Cloudy Night
Chief Bogo sat at his massive mahogany desk. A thoughtful frown played his already hard features closer to the irritable side of his nature. His reading glasses perched upon his brow did little to reduce the severity of his glare as he pressed through a report, still warm from being enlarged for him to read with less strain. His fresh coffee blew tiny tendrils of steam as it sat, ignored, on his desk near the haphazard group of other case files. Each file depicting a different music star reported as missing. His computer screen, however, contained no missing case's file, but the image of a massive vintage SUV on zBay. The quiet TV mounted to the wall close to his desk was set to ZNN, the information banner blazing letters neatly across the bottom screen while the anchor reported the latest. Finishing the last lines of the official report and tossing the docket onto his already filled desktop, Bogo removes his glasses and rubs his care worn eyes while leaning back in his overstuffed chair. A slowly drawn, deep breathe was equally slowly released, unleashed from the bottom of his chest and discharged through his massive nose, while he listened to the reporter finish the latest breaking news. 'They know nearly as much as I do, and I'm the chief of police.' the cynical thought boiling up in his brain from the lack of sleep coupled with growing frustration. He opens his eyes, and stares pensively above the TV, picking a place of nothing on his wall to bear his unhappy gaze. After a few moments, his intercom lights on his desk phone after releasing a light tone, breaking him from his internal brooding with a slight and almost inaudible sigh.
"Yes Rachel, what is it?" he clipped while pressing the flashing button, now solidly lit.
"Sorry to bother you, sir," came the quiet voice of his secretary, "But Clawhouser has a mammal in the lobby that has information on something called 'Cloudy Night'. I've never heard of it, but I thought that you might have...?"
Bogo sat with a slight frown while contemplating, absently going through a mental check for the phrase, his thoughts brought in counter harmony to the background noise of the TV anchor pleased to release even more breaking news. He ponders a few moments, shakes his head to himself, and reaches for the intercom to respond in the negative to Rachel, when his ears perk toward the peculiar noise of the ZNN anchor getting urgent fresh news, the slightly pompous reporter states:
"This just in. An anonymous report says that officials are calling this recent chain of music stars disappearances 'Cloudy Night'. This has a very ominous undertone, especially since the ZPD has repeatedly denied that these events are connected…"
Bogo's eyes shot wide at the mention of 'Cloudy Night'.
"How the…" he barely breathed to himself, not realizing he'd touched the send button on the intercom.
After a pause, Rachel's sweet, quiet voice came back, touched slightly with concern, "What was that, Sir?"
"I'm sorry, Rachel, but can you repeat that please?" He asked, muting the TV.
"Of course, sir. There is a mammal requesting to see you over something called 'Cloudy Night'. Should I get an officer to take a statement and send him on his way, since you're busy and all?" Rachel offered.
The Chief hesitates, closes his eyes and shakes his head.
"Sir, he says this information is for you, alone. Should I inform him you are busy?" Rachel asks, evenly.
He contemplates this for a second, but decides the coincidence too large to ignore. "No Rachel, please send him in. What is this mammal's name?"
"One second, Sir...Ok sir, he's on his way back and his name is George Coldart."
"Coldart...Coldart, hmmmmm." Bogo mutters to himself, looking up, as if trying to access his brain manually and search the file of known or infamous people. Nothing rings any memory bells. Mashing the intercom button again in irritation, "When he gets to the outer office, tell him he has five minutes Rachel." His tone controlled, revealing none of his internal irritation, mostly at the lack of progress on the missing mammal cases.
"Yes Sir." she replied smartly.
Bogo sat in silence, absently staring at the silent TV, his brain churning thoughts behind his reddish-orange eyes, going a little more red to match his quickly retreating patience. 'I hope this is the break we need, after three weeks of nothing, not even an errant hair to chase. Damn press.' he thought, followed by a tension draining sigh. He didn't want his exasperation at the case to be seen as chagrin at the unknown fellow, especially if he could be useful. The thought of him seems to summon this Coldart, as Bogo can hear some hushed voices in the outer office, where Rachel was stationed. Seconds pass, and a knock is placed on the door to his inner office.
