Slipping through her fingers

Danny grumbled as he held the digital camera in his hands. The old-school photographer and journalism major flipped it over and over in his hands like a jellyfish. “Amber, I’m still not used to this thing. I really don’t know how this is the future of photography.” 

The meerkat merely shook her head in response as they stepped out onto the well-maintained lawn of the ‘Historic Varunkirk Mansion’: home of the Varunkirk Historical society. The manor itself loomed before them as other tourists were lining up for the guided tour. 

“Almost forgot,” Amber said as she ducked back into the car and slipped a leash and collar on. The mayor had recently passed a city ordinance demanding all beastials be leashed. Even though that part of North Carolina was fairly liberal - it wasn’t that liberal. 

But Amber had found a loophole. 

She held her own leash. That blowhard was soon going to feel the wrath of the press. But Amber had other priorities at the moment. 

“Sorry about that Amber,” Danny said, half-conciliatory... half-intrigued. Amber rolled her eyes.

“Don’t mention it.”

“I-”

“DON’T... mention it.”

This whole madcap adventure had started with Danny developing a photo he’d never taken of a locker in the bus station. He and Amber felt the need to investigate and found a mummified hand with six fingers within. That object had changed everything. It was a clue to a decades-long mystery involving the murder of a matriarch of the city: Theodora Varunkirk, descendent of the town’s founders. The two journalism students had only just begun to grasp what kind of mystery they were on, so a trip to the historic home was in order to find some answers. 

The smiling tourguide greeted the human guests with a wave. Amber was short enough to evade the tourgide’s gaze, but still made herself as inconspicuous as possible. 

“Hello everyone, my name is Tiffany...”

“Figures,” Amber said under her breath to Danny.

“...And welcome to Varunkirk Manor. First constructed in 1786, it was the largest non-plantation mansion in the American South...”

Amber encouraged Danny to take photographs as much as he could to get a feel for the digital camera. As they climbed the large main staircase they saw a giant portrait of the first mayor of Varunkirk, along with - ascending the right staircase - all the subsequent mayors until the last with the name Varunkirk. While the tourgroup headed up to the right, Amber slinked off to the left. Danny tried not to watch her vanish into the dark - which was easy: as soon as he noticed that his intrepid editor was not beside him, she was gone.

Danny was not naturally a detective, but he had learned a few things from Amber.

“Don’t look like you’re interesting,” was one of the first things Amber had ever said to him: within only six hours of meeting him. On his first assignment. Per his first lesson, Danny turned his attention back to the tourguide and even snapped a loud picture to draw her attention.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

Slipping under the red rope without so much as moving it a micron, Amber was in the cordoned-off section of the manor. All the huge red curtains were drawn and so - even though it was only a little after noon - the entire story gave off an eerie, dark red hue. With her sensitive ears, the meerkat beasial could hear the tour group on the other side of the wall of a library that she slipped into.

Quickly the short investigative journalist began looking through the book cases and immediately found something of interest. On a low shelf was a black-and-white photo of Lady Theodora Varunkirk next to what seemed to be a hand-bound book of poetry. Scanning it, Amber saw lots of lines about a ‘lost love’ and ‘the many fingers of love which grasped at [his] heart.’ It seemed very shallow.

“Definitely relevant,” she said. That’s when she stopped.

Inbetween two books of other poetry was a photograph that almost made Amber gasp.

The late mayor of Varunkirk, with the six-fingered hand on a side table - alight from each finger as though they were candles - and... She blinked. Could it be?

It was. 

She recognized the liberator of her people from her school days in Reach City. A young human man in aviators clothes, he certainly looked a dashing figure as he leaned against a wall, a mummified six fingered hand lay upon the table before him and several other figures.

What was Captain Sphinx doing here and with these people? Seemed out of place from all the stories she’d heard of him. He was practically a folk hero to beastials.   

Meanwhile, Danny raised his hand as they stopped in front of an intriguing painting.

“And who is that lady?” He asked while Tiffany was speaking mid-sentence. He pointed a finger and snapped a photo.

“That? That is Theodora Varunkirk. Seventh lady of the house. Disappeared under mysterious circumstances.”

“How mysterious?” Danny asked, ignoring the other tour guests.

*SNAP*

Tiffany blinked.

“Her husband was willing to pay tens of thousands for her safe return.”

“NEAT!” Danny said, snapping another photograph, trying to overcome his introverted nature.

“Sir, can you please stop?” Tiffany asked, huffing.

“Oh? Oh! I’m sorry.” Danny felt something near him, or rather, he felt the wind of something sidling up next to him. He didn’t even bother looking. “How’d it go?” he whispered.

