Vulpecula Noel fidgeted with the fur on his chin, stepping out of his cramped hotel room for the first time in what felt like a century. He looked up at the bright, roaring sunshine overhead, feeling the warmth hit his fur and make the green scarf nestled around his neck feel redundant.
At long last, a stillness befell the winds, and a settled, lukewarm temperature brushed up against the fur of each civilian as they roamed the streets of Acera. For all the scrutiny they were subjected to, the meteorologists yelled to the skies that this would mark the end of Acera’s frivolous weather patterns, and that prediction proved to be right as rain (or the lack thereof). It was unfortunate that it took them failing five earlier predictions to finally get it right.
Although his colleagues Apus and Lacerta nor anyone else with a passing knowledge of The Fox Detective would ever accuse him of being particularly outdoorsy, he welcomed the settled, calm weather with open arms. The idea that all the bad weather was, at long last, behind them, was a delusion of grandeur he was willing to get behind. He had withered by the weather and its inconsistencies, with the heavens being unable to decide between attacking the city with rain, heavy winds, or outright snowfall. Who was up there at the reins, he wondered, with it beginning to feel as though God was unaccounted for. Needless to say, he welcomed the sense of normalcy that conventional summer weather brought with it.
He stepped forward, perusing the streets of North Rites with a newfound pep in his step, poking his walking stick into every nearby puddle, regardless of whether it was in his path or not. It was a discourteous act that didn’t appear to sit well with his lizard friend Lacerta, who sometimes found himself in the cross hairs of each puddle’s splash. Lacerta glared at Vulpecula, an act that made him relent.
Like a little fox in a candy store, Vulpecula was unable to help himself, because, above all else, what Vulpecula wanted was to return to work on his cases and that could only happen if the weather behaved itself. Vulpecula was largely considered a rookie when it came to his detective work – with the ‘detective’ title in and of itself unofficial and, frankly, unearned (but The Fox Private Investigator simply didn’t have the same ring to it when he was written about in The Rescue Tribune). Regardless, it was rarely difficult for him to find clientele, with his father Hensley Noel being held in high regard in Acera and the greater Maharris. Animals lined up to bring Vulpecula and his friends in to help them solve whatever mystery they’d run into.
Most of it was vanity for vanity’s sake. Haunted houses that weren’t, in fact, haunted. Creaks and bumps that were actually old houses settling and mysterious specters that were actually old men trying to spook children into staying off their property (they would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for the meddling lizard and owl, and their stupid fox). Some of them were even more disappointing – with fans of Hensley Noel either looking at it as an opportunity for a photo op or to have Vulpecula appear on their podcast. Vulpecula didn’t care for these particular cases, both longing to stay out of the public eye as much as he could while also realizing its importance in allowing him to do what he did – a double-edged sword, he supposed.
What he had to realize, however, is that much like the rest of Acera, criminals didn’t like to leave the house in bad weather either. Which meant no crimes were being committed, which meant no cases to be solved. It was another of those double-edged swords.
There was something to be said for the thinkers that did their work inside of small cubicles or little, teensy-weensy bedrooms, but Vulpecula wasn’t among those list of thinkers. He was a special type of thinker – carrying a blank chalkboard inside his mind, a crude euphemism for his equally crude photographic memory. The best thing about his blank chalkboard? Unlike a computer at a desk, his chalkboard was completely portable. This was essential, because if there was one thing Vulpecula couldn’t do very well, it was sit still.
Thankfully for him, he didn’t have to, because the sun was once again ready to shine upon them and, as luck would have it, he had also been welcomed with a new case.
“Everything feels so much merrier now, doesn’t it? It’s funny but one really does feel happier in the summertime,” Vulpecula said, beholding the great outdoors with a newfound optimism that perplexed his colleagues.
As a nearby vehicle drove forward, ignoring the white pedestrian’s crossing sign in favor of his own convenience. Vulpecula smiled and waved him off, brushing off the driver’s casual murder attempt and taking it in stride. Oh, how he loved people. Today, at least. Thankfully, for the most part, there was never too much traffic in Acera; it was, after all, the smallest of the five major cities in Maharris, with the North Rites district also being relatively small in scale.
“The whole town really got wrecked, didn’t it?” Apus said.
Lacerta nodded. “I heard the hotel clerk talking, apparently some peoples’ houses got destroyed by the floods, cars totaled, yards filled with debris, the whole twenty-seven feet.”
“I can’t imagine what those people are going through. I heard Rescue was sending out food trucks for people, trying to scavenge up volunteers to clean up the city.”
Vulpecula stared down at the sidewalk in front of him, noticing all the cracks and crevices, while, at the same time, trying to approximate how much further they still needed to go.
“It all happened so late at night, too. Imagine waking up and feeling like your whole life was ruined?”
“Let’s hope the people worst affected will have some good insurance.”
“For whatever good that’ll do. You see, Apus, that’s the beauty of insurance – is that, when you have it, you actually don’t.”
Vulpecula could hear the clash in cadence between both Apus and Lacerta’s inflection, one sought to see what was right in the world and the other had a more cynical outlook. Whichever was right or not, Vulpecula’s mind was too preoccupied with his own fairs to pay any mind to what they were talking about. And so, instead, he spoke with urgency: “Where is this McKinley Halls and are we getting anywhere closer to it?”