"Enter." He stated simply, his normal tone more than adequate to reach through the door for even the deafest mammal.
The door opens promptly at his call while he pulls out a fresh notepad and pen, his gaze on the desk drawer. When he looks up, Bogo is surprised to see a young gray wolf wearing a meticulous black suit with matching vest. His silky blue shirt was pinned in place with a perfect blue tie, precisely two shades darker than the shirt. Rectangular blue-mirror tinted sunglasses, while hiding his eyes, transformed the classic suit from archaic to posh and stylish, enhancing the self-assured smile played across the lighter gray muzzle. With a quiet, yet warm, thanks to Rachel, the gray pup began the tiny trek toward the desk. Bogo quickly realized his mistake while the mammal crossed his office floor with grace and confidence, this was no young pup, but a small grown wolf. He was easily six inches shorter than any gray wolf he'd ever observed, though his air of assertiveness lent authority to his countenance. The slight clacking from the floor drew Bogo's attention to the dreadfully expensive black dress shoes, matching a perfect sized briefcase and black fedora, resting lightly in his left paw, the light fist showing the quick silvery flash of a wedding band, his dark gray overcoat draped casually over his right arm. His gray ears, perfectly erect, aimed toward his goal. The only oddity, besides his use of shoes, was his tail. Though the same shade of gray as his muzzle, it seemed bushier, fuller than his species would normally dictate. His tail seemed a slight counter harmony to the mammal, keeping the excess of dress from entering pomposity, it lent the appearance of pleasantness and charm. Oddly, it set the observer at ease, destroying the arrogance his custom tailored suit suggested. As he closed the distance, he smartly placed the overcoat over his left paw, and, still walking, deftly removed his sunglasses, revealing his deep blue eyes, crisp, but warm. Placing his glasses in the top pocket of his suit with practiced ease, he extended his right paw for a formal shake, as the last inches were eaten by his assertive gait. Bogo rose and reached across the desk to accept the paw, firm shake accompanied by a clear voice.
"Chief Bogo, I am George Coldart. I'd like to thank you for a few minutes of your valuable time." George's voice was indeed clear and warm, but it had a hint of...something… As he climbed into the chair placed in front of the desk, he placed his overcoat with quick, practiced care in the other, larger chair beside the one he currently resided while he continued speaking as Bogo took his own seat,"Your assistant informed me that I have five minutes, so I'll be brief. As I'm certain you've been informed, I have…'information'...on 'Cloudy Night'. Well, information about one star in particular. Are you interested?" George had placed his briefcase atop the previously discarded overcoat and had turned it to face him, his paws on the locks as he delivered the last in the awkward pose of looking over his shoulder while maintaining both eye contact and paws in proper place to open the case. His brows arched as he awaited Bogo's response, his slightly bushy tail poised with masterly care behind his back, his head cocked slightly to the side.
"Obviously Mr. Coldart, or you wouldn't be in here." the cape buffalo grumbled, his weariness breaking through his iron resolve.
With a single curt nod, George continued, "Very well. Before I begin, I need you to understand that this information is strictly confidential." Bogo's answering nod was as curt as George's had been. "Good. Does the name Jonathan Card mean anything to you, sir?" George's deep blue eye's held the Chief's red-orange orbs, which hardened slightly at the name.
"You mean the accountant? Yes, I've heard of him. Why does he matter in all of this?" Curiosity mixed with disdain made for strange bedfellows on Bogo's tongue.
George's self-assured smile widened at the affirmation, two clicks heard from the adjoining chair. George broke eye contact to reach into the now open case and efficiently pulled out a single docket. He glanced at the docket and continued, "I'll tell you. I'm a liaison on his behalf. Mr. Card has a proposition for you. He knows the whereabouts of one of the missing stars," Glancing at the open docket, "a Ms. Gazelle," Bogo sucked an involuntary sharp breathe at the name, but George continued as though there had been no interruption," and he is willing to help you ease the public's panic by revealing that she is completely safe and unharmed. He will allow the ZPD to break this news in anyway you see fit. However, he has stringent conditions on how this will transpire."
