "How does it feel, darling, knowing you're about to die?" Beldo asked. "Tell me, I want to know!"

"Drop it, Beldo!" Shaver ordered, pointing his gun at the badger as Raoim turned the dial up on his regulator.

"Butt out!" Beldo yelled, trembling. "She deserves it!"

"But you don't," said Raoim, holding up a clawed hand, electricity crackling between his fingers. "Please, don't make me do this!"

"Kill her and you're as bad as she is," said Shaver. "Give me the gun and you walk away free and clear." He held out a hand to the badger. "Is she really worth it?"

Beldo swallowed, glaring contemptuously at his wife. "No. No, she isn't." He handed his gun to Shaver. Raoim sighed and turned his regulator back down. Shaver went to the desk and dialed the police.

Auntie's was busy, as usual, when Raoim walked in. Tassa was singing under the spotlight, Auntie was standing by the bar and keeping watch over the crowd, and Sidewalk Shaver was sitting at a table in the back, nursing a glass of whiskey and smoking a cigarette. He glanced up at the hawk as he approached. "Howdy, Hero," the tiger said. "What brings you here?"

"We have some unfinished business," said Raoim, sitting down and sliding an envelope across the table to him. "Your fee for nine days work, plus expenses, as listed on your bill."

Shaver accepted the envelope and stuffed it in his jacket. "Guess that sports car will have to wait."

Raoim sighed. "I assume you heard about Galais."

Shaver nodded. "The bullet finally did its job."

"Looks like Aulta and Riskor won't be far behind," said Raoim. "Well, at least Beldo's now a rich man."

Shaver leaned back in his chair, smoke curling upward from his cigarette. "So, I assume you didn't come here just to pay me," he said. "You could have done that by mail."

Raoim smiled. "I've been thinking, we made a pretty good team."

Shaver considered that. "Not bad. You're smarter than I thought you'd be, and more persistent. And you have good instincts. And the whole electricity thing comes in handy."

"Dr. Teshobi is working on a more compact voltage regulator I can wear on my belt. I was wondering if you might be able to use some help on any other cases." Raoim looked at the tiger hopefully.

"What about your duties as a Hero of Zoolok?" asked Shaver.

"I've got some vacation time coming."

"And you'd rather spend it with me than your girl? I'm flattered."

Raoim shrugged and smiled. "What would I drive her around in?"

Shaver took a sip of his drink. "I'll think about it."

"Great!" said Raoim, looking delighted. Then his smile faded as a young female waterbuck and a young female rabbit came up to the table.

"Could you sign these?" the antelope girl asked, giggling as she held out two eight by ten glossies of himself in his Volthawk costume.

"Um, sure," said Raoim, patting himself down for a pen, which he turned out not to have. Shaver handed him one, and he signed the pictures and gave them back to the girls, who thanked him and left, giggling to each other.

Shaver took another gulp of whiskey. "Yeah, we'll have to do something about that."