Apus peered at his phone, tapping his talons against the screen to zoom in on the map he had pulled up. “It won’t be very much longer now.”
Lacera chuckled, “On edge a little bit, V? We’ve only been walking for, maybe, a minute or two.”
“I just want to do … something,” Vulpecula mumbled beneath his breath. “Idle hands and such.”
Right paw, left paw, right paw, left paw, … Vulpecula took a moment to appreciate the way all their footsteps had become synchronized, then, maybe a conscious decision to quicken his pace to see if they would follow suit. Lacerta wasn’t wrong to think Vulpecula was on edge. There was no denying he was feeling a little bit antsy, wanting so desperately to have something to sink his teeth into.
“Apus, …,” Vulpecula began, his mouth speaking before his mind knew what it planned to say. “You received this email from Eric Leon, correct?” Vulpecula stopped, and then, continued speaking again, unwilling to wait for an answer. “Eric Leon messaged us last night at eleven o’clock at night and said, as follows, excluding formal salutations:: ‘I am writing this because I know that Vulpecula has proven dignified in his short tenure dealing with unknown mysteries. Colleagues of mine have recommended you repeatedly. While I have only read what the newspapers will share with me, I believe that you will likely find this to be among the strangest cases that you have ever experienced. The sensitivity of this case is all too noteworthy to discuss the contents of in a message over the internet.’ Then, of course, it is followed by the closest remarks, as well as information about McKinley Halls, is that correct?”
“Amazing,” Apus started, prepared to offer Vulpecula praise for his prowess for recollection.
Ever since they met, Apus was always able to see the best in The Fox Detective, calling brilliance what others called crazed irregularities and social ineptness. Apus’ friendship was one of the best things to ever arrive gift wrapped at Vulpecula’s doorstep. Unfortunately, Lacerta interrupted him before Apus could pile on the praise. It was for the best. Vulpecula had chosen to intentionally omit the parts of the letter where ‘real‘ law enforcement were too preoccupied with current affairs to give Eric Leon’s predicament the time of day.
“You can remember, word for word, something that Apus read out loud to us a day ago, but can’t name the mayor of Acera, a place where you have lived for all of your life?” Lacerta shot Vulpecula a look of disbelief, and not in the dumbfounded, impressed way Vulpecula would have liked.
“To tell you the truth, Lacerta, I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast before we left.”
It was true, Vulpecula had the memory of an elephant, but, not just any elephant, for that would be bigoted against elephants, the elephant of Vulpecula’s mind had long since been dead. That is, of course, except for anything he etched into his blank chalkboard. The chalkboard was for important things. Things that mattered. Whoever called themselves the mayor of Acera wasn’t among what he would call important.
“I believe the Rescue Tribune has written a small piece about Eric Leon’s predicament. It’s a pity though, that they haven’t been shipped out yet. The early bird may catch the worm, but they still have to wait for the post office like everybody else, I’m afraid,” Apus said.
“So, we’re going in blind, as I’d prefer. I would rather not have myself tainted by whatever propaganda The Rescue Tribune has inked and had the audacity to call journalism,” Vulpecula replied, unable and, more accurately, unwilling, to hide his disdain for the organization. His father’s organization.
“I know you have a bone to pick, but The Rescue Tribune is about the only reason anyone brings us on for these investigations. They did a full-page article about the alien abduction story, everybody we ever help out tells us they found us because they read that story,” Lacerta said.
“The ‘alien abduction’ story was a bunch of nonsense hysteria from a nonsense district, mistaking kids playing hide and seek for being picked up by an alien aircraft. The Rescue Tribune knew that when they printed it. They have the courtesy of trying to hide it, but the Rescue Tribune is filled with the same type of propaganda as the newspapers printed by the Canes Vinatici were – an us versus them mentality.”
“I think that might be a little bit of a stretch.”
Vulpecula looked at Lacerta, but said nothing. The Canes Vinatici was an organization led by dogs throughout Maharris that advocated for the supremacy of itself and the suppression of anybody who dared to stand against it. It was a regime that went on for decades, resulting in innumerable casualties and heart-ache that sent ripples throughout the greater Maharris that was still felt today. It was only after resistances, like the aforementioned Rescue group, that The Canes Vinatici fell from power and a more balanced status quo was restored – one that generally saw puppies paying for the sins of the dogs that came before them.
“Maybe,” Vulpecula said, once more fidgeting with the fur on his chin. “Then again, maybe not.”
* * *
They arrived at McKinley Halls some time later, with Apus and Lacerta preoccupying themselves with their company and Vulpecula trying to fan the flames of his own unease. As they arrived, both Apus and Lacerta marveled at the spectacle the building brought with it. It was a large theater, one that was far nicer than anything one could ever expect to see in the North Rites district (they had crossed district lines, welcoming themselves to Acera’s larger, more pristine and busy Mulan district). There was a large sign at the top of the building that said ‘McKinley Halls’ in big, gold lettering with a heavy font and red outline behind a green backdrop. Beside the logo was a statuesque depiction of a human sitting in a director’s chair eating from a classical red-and-white striped bag of popcorn. Although he wasn’t taken by the theaters’ gaudy aesthetic the same way as his colleagues, Vulpecula couldn’t help but find some amusement at the idea of a human of all things sitting in a chair and watching a movie. Vulpecula beheld the large sign in front of the building.