Bogo had listened intently, his face hopeful until the last sentence, which sat his gaze to one of granite, allowing some of his ire to slip into his response, "The ZPD will NOT be blackmailed by anyone!" Bogo slammed his fist to his desk, making his coffee cup hop, and almost magically land back where it was without spilling a drop. His red eyed glare directed at George, mixed with the menacingly slight drop of his chin to bring his massive horns into clear view, was capable of melting lesser mammals into instant submission, George held Bogo's withering gaze for five heartbeats, his ears unruffled, his gray shot tail not even twitching.
Unflappably, though George does drop the grin from his muzzle while his eyes adjust from warm to cool, he responds quietly, "No Chief. No blackmail or anything untoward. Just simple conditions." No frost or malice in his response, just stone cold facts. As Bogo drew breath to respond, George quickly added, "Would you at least like to hear them before dismissing the idea entirely?" Following this, the cold expression melts to a fully genuine smile, like a life-long friend attempting to make a bad situation seem better with a compassionate look of encouragement. After holding the smile for a second, George both wipes the grin from his muzzle and gains an air of pure innocence, his tail wrapping around his right side slightly, enough that the tip is visible between his arm and black suited body. His brows arch quizzically while he waits for a response, absently stroking his fluffy gray appendage.
After several more heartbeats, Bogo gave a simple nod mixed with a sigh, though irritation and ire were clearly visible on his scornful visage.
Again glancing at the docket, obviously filled with notes, George regains what seems to be his normal, unperturbed grin, his tail slipping to its perfect poise behind his back as he continued," Mr. Card only asks two things of the ZPD for his assistance. Well, two mammals to be precise. Preferably not detectives and of medium to small species, more for their own comfort rather than his. You won't know where they are, but you have his word, and the word of two council members, that they will be safe and well treated and properly compensated for their time. They will be out of the loop for at least two weeks, possibly a month. The best candidates will be without home life obligations, not married, without children." George looks up from his notes to meet the red-orange, more red currently, eyes of the Chief.
"What for and what do I get?" his irritation pulling him more toward bluntness. The Chief reaches for his cooled coffee and takes a healthy swallow.
The diminutive gray wolf smiles again, and continues with a little more warmth, "Glad you asked that, Chief Bogo. For starters, the two officers are there to ensure the others safety. The lack of homely obligations is for the ease of transition. As for your gains? You get to show progress in a tough and very public investigation. Spin the information of Ms. Gazelle's safety for your own benefit. This would be a delicious morsel to spoon feed the media a heroic story of your officers. That will provide two important gains. First, you get to show the public a small victory. This will work toward placating the masses, as well as to boost internal morale for an added bonus. Second, it will grant you validity and room to work and breathe, relieving tension and letting the department refocus its efforts. I have heard a few reports questioning your ability to work this particular level of investigation, and have heard more than one pompous news anchor ask if this should be handled by a different agency." George finished this with a meaningful glance at the silent, but still on TV, which Bogo leveled a disgusted glance at.
"What's the catch?" the Chief asked harshly, imagining reputation tarnishing obligations.
"No catch, Chief Bogo. Only the conditions mentioned earlier. Oh, I almost forgot. One of the officers should probably be female. That should help Ms. Gazelle be more open and conversational. The proof of her safety will be a video provided to you, and two females engaged in happy chit-chat will do well for both confirmation of her being unharmed and the PR campaign for yourself with the press."
After half a minute of quiet contemplation, Chief Bogo begins,"I could arrest you and hold you until you give up the information, dispensing with the need for this elaborate plan and any negative consequences. Regardless of what you claim, there will be a catch for me if the press hears anything about this." The thought of this pompous short gray wolf in detainee orange almost put a smile to his lips. Almost.
