Soft and Sweet and Intoxicating

[This story contains a scene of violence.]

Frank was against the wall for sure, now - literally.

“Heh, n-now now,” the charming businessman said as the knife was pressed against his neck. “Let’s not do anything ra-”

A large shadow on his still-trembling body and a pool of his blood stood still for a moment, then receded into the darkness.

Mr. Frank Smithers - a prominent local businessman - had been found dead in a back alley by a homeless man early Saturday morning, his throat cut with a knife. Within half an hour, two detectives from the Empire City Police Force homicide division had arrived at the scene.

Detective Skreet Snickertooth had risen through the ranks swiftly - much to the chagrin of his new partner. Skreet was part of the non-human police force that was starting to grow in Empire City - a rat to be precise - and he was determined to make a good impression.

Unfortunately, Skreet’s partner was not as determined.

“Alright you bums,” the large badger said to the patrol officers nearby. “Cordon off that part of the street there -this case is mine.”

“And mine, Luns,” Skreet said. “We’re partners, right? And... take it easy, huh?”

“A man’s dead, Snickertooth,” Luns shot back before sighing and rolling his eyes. Skreet had known Luns for a while, and suspected that the son of the wool importer magnate was responsible for the delay in his promotion.

Later, near noon, about six suspects were brought in - all with links to the deceased.

The first one was a human known as Ferdinand who had known links to the Mob - probably as a hitman, but it wasn’t clear.

“All right,” the badger said, walking back and forth in the back of the interrogation room. “I missed lunch for this, so I’m in a pretty shitty mood. Where were you, two A.M.?”

“Look paly, I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. But I ain’t never offed that guy.”

Skreet stepped forward. “You were picked up an hour later a block away, Ferdinand.”

“Blood all over the place!” Luns jumped in. Skreet sighed as Luns continued. “Slit his throat wide open!” 

The human thought about it for a second. “I’m n- My organization’s not messy. Cap em in the back of the head with a silenced .22 pistol. Two in the dome. Quick and efficient.”

“You expect us to believe that, human?” Luns shot back.

“Listen, listen, listen,” Ferdinand said leaning back, taking control of the conversation. “I’ve told you all I know.”

Skreet thought about it. The hitman made a good point: it probably was not done by a ‘professional.’

Luns growled. “Why don’t you cool your heels in here for a bit longer, ‘paly,’” Luns said as he and Skreet left.

Outside, the two regarded one another. Luns spoke first. “You really think that killer for hire didn’t do it Skreet? Come on, rat!”

Skreet considered it. “We can put him away for something else I’m sure, but let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, there was another arrested not far from the murder scene and with quite a bit of blood on him.”

Luns scowled. “Luther ‘the Mangler’ Watson. That’s Feltwell’s case, but he might like a break from that psychopath.”

It took a while to get access to the prison where Luther was being held, and a bit longer to drive there. The next day though, the two did arrive at the huge, century-old, fortress-turned-prison.

“I’m flattered officers, I really am,” the tiger said as he prowled his cell. “I’ve killed over fifteen in the state now. As I’ve said, killing releases a primal level of serotonin. Society has blinded us all to the truth of the predators we actually are... But I did not kill Smithers. A knife, you said? I use my claws.”

The two walked back to their prowler. 

“I say he did it, rat,” Luns said as he took shotgun.

Skreet seemed doubtful as the engine turned over. “To me this seemed to be a crime of passion, Luns. The butcher’s stroke, the look of surprise and betrayal... I think Smithers knew his murderer... But who knew Smithers?”

~

“Honey, this meatloaf is delicious but I’m gonna have to run,” Frank said, taking his napkin out of his collar.

Seline was shocked. “Frank, I thought we could go to the movies tonight. You know, like we used to?”

Frank stood up and put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. She nuzzled it sadly. “I’m sorry baby, but how else am I supposed to keep you in those fur coats?”

A little tear landed on his warm hand. “I don’t care about that! Please just stay?”

Frank smiled as he wiped away a tear. “I’ll get you a nice diamond necklace. You like those, don’t you baby?”

Seline smiled faintly and nodded as he put on his overcoat and headed into the evening. She threw herself onto their wedding bed on the top floor of their mansion and wept as though her heart would break.