Welcome to McKinley Halls Theater!
Home of the Magnets!
We are Currently Closed.
Although The Fox Detective knew very little about the theater itself, he had at least heard of the Magnets in passing. They were a traveling troupe of stage performers made up exclusively of Acera-born performers. The troupe took part in many different forms of entertainment, never subscribing themselves to one particular specialty, and, in fact, rebelled against their own comfort. Everything Vulpecula had ever learned about the Magnets had been unintentional, but their outreach couldn’t be denied. They specialized in performances that could best be described as over-the-top, excessive, and bizarre, oftentimes using the spectacle of shock value as a way to go viral online and sell tickets. As the sign would suggest, McKinley Halls Theater was where they preferred to perform most.
Vulpecula stepped past the sign and began toward the front entrance, hoping not to be thwarted by the rattling of a locked door. To his good fortune, before he could, they were welcomed by a doorman wearing an overcoat and a top hat, an old fashioned ensemble clearly meant to fit the general ‘theme’ of the establishment. The suited penguin quietly let them into the building, informing them that they were expected.
Soon after, they were introduced to a unique-looking (a generous description) and small stature fellow with a rather eccentric outfit. He wore lavender dance shoes with a sparkling silver embroidered on the laces. He also wore an elegant bright-red coat that had buttons and emblems scattered about, giving him the look of somebody of royalty. His leggings complimented the coat nicely in color, but up close, Vulpecula could see for certain that they were spandex, meant for easy maneuvering. No doubt, Vulpecula was easily able to assume that he was in the presence of an actor (‘actor’ being pronounced with their arm outstretched as ‘ac-tor’). Upon further inspection of his facial features; the puffy and red, blood shot eyes emphasizing his lack of sleep, an unkempt mane, and the fact his boat was messily unbuttoned, Vulpecula realized that this lion went by the name of Eric Leon, the very same who had emailed Apus asking for their services.
The fact that the doorman introduced him as Eric Leon may have also helped Vulpecula in making this assessment.
“Welcome,” Eric said in a raspy voice, “I am happy that all three of you could come.”
Eric Leon’s words, at face value, seemed upbeat and optimistic, however, his voice indicated that he was feeling anything except for happiness.
“I don’t suppose that I offer you anything before we start, a refreshment of some kind, or, uh, …,” Eric stammered, looking around himself like he would stumble upon some other hidden delicacy to offer them.
“I would be happy if we could go ahead and jump into what you need help with,” Vulpecula answered coolly, doing his best to both express his urgency and remember his manners, which could sometimes become misplaced when he wasn’t careful.
“Very well then. I suppose that we should make our way to the stage before we begin, I have no doubts that the scene will be invaluable to you.”
Eric Leon turned his back to them and began to lead the way – the inside of the building having all the traits of a commonplace theater with some added eccentricities and flourishes. There was a ticket booth as he entered, then, a counter for concessions to his right, meant to sell food and refreshments. To his left, there were framed, back lit posters on the wall for several different plays they had on the docket. Some of them had dates for when the shows were and some of them had little ribbons pinned on them with the names of awards that they had had bestowed on them.
At last, as they continued following the distraught lion, the rows of posters came to an end, and instead, they were met by doors with numbers on them, each leading to a different theater two watch a different show being performed.
“So, what exactly is this all about?” Lacerta asked rather abruptly.
Vulpecula appreciated this, if only because it got things moving and kept him from having to think of a polite way to ask the very same thing. Their eyes went to Eric Leon. Eric didn’t stop to answer, not until after he opened one of the doors, this one had a big, red number ‘3’ written on the top of it. He walked inside and ushered them in to do the same. Vulpecula, Lacerta, and Apus complied, stepping inside and beholding the theater in all its majesty. It wasn’t an enormous venue – when they were walking, Vulpecula made careful note that the first numbered door also had white text beneath it that read ‘Main Stage’. That would seem to imply this was a smaller, less prestigious theater. This theater was capable of sitting a couple hundred theatergoers, at most. Between all the rows of chairs was a walkway leading to the stage which had a large, red curtain draped in front of it.
“Four days ago, three nights before I sent for your assistance, we were doing a play called The Blood Lane Starlet. Now, I needn’t go in depths about the play’s contents, but I will tell you that the lead part went to a female by the name of Molly Louise, a snow leopard that played the role of the starlet in her rise to fame.” Eric Leon stopped momentarily, as if anticipating that he was about to become emotional. “She was kidnapped before the end of the self act.”
“So, you’re saying that somebody came in and took her from the dressing room or something? Were there any witnesses?” Lacerta asked.
Eric Leon started to speak, and then, stopped for a moment, his voice cracking. “No, they kidnapped her during the play!”
Before, Vulpecula may have only been listening halfheartedly, fearful that he had been hoodwinked with another ‘I saw God in my toast this morning’ type story, but, now, as those words escaped from Leon’s lips, the lion now had his complete and undivided attention.