George rested his muzzle on his paws, considering the Chief's words, his tail twitching thoughtfully. His eyes never strayed from Bogo's, and they weren't cold or icy, but gauging, measuring. This was a mammal in control, and his assertiveness showed in his responding tone, "You could, Chief Bogo, but it wouldn't help you at all. The first problem for you is that I have no idea where Ms. Gazelle is. Hold me till the sky falls, it will get you no closer to solving this case or any other. In fact, I would guarantee you will never find her until Mr. Card or Ms. Gazelle want you to. Second, the two council members vouching for Mr. Card's sincerity also have certain 'leverage' they are willing to use for me, should just this situation arise. You wouldn't want a needless scandal of ZPD over aggression on an innocent citizen in the midst of these slow moving investigations, would you Chief? No, this line of reasoning will gain you nothing, and cost you more dearly than just the help of Mr. Card. Mr. Card is offering assistance, I suggest you at least consider it and hope you will accept. This has little risk for you, outside of the highly improbable chance of a scandal, and costs you even less, even on the monetary aspect. Mr. Card will compensate the officers involved, probably better than their normal rate." George's normal self assured smile returned at his final remark, his tail lazily hugging under his right arm, which he thumbed familiarly. He looked entirely at ease, not like someone being threatened with imprisonment.
Bogo leans back in his chair, with his tepid coffee mug in hand, deep in silent contemplation of the possible plan laid out by this undergrown, yet dangerous gray wolf. His confidence was slightly unnerving, making Bogo doubt he could even get him booked before an army of blood sucking lawyers descended on his station like a plague. Bogo had to agree, there was little risk or cost, and nothing but gain for him and the ZPD. After several minutes, he finally asks, "My officers will be safe?"
"Perfectly, you have Mr. Card's word. Little is known about Mr. Card, but you know his word IS gold, sir. And as a little added insurance, those two council members vouch for it. You're officers will need to understand the full meaning of the word 'discretion', however." George's ears perked warmly, indicating this wasn't a threat, just facts.
Bogo nodded absently at that, but thought 'Little is known? More like nothing, not even his damned species. Still, every bit known about him agree that his honor and word are impeccable and beyond reproach. Even murders and thieves wouldn't dishonor his word. Or contract.'
"I will pick the officers myself, but I can't make them do this. They will have to hear you out and decide for themselves. I can't make that an order. You understand Mr. Coldart?"
"I understand perfectly, Chief Bogo. I'll wait for my time to present myself in the lobby." George placed the docket into the open case, and began retrieving his effects.
"I have one question for you, George. How the Hell did you know about 'Cloudy Night'? What does it even mean?"
With an ironic smile, George replied, "Mr. Card deals in knowledge. How he knew, I can only guess. Though, if you examine it, it does hold a poetic twist." Bogo sat, growing more obviously impatient as the seconds rolled forward. After a quick chuckle to himself, George let Bogo in on his musings, "Well, think about it Chief Bogo. You don't see many 'Stars' on a cloudy night." After a moments pause filled with a wolfy grin, "I'll wait for your officers in the lobby, and I'll part from you with a personal promise that you won't be disappointed, sir." With his effects gathered, George gave a respectful nod, returned his mirrored shades to his muzzle, and begins to leave the office. Once he reaches the office door, without turning, "Chief Bogo?"
"Yes?"
"Was that a vintage Greyhorn FS 446 on the computer screen on zBay? From before the great war?" George asked conversationally.
Slightly taken back at the unexpected question, Chief Bogo haltingly replies, "Yes…"
With a self satisfied nod, George simply says, "Exceedingly Rare. Good luck if you bid, Sir. And remember, complete confidentiality, please." The last was delivered with more emphasis, to drive the point home. Placing his fedora atop his head, he lets himself out before Bogo could respond.
Bogo, both annoyed and surprised, sat brooding at the screen containing the desired SUV. The solid construction and simplicity of steel...
"Steel." He murmured. "That's what else his voice had in it. Solid, quiet steel."