At the office in his large leather chair, Frank cradled his scantily-clad vixen in his arms as her long brush wrapped around him.

“What do you and Clyde think of my proposal?” Katrina cooed.

Frank chuckled and squeezed his fluffy companion. “We’ll see,” he said, condescendingly, booping her nose.

Frank’s human wife’s perfume and meatloaf attacked Katrina’s nostrils.

“You’re still having dinner with that... woman?” Katrina asked, hurt. Frank squeezed her close, petting her fluffy face.

“You’re all that matters to me, my vixen,” he said soothingly.

Katrina clicked her long tongue. “What about us? And what do you think of my business proposal? It’s not too much is it?”

“Clyde’s still looking, honey-bu... honey-fox!”

That’s when they both saw the shadow on the other side of the door. Frank hissed. “Katrina, hide!”

Jangle, jangle, jangle. Click, click.

Clyde Carradine - Frank’s business associate - turned on the light to find Frank at his desk, writing notes. There was an intoxicating smell in the air. Clyde stroked his dwarvish beard.

“Hello Frank,” he said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Oh, Clyde, hey there.”

The dwarf walked over to the human’s desk. “I see you’re at work late again.” 

~

“Was Frank often at work late?” Skreet asked as Luns loomed in the background of their eighth story office. The dwarf’s office was laden with ancient weapons, shields, and forge tools. For all the armaments, Skreet noticed a tiny whiff of a sweet smell in the air.

“Not too often. I could smell his ‘friend’s’ perfume in the air, though.”

“His friend?”

“That vixen of his. Katrina Darlencois.” 

Luns slammed his big paw on the desk. “Is she the slutty secretary?”

Clyde recoiled. “N-well, she helps around the... She’s the executive assistant, if that’s what you mean. She helps with the larger projects.”

Luns stepped back and rolled his eyes at the term ‘executive assistant’. “This ‘womens’ lib’ has gone too far, I think,” the badger said, disappearing into the darker corner of the office. Skreet ignored him.

“Do you know her well?”

Clyde shifted in his seat. “I know her as a colleague i-if that’s what you mean... But if anyone hurt Frank, she’s the one.”

“Why do you think so?” Skreet asked calmly.

Clyde licked his bearded lip and stood up hastily. “She’s always causing trouble!” he spat. “She was angry at Frank for turning down a business deal she had in mind and... and she was a hussy, just as your partner said!”

Luns stepped back out of the shadows, a long sneer on his muzzle.

“I see,” Skreet said. Clyde gave a few more details, which Skreet jotted down. With each sordid detail, Luns leered farther and farther into the discussion. Eventually, the dwarf had plunged the depths of his soul and poured it onto the rat detective’s notebook. Skreet breathed out slow and wiped his brow.

“Too much for you, rat?” Skreet’s indescreet partner asked as they headed back to their car.

“I wish you’d be a professional Luns,” Skreet heaved. Luns laughed and slapped his partner hard on the back.

It was evening. Skreet held his hat in his claws and motioned for Luns to do the same. He strained and could hear soft footsteps somewhere inside the apartment before answering the door. Her bright green eye was just above the chain.

“Detective Snickertooth, ma’am,” Skreet said, holding his badge aloft. “A few questions, if that’s all right?”

The door closed. Kachunk. Rattle rattle... Then the door opened again. Katrina was in a bathrobe and gestured them inside.

“Would you gentlemen like anything to drink?”

“Nothing for me, miss Darlencois,” Skreet said.

“Do you have bourbon?” Luns asked. Katrina nodded. “If I could have some on the rocks, that’d be great.”

Skreet coughed after Luns got his drink. “If you’d like time to dress, that would be just fine.” Katrina smiled and nodded, heading back into her bedroom - her tail swishing side to side as she disappeared into the shadows.

Luns whistled. Skreet shook his head disapprovingly while studying the fox’s living arrangements. Katrina returned in a short summer dress and sat opposite them at her small, round dining table. That’s when an intoxicating smell hit Skreet’s delicate nostrils: a soft sweetness, somehow familiar. He shook his head and pulled out his trusty notebook.