“Go on,” Vulpecula said at once, fidgeting with the fur on his chin and staring at Eric Leon intently.
“While we were doing one of the scenes, she stepped over one of the stages’ trap doors and it was abruptly triggered. There was no scene in the play that called for the trap door, and so, obviously, this should not have happened. The audience was bewildered and confused, and rightfully so, as Molly Louis’ vanished out of sight in the midst of her character’s closing monologue, and are actors were taken aghast by it as well – still, it would be right to say that none of us were in a frenzied panic. The audience thought it was nothing more than part of the act, whereas the performers thought it was a flub by the crew. They lock the trapdoor whenever it is not being used, so these kinds of things don’t happen, but, even still, it didn’t seem like a big deal. Molly would fall safely on a cushion, laugh it off, and we would all carry on with the show as planned, but, then, she didn’t come back.”
Vulpecula felt his mouth water that the prospect before him, but he didn’t think too much about why that may have been. What it meant, most of all, was that he had a kidnapping to solve! It may as well have been his birthday with the gift Eric Leon had brought him, and although he managed to refrain from breaking out in song, he did find his foot tapping to the beat of his own enthusiasm. Eric Leon seemed unperturbed by this, but Apus poked at Vulpecula with one of his talons to express his dislike for the gesture. Don’t get excited for other peoples’ kidnappings, he thought to himself. It was advice to live by, after all.
“Did you conduct a search for her?” Apus asked.
It was a question with an obvious answer and yet, it was simply procedural to ask it. Clearly, Eric Leon wouldn’t have bothered asking for their help if he hadn’t exhausted every other option available to him. Perhaps, as a kindness, Eric Leon didn’t say as much to Apus, and simply offered a nod as an answer. Then, Eric Leon continued: “We contacted the police, but they weren’t able to find anything to go on. They are doing searches and say they are following up on any potential lead they can find. They promise that they will find her, but I just felt like there was more that I could be doing to help than what I was.”
Eric Leon sauntered over to a row of steps that led up to the stage and disappeared, momentarily, behind the curtains. In the meantime, Vulpecula himself fidgeting with one of the theater chairs, rocking it back and forth for no reason at all whatsoever other than to satiate his own restlessness. Seconds later, Eric Leon returned once more by opening the curtains by yanking on a braided rope.
“And that’s why I came to you guys for help.”
“What was your relationship with Molly Louise?” Vulpecula asked.
“She was my partner.”
“Your partner?”
“Yes.”
Vulpecula may not have been the best at reading facial cues, but, even he was able to read between the lines on what Eric Leon meant by partner and also infer why the puffy-eyed lion appeared to be single-handedly leading the charge for her safe return.
“And does your partner have a family?”
“Yes.”
“And where is that family?”
“I haven’t heard from them.”
“And why is that? Surely, a family would have something to say about a missing family member, … or am I wrong about that?”
Eric Leon hesitated for a moment, but, then, he spoke: “She never really spoke about them very much. I guess, to understand it, you really have to know Molly Louise. It’s kind of why she is such a talented stage performer, she doesn’t carry any baggage with her. This lifestyle fits her like a glove, and I mean, we would always talk about her one day being able to join the Magnets. They say that it’s like a big family with them, and it just seemed like a good way to get away from it all.”
“This building is home of the Magnets, is it not? Are you a member of the troupe?”
Eric Leon shook his head. “It isn’t that easy to join their group. Unless you are something special, people will spend years trying to even get an audition for them, much less join. Someday though. Maybe.”
“Molly Louise has no ties whatsoever with her family?”
“Correct,” Eric Leon answered simply before elaborating. “She is from Hardan. That is where her folks are. From what I understand, she hasn’t spoken with any of them in several years.”
With every word Eric Leon let escape, Vulpecula soaked in the man, learning more and more about him every second. His disposition carried a certain eloquence and poise, but it wasn’t enough to hide his roots. He looked and talked like a showman and did everything he could to sell The Fox Detective on that fast, however, in his scruffy, scrambled composure, he let more of himself out than he thought. Eric Leon was an Acera native. Vulpecula could see that well enough, however, it also came with a certain asterisk. He was from the country as they would say, for a reason Vulpecula didn’t actually know why. This by no means meant he was lacking eloquence or a lack of intelligence, but rather to say that he had an accent inherited from what many deemed to be the more ‘lowly’ parts of Acera and was making a conscious effort to hide it. Was this because of an insecurity he had of himself or was it a front he put on because he believed he’d be penalized in some way by the Magnets?
“You said that everyone was taken by surprise, but what steps were taken after everybody came to realize Molly’s disappearance? The police officers were here before us, did they share any of their discoveries with you?”
Eric Leon shook his head, “They didn’t do a whole, whole lot, unfortunately. They said that she hadn’t been missing long enough for it to be a proper missing persons’ case, and, you know, with the storm and all the wreckage that’s come with that, they said they’re stretched pretty thin.”
“Were there any witnesses? Anyone who may have seen anything suspicious?”
As Vulpecula spoke, he walked up the steps leading to the stage and welcomed himself at eye level with Eric Leon, albeit, not with proper eye contact. Instead, Vulpecula’s eyes looked down toward the trapdoor, head tilted like an old-school slasher villain.