“Made some interesting finds.” 

The tour continued. Tiffany led the group into what could only be described as a grotesque aviary. Birds of every different kind were stuffed and mounted along the large room that overlooked the northern grounds that were now a public park. Over the central fireplace was a huge owl, almost bearing down on the viewer.

“And these are the trophies of the Varunkirk family. Each generation of Varunkirk mayor added his own touch to the room.”

“This place gives me the creeps,” Amber said, still mulling over her peoples’ hero next to the hand.

“Agreed.”

The tour continued for another hour before the duo were released. It was a nice Autumn day. Amber’s leash was a deep red and she still held onto it.

“Okay editor,” Danny said. “Dish. You owe it to me for forcing me to use this... thing,” he said, holding up the digital camera like it was a dead fish.

“Somehow Captain James Sphinx was involved in this hand business.”

“James Sphinx? The guy who freed the bestials from that island?”

“That’s the one. Ace pilot, hero of the war, record setter. All that stuff.” 

“So he was a criminal?” Danny asked without thinking it through. When Amber shot him a look of hurt he knew that he’d stepped over a line. “Sorry, Amber,” he said softly.

“I hope not. If it turns out such a beloved figure was also a crook it would devastate so many of us. His descendents wouldn’t take it well either.” Amber looked away sadly. 

“Hey, maybe we can clear his name?” Danny said, hoping to clear his little friend’s dark mood.

“I hope so. This is a mystery that spans generations, and leads to a hand being in a locker at a bus station.”

“I think I may have my senior thesis all wrapped up Amber,” Danny said. The sun was setting over the tall manors of the wealthy side of town as orange leaves swirled around the two young adults.

Amber brushed him off, then remembered the other bits of evidence she had ‘collected’. “Oh, hey. Speaking of crime, I may have procured some historical items before sending in an official request. We should go.”  

She shoved the picture of Captain Sphinx in her photographer’s hand. “So that’s what he looks like? Okay. And there’s the hand... and some lady in a fox mask over his shoulder? Interesting. And a guy in a badger mask over the guy’s shoulder... what the heck does that mean?”

“Furry conventions were a thing in the 30s?” Danny joked.

“Shut up,” Amber grunted, elbowing him. “One thing’s for sure, I want to see that hand again.”

“Let’s go to the bus station,” Danny said. They had left the hand there before. Quickly they made their ways through the backalleys and sidestreets of the houses and shopping district before they arrived at fifth street and locker number 541. Quickly zipping in the combination, Amber opened the lock and rolled her eyes.

“Of course it’s gone. Just a note.”

Danny looked over his friend’s furry head, as though looking would make it appear. “Holy cow,” he said.

The note was written inbetween a part of what looked like a diagram on an old piece of yellowed paper torn from an old book. 

‘You had it easy, now it gets hard. Truth now lies in the boot of a leg.’

“Why are you making us jump through hoops with these roundabout clues?” Amber demanded. “Why not just meet us?”

“They must have their reasons. What does it mean Amber? Boot of a leg?” Danny took the page that the note was written on. The ‘clue’ or note or... whatever it was... was written inside a diagram of some kind. On the other side was a treatise.

“Boot... of a leg,” Amber said. “Bootleg...” 

Danny’s eyes widened. “This mystery dates back to the thirties. Prohibition. Bootleggers, they had hideouts all over the place back then!”

“Pretty smart for a human!” Amber smiled.

“Well, it doesn’t narrow our search too much. But it’s something.” Danny smiled. He flipped over the piece of paper. “This looks kind of... mathematical.”

Amber let out a deep sigh. “You want to see Malina again, don’t you?”

“Wh-whaaat?” Danny said. “Well now that you mention it she could be a good lead.”

Amber merely chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t trust those mathematics students.” 

“They’re just math geeks,” Danny retorted. 

“So was the Unabomber.” 

“He wasn’t as charming.”

Amber sighed. “Alright, let’s see if the diagram means anything or it’s just what our mysterious penpal had on hand at the time.” 

As they left the bus station the local news was on and the mayor was giving a speech defending his recent ordinance. 

“We’ve seen plenty of people clawed up, bitten…” 

“Oh why don’t you bite me,” Amber rolled her eyes.

The people around the bus station eyed Amber with a little concern, but she was very cute and small... at least to Danny. He grabbed her leash gently, immediately defusing the tension.

“Let’s get out of here, Amber,” he said, feeling very odd about having his boss on a leash.

Amber gave him a betrayed look as she walked ahead of him, leading him out. 

“I better not catch you smiling.” 

“Never,” Danny said, gulping heavily.