“Katrina, thanks for meeting with us. Were you familiar with Frank Smithers?”

The vixen cocked her head to the side. “...Yeeessss? Has... has something happened to-”

Skreet leaned forward and gently took her paw, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Frank was found dead early yesterday morning.”

Immediately, Katrina gasped - tears in her eyes. Her long brush curled into a question mark. “Oh gods!” she said. “What-what happened?”

Luns took a swig of his drink then clinked it back onto the table. “That’s what we’re trying to find out, doll.”

“I... I loved him, officers. I know I’m the ‘other woman’ but I loved him. Oh please find out what happened!” She said, gently taking Skreet’s arm. She was very pretty and soft. Skreet gently extracted her paw from his coat, gulping.

“Katrina, did you have any... business dealings with Frank?”

The vixen leaned back gently and thought for a second. “I had a proposal, yes, but Clyde rejected it. Clyde Carradine? He was always jealous of Frank... And all those weapons in his office? I was always a little scared of him.”

Luns nodded slowly while Skreet considered. Skreet stood up while Luns greedily finished his drink and stood up alongside him. Katrina gently stood up, holding her paws together softly.

“Thank you, miss Darlencois,” Skreet said.

“Ma’am,” Luns said, grabbing the vixen’s paw and giving it a less-than-chivalrous kiss. “If you remember anything... anything at all... or if you just want to talk, here’s my card.”

On the metal staircase, Luns was having trouble finding his breath. Skreet was having trouble getting the sweet smell out of his nostrils.

The interrogation of Frank’s wife had to wait until the next day. The Smithers’ mansion was all the way on the North side of town. Seline had been notified and had already alerted her lawyers that there would be a questioning. This time, Luns drove - Skreet wasn’t sure why.

“I don’t trust this dame, Skreet,” Luns said as he swerved through busy midday traffic.

“She has the right to a lawyer just like anyone else, Luns.”

“-AND her name was in his life insurance policy AND his will?”

Skreet sighed and nodded. “I admit, it’s a little... suspicious.”

By the time the detectives had arrived, quite a few other officers had arrived as well. Skreet was the first into Frank’s former office where his widow was seated, surrounded by a gaggle of lawyers. Skreet tugged at his lapel.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Mrs. Smithers,” Skreet said delicately.

She nodded.

“This isn’t a formal inquest, by the way,” the rat continued. “There’s no need for...” he gestured at the lawyers in the dark room: mostly vampires, along with one raccoon.

Seline chuckled. “Go ahead and ask your questions, Detective Snickertooth.”

Skreet cleared his throat and shuffled his papers. Throughout the afternoon, most of his questions were met with, ‘our client is not obligated to answer that question.’ He had to get under her skin.

“Were you familiar with Frank’s assistant, Katrina Darlencois?”

“Our client-”

“YES!” Seline snarled. “Very familiar!”

“In what way?”

“Our client-”

“She’s the whore that stole my husband! And probably killed him!”

It was the first time Skreet had seen vampires blink. The raccoon was merely shaking his head. The other officers in the room had heard it, nice and plain.

“And why do you suspect that she killed your husband?”

“Ourclientisn’tobligatedto-!”

“Because of that business plan! The one Frank turned down!”

“I see,” Skreet said, standing up. It had been a long eight hours, but he had found a contradiction, along with a potential motive. He stood, thanked Mrs. Smithers, and made a few comments about “talking with her more later”. Luns was confused but followed anyway.

On his way out of the mansion’s large doors, he could detect the scent again: soft and sweet and intoxicating, just on the tip of existence before it faded away.

At the office he was congratulated by his supervisor and a round of drinks was bought for him. Luns, who had been there longer, was the butt of a few jokes - but the drinks rounded out the edges.

“Mr. Snickertooth, sir!” A patrolman said near the end of the party. He was a human, carrying a few photographs. “A steak knife in Mrs. Smither’s collection with a heavily-worn blade.”

Another hoorah rose from the ranks as Skreet was toasted again. The attorney general’s office was notified that night, and all of Skreet’s notes were collected.

After hours of partying, Skreet had gotten the next couple days off. As he laid his furry head on his pillow, an intoxicating, sweet smell of success seemed to surround him.