“A man claimed that, while he was walking out of the theater, he saw a gentleman running outside to his car, as if trying to make a quick getaway. Alongside him was a female, who the man claims was Molly. He said that the man clutched her hand tightly and that she seemed to be afraid.”
“Can anyone corroborate these claims besides him? Is there any surveillance footage we can pull from?”
Eric Leon shook his head. “No surveillance footage, before now, we’d never needed it. No one else claims to have seen Molly Louise leave, which makes sense, given that most of them would have been in the theater at the time she would have been taken.” Eric Leon’s voice started to sound a little resentful and agitated but he regained his solemn cadence by the end.
“Did he see anything beyond that? Surely, whoever the person was she was allegedly walking with would be the key to finding her. What description did he provide for the man?”
“It was as simple as that,” Eric Leon answered plainly. “As he opened the door, beginning to leave the theater, having seen one of the other shows that McKinley Halls had been running that evening, some older man saw two people leaving the theater. To be as specific as possible, he said that the gentleman leading the way out was of a medium build, perhaps taller than average, wearing a leather trench coat and a black top hat. The man was described as aggressive, pulling her toward the vehicle while she acted both apprehensive and weary.”
Vulpecula nodded his head. “Who was the older man, what did he look like?”
Eric Leon looked at Vulpecula in confusion, but, answered, “He was a, uh, rhinoceros, normal size for such an animal, I guess. He wore glasses, I think.”
“And the man Molly Louise was walking with, you believe this man abducted her against her will?”
“I see no other explanation other than that. I think, for you to understand better, I should offer a little insight in what it’s like being a theater performer. The performing arts are a tough life, especially someplace that may not have the brightest lights like our district. If it wasn’t for the Magnets sometimes performing here and calling it their home, we would barely have enough business to get by. There is a lot of competition because there are only so many positions that can be filled. It is all about image and it is easy to make enemies without even noticing that you did it.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Vulpecula said honestly. “Thank you for your time, Eric Leon, but, for now, I must ask that you bid yourself adieu from us. I am sorry to say it, but, unlike you, I am up to the task much more when I don’t have an audience. I hope that I will be able to bring you new information very soon to your partner’s whereabouts.”
Eric Leon seemed disheartened by the request, but, to his credit, he obliged and left the trio alone to revel in their thoughts. Vulpecula didn’t say anything to either Apus or Lacerta, and they said nothing to him. Apus and Lacerta stood quietly, leaving Vulpecula to attempt to unravel the situation before them.
Eric Leon meant well, Vulpecula believed. Still, the idea that Molly Louise had been abducted straight from the stage was an unlikely event. Why would any criminal commit such a crime? There was simply too many dramatics and too much risk involved. The Fox Detective’s mind immediately considered the idea of extortion or blackmail, but that wouldn’t have explained why the kidnapper would commit themselves to such theatrics. Surely, it would have been easier to find Molly Louise sometime after the show and abduct her when there were less witnesses to call upon. For whatever reason, the criminal clearly wanted there to be showmanship and for a powerful message to be sent.
“Do you think it’s possible that Molly Louise was kidnapped?” Apus asked.
“It is possible, certainly, but, whether or not it’s plausible remains to be seen.”
“I thought I saw you biting your tongue while Eric was talking,” Apus said sharply, a small smirk somehow visible from his beak.
“He referred to the man that allegedly saw the kidnapper and Molly Louise leaving into the car as an older rhinoceros, an animal species known for their bad eyesight, who wore glasses, no less. Furthermore, consider how dark it would have been and how erratic the weather has been lately. The witness would have had their vision considerably obstructed by the pouring rain, coupled with the high likelihood that they already don’t have the best vision.” Vulpecula once more didn’t make eye contact with Apus or Lacerta; he continued to find himself transfixed on the trap door.
There was another thought bouncing around in Vulpecula’s head as well, one pertaining to the rhinoceros’ testimony. As defeated as it sounded, he wished that he had not let Eric Leon leave like he had, now finding himself with a new question he otherwise had no way of getting the answer to. Vulpecula descended the stairs, half his mind still drawn by the trapdoor itself, but the other half of him that took the reins knew he needed more information to, ahem, set the stage (a joke he kept for himself as an audience of one). Leaving Apus and Lacerta to further investigate the theater – which included Lacerta snapping photographs of every possible object, whether it was the stage itself or the fancy, sparkly chandelier over their head (it wasn’t about evidence or clues, per se, but, rather, it was about having photographs to sell to The Rescue Tribune or for their website – a gaudy, but, alas, important part of why they were able to do the things they did).
The Fox Detective opened the large door, leading to concessions, his eyes surveying the area for the fancily-dressed lion. As he did, however, he found himself unable to spot him. He did, however, see the doorman.
“Pardon,” Vulpecula said, getting the penguin’s attention. “I don’t suppose you can tell me where to find Eric Leon? I had a couple of small questions to ask him before I returned to the investigation.”
The doorman shot him a peculiar look, “The investigation? That’s why you’re here? This is about Molly Louise?”
“Who else?” Vulpecula asked.
The penguin shrugged. “When Eric Leon told me his friend Vulpecula Noel was coming to look around the theater, I figured you were here because you were a theater buff or something. I didn’t realize you were going to conduct an ‘investigation’,” The doorman smirked, with the emphasis on Vulpecula’s last name and not his first making it clear he was familiar with his father’s work and not his.
Vulpecula bit his bottom lip and decided to pick his battles, everyone started somewhere, he supposed. “Can you tell me where I can find Eric Leon?”
Once more, the penguin shrugged: “Probably doing his job.”
“What, … you mean, rehearsing, or … ?”
The penguin chuckled, “I mean, he’s cleaning, I think he’s sprucing up the main theater.”
“Eric Leon’s a custodian?”
“A custodian,” The penguin laughed some more. “Trying to look important, are we? Guy’s not even a janitor. Janitors’ get paid. He’s like an intern. He cleans up and helps out with things, and, in return, they let him put on his little costumes and shadow the actors. Basically, in McKinley Halls, if you aren’t a Magnet, you aren’t nothing, and if you’re nothing, that means you’re probably a local stage actor for the Mulan district, and Eric Leon is somewhere below that.”
This time, Vulpecula wasn’t able to withhold his disappointment, letting out an audible sigh. It was remarkable how easily perception of something could change and a whole investigation could be unwound. This wasn’t Eric Leon giving Vulpecula the reins to lead an investigation. Eric Leon didn’t have the reins to pass off in the first place. This was an underpaid (in-fact, unpaid) employee asking a wannabe sleuth on the internet for his two cents before the theater opened to the public. Eric Leon didn’t maybe, exactly, lie, but he absolutely misled him. What else had he lied about, a voice in the back of Vulpecula’s mind whispered.
“Okay then, maybe you can help me. Eric Leon said that law enforcement had a witness that claims to have seen Molly Louise leaving the building after another play had just gotten let out. What time did the other play and where would that overlap with the time of The Blood Lane Starlet’s third act when Molly Louise went missing?” Vulpecula asked.
“I don’t know if I should reveal information involving an official investigation.”
“Trying to look important, are you? It’s simple math – you either tell me or I assume you can’t, and I find out myself.”
The doorman smiled again, but this was a different kind of smile. This was the kind of smile that came from someone with a freshly bruised ego. Vulpecula could empathize.
2.
The Fox Detective stood on the stage once more. Vulpecula closed his eyes and looked through the innermost confines of his mind, his blank chalkboard, as he called it in his mind. The chalkboard stared back at him, wrapped in vines, sprouted from the seeds of doubt planted in him by every naysayer. Beyond that, it was filled with all the notes and information he had taken in regarding the case. On the surface, he remained quiet. As a child, his Uncle Rockwell called this Vupecula ‘putting on his space helmet’, a euphemism for what he perceived as simple daydreaming. It was something more than that, however. At this moment, he could see everything. Sooner or later, the blank chalkboard would be erased, making way to keep new information, but, for now, he had it all.
In his head, he saw Eric Leon. All the movements that he made; every mannerism he had done during their conversation was accessible to him. What was the endgame for asking Vulpecula for his aid?
Out of his head, Vulpecula looked down at the trapdoor. The door was simple, unlike some other trapdoors that may have been lever activated, this one had a latch to unlock the trapdoor under the stage. Surely, more complicated, expensive theatrics were reserved for the main theater. What did this mean? The most obvious was that this had to be carefully deliberated. All it took was applying enough pressure and the trapdoor gave way, sending whoever triggered it down, beneath the stage. Anyone could have triggered it at any moment. The kidnapper would have had to have eyes on the stage to know when Molly Louise was in position or, at the very least, have the timing down to know when the rest of the performer’s had no chance of sabotaging their plan.
“Did you hear me,” Lacerta called out, snapping his fingers in front of Vulpecula’s eyes, trying to get his attention. “Did you hear what I said?” He asked again, uncertain if he was getting through.
“Not a word,” Vulpecula answered honestly.
Lacerta sighed. “I said … do you believe that we should just throw out the witness’ account since there is a chance the rhinoceros couldn’t have Molly Louise and her abductor?”
“No,” Vulpecula said, shaking his head. “It’s a variable, for certain, but I think the witness testimony is a very important part whether they saw Molly Louise or not.”
Vulpecula looked around at the stage, appreciating the scenery. There were props strewn about, background decorations such as trees that enshrouded themselves around a makeshift fire escape – the trees serving the purpose of hiding the wheels used to lug the fire escape from place to place. There were sandbags and pulleys and other things that Vulpecula understood the general purpose of, but appeared foreign to him in the context of how they worked to create the overall presentation. He eventually brought himself to Stage Right (one of the few insider terms Vulpecula knew of – basically, it meant, ahem, the right of the stage) and looked at a white prop wall with red paw prints speared across it, meant to resemble blood.
As he went down the stairs leading to the backstage, he opened a door and was then able to behold the area dedicated to makeup. It looked the way he had always imagined it in his head, with a row of five empty stools, each in front of small tables with mirrors outlined by large light bulbs. On the side closest, facing the theater, there were racks with clothing, out-of-place ladders (a clear violation that Vulpecula would leave ‘The Fox Safety Coordinator’ to cite), and pieces of plywood. The opposite side had doors clearly designated as fitting rooms. Finally, however, Vulpecula found the room he was looking for – a small, red push and pull plate door with a sign at the top that spelled out its purpose: “Storage”.
He opened the door and, true to its word, there were plenty of boxes and props stored away, collecting dust. It wasn’t the most aesthetically appeasing room. There’d be no ‘behind the scene tour’ videos showing off the loose nails that poked through the ceiling and ‘do it yourself’ support beams that were scattered around the area. In the greater Maharris, Urgway was considered the poorest of the poor, the worst place to live altogether, riddled with crime and bad living conditions. At this moment, Vulpecula couldn’t help but wonder what horrors Urgway could truly have if this was considered one of the nicer districts of Acera.
His eyes searched the room, not looking for anything in particular, but also looking for exactly what he needed. He walked over to the cushion lying in the middle of the room. In a choice that felt, almost poetic, the cushion was a scarlet red color. Above him, he could see the bottom of the trapdoor as well as the latch that looked it in place.
What would she have imagined at this moment? The Fox Detective did his best to place her in his shoes. He imagined himself on the stage. Stepping around, an uproarious audience watching on. The doorman may have been a lot of things, and a lot of those things may not have been good, but one thing he had also been was helpful and informative. This was Molly Louis’ time to shine! This was the first time she was front and center as the lead in a play at McKinley Hall and The Blood Lane Starlet was exactly the kind of play for an actor to prove themselves to her audience. To her audience? To the Magnets, Vulpecula thought again. If you aren’t part of the Magnets, you’re nothing. This was her chance to get their attention. Of course, even then, she’d have trouble being accepted, Vulpecula thought. Why did he think that? Eric Leon had claimed she was a native of Hardan. That was directly against the rules for entry into the Magnets – an Acera-only troupe.
Unless she could do something to force the issue, he supposed. Like faking her kidnapping? Or maybe not. Vulpecula tried to imagine it as though she hadn’t. That she felt astonishment as the trapdoor fell beneath her feet. This wasn’t in the script, … but then, what? She walked out from the dressing room and no one saw anything at all? No one saw The Blood Lane Starlet herself fleeing out of the theater? No one except for a single rhinoceros? Why did she let herself be kidnapped by the older gentleman? She wasn’t incapacitated. She left on her own accord. Was there a gun to her back? Was this extortion or blackmail?
Vulpecula didn’t have enough information to have an answer yet. He imagined what Molly would have seen the moment the floor fell from beneath her. Either she was expectant of it or disoriented by it, that all depended on if this was a grand illusion or an actual kidnapping. Where would she have gone next? At first, The Fox Detective looked at the door he had come in from. That couldn’t have been it. Surely, the moment Molly Louise fell, members of the production crew would be scurrying to retrieve her. The idea that none of them saw her meant that door was not an option. His eyes surveyed the area in search of an alternative way out, and, he found it. The small door stared back at him with a proposed answer to the case spelled out for him in blunt lettering: Maintenance.
3.
“So, you’re saying you believe that Eric Leon was in cahoots with Molly Louise and helped stage her kidnapping?” Apus asked.
Lacerta chuckled, clearly finding some amusement in a ‘staged kidnapping’ happening on a stage.
“I am,” Vulpecula said, stopping for a moment, “Not saying that?” The Fox Detective answered, not originally planning to end his sentence with a question mark.
“That doesn’t sound very confident.”
“Why would Eric Leon ask for our help if he was the one who instigated the crime in the first place?” Lacerta asked.
“Because he underestimated us, he didn’t think we’d find anything because the police didn’t but also didn’t want to look like he was hiding anything either,” Apus said.
Vulpecula fidgeted with the fur on his chin. “Everything we do gets reported to The Rescue Tribune. Every case we solve gets put on Lacerta’s website and stirs up conversation. If this was all a giant ploy to bring eyes to Molly Louise and get her accepted into the Magnets, then it makes sense they’d call on us to add a little more publicity to the affair.”
“So, you are saying Eric Leon asked for our help because he thought we’d bring more eyes to the case?” Apus asked.
“I,” Vulpecula hesitated again, “Am saying that. But I am not ready to say it was for the same reason we’re thinking.”
“What?” Lacerta asked, clearly confused.
“I don’t think Eric Leon’s worry is fake,” The Fox confessed. “I don’t think he could fake that.”
“He’s an actor.”
“Perhaps, but not a good one. The penguin upfront claimed there is a hierarchy and that Eric Leon was, more or less, at the bottom of the heap.”
“The only other possible exit from the bottom of the stage was the maintenance room, it would have offered a straight shot from backstage to the main lobby. Eric Leon could have easily been waiting for Molly Louise and then helped her make her clean getaway.” Lacerta argued.
“The witness claims to have seen her walking out from the lobby with an older gentleman,” Vulpecula said plainly, awaiting the holes to be poked in the statement.
“And you said it yourself that a rhinoceros contending with bad weather and bad eyesight is a tough sell.”
“Perhaps so, but Eric Leon also has an alibi. I spoke to the doorman about the rhinoceros. When the trapdoor fell through, leading to Molly Louis’ disappearance, that would have been about half an hour before the end of the Blood Lane Starlet and about fifteen minutes before the end of the play said rhinoceros had attended. That tells us two things. One is that the rhinoceros would have seen Molly Louise walking out in an otherwise empty lobby, meaning that our witness and his weak bladder would have had a clear shot of Molly Louise leaving the building. The second is that Eric Leon was present and accounted for to help clean the theater after the next play was let out.”
“So, you think Eric Leon wasn’t involved? That it was Molly Louise and, what, a member of the Magnets?”
“I believe that Eric Leon was involved,” Vulpecula said, then, added: “But not directly. When I was a young boy, I remember I would sometimes be babysat by Vivian Herms, believe it or not.”
“Sounds awful,” Lacerta fired back.
A small smile broke on Vulpecula’s face. Vivian Herms was his father’s right-hand, a stoic, serious-natured woman who now called the shots as the leader of the Rescue organization. “As you can probably guess, there weren’t exactly a lot of toys to play with or things to occupy a small child’s mind in her office. There was, however, a small nest-egg doll I remember sat at the front of her desk. It was a simple wooden toy shaped like a bowling pin and when you pulled it apart, a smaller version of the same toy was tucked inside. You open that one, and there was another, and so on and so forth.”
“I’m familiar.”
“At McKinley Halls, you are either a Magnet or you are nothing, and if you aren’t nothing, by the door man’s assessment, you must be Eric Leon.”
“Harsh.”
“And, untrue. Eric Leon was a contingency. Molly Louise knew she was going to disappear before her audiences’ eyes, but she couldn’t account for the storm to hit and everyone’s attention to be pulled elsewhere. She thought it would be breaking news and the media would run with it, but it simply wasn’t. In simpler times, the police would have overlooked their forty-eight hour rule and went straight to work, but they were simply too stretched thin to take on a case with nothing to go on. Her last ditch effort was Eric Leon. In Eric Leon’s email, he claimed that colleagues had recommended us to him repeatedly. Unfortunately, by the door man’s account, Eric Leon had only one colleague and that colleague would have had everything to gain from him knowing the one detective in Acera that hadn’t been caught up in the storm. When he saw no one was helping her, he followed his heart.” The Fox Detective explained.
“Then, what do we do now?” Lacerta asked.
“Nothing,” Vulpecula said honestly. “This is nothing more than a performance. Another case that went nowhere. When the police officers’ hands are freed, they’ll investigate further. When they do, they’ll find an answer, but, by then, all of the momentum and drama will have spilled out. Molly Louise won’t get what she wants and may very well miss out on her one chance to join the troupe.”
***
It wasn’t long until what Vulpecula said would happen, in fact, happened. He had kept his tabs on the investigation and had advised Eric Leon to inform him of any new developments. The last thing he wanted was to have gotten it wrong, so it was a relief to see that he hadn’t. By the time the forty-eights hours expired, allowing the Mulan districts’ police department to officially call it a missing persons’ case, all of the air had been let out from the fiasco. Without even as much as a two-bit detectives’ two cents on the case, that added up to a one-two punch on any hopes Molly Louis had at becoming a viral sensation. Then, in a week’s time, since Molly Louis clearly wasn’t about to become the overnight starlet the Magnets’ expected, but still needed money to live, she returned, pretending like nothing had happened.
As one could imagine, McKinley Halls wasn’t too thrilled about their main-actress disappearing in the middle of a stage production, and she was demoted – in an ironic twist, she became the smallest doll in the nest-egg.
Vulpecula looked at the sky somberly.
“So, that’s it then?” A voice called out to Vulpecula, breaking him out of his little trance.
Eric Leon looked back at him, dressed in his usual theatrical ensemble. Vulpecula stared at the ‘Welcome to McKinley Halls’ sign. He wasn’t certain why he had returned, but the moment he saw Eric Leon, he felt like he had a good idea.
Vulpecula ignored the question, not really knowing the answer: “That’s an interesting suit, Eric. It looks a little like tiger fur. It’s strange to see on a lion. Strange, in a good way. Looks nice.”
“It’s faux fur,” Eric said a small twinge of enthusiasm escaping his otherwise melancholic disposition.
“I would hope so.”
“I had it specially imported from a place called Paw Prints, they specialize in the finest faux fur.”
“Very cool.”
After a small pause, Eric Leon finally asked the question their awkward small talk was leading to, the only reason Vulpecula would participate in small talk.
“Why didn’t she tell me, Vulpecula? What did I do wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything, Eric. Your only crime was being genuine and real.”
Eric Leon chuckled. “Being genuine doesn’t get you very far as an actor.”
“Maybe not, but it means everything to me.” Vulpecula said, letting a small smile show through. Below the sign, he observed a small listing of upcoming shows, finding Eric Leon’s name among the cast. V pointed his walking stick at the listing and looked back at him. “Break a leg, Eric.”
“Thanks.”
Vulpecula turned to make his leave, and, as he did, Eric spoke once more.
“You think it’s going to rain?” Eric Leon asked.
Vulpecula looked back at him, then, up toward the sky, “I think a storm’s coming.”
“Better buy an umbrella,” Eric said in jest.
“I think I’ll be okay.”
I’ve got my space helmet.
