The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One

The Fire Triangle, A Zootopia Fanfiction -- Part One: Fuel - 80

(Conor's insistence also meshed with Albert Tufts' character in Rodenberg's opinion; just the sort to conjure up a bogey-mammal, in order to explain away his failures.)

It brought up a zillion new questions—but none of particular importance; as a matter of fact, there was only one question that mattered right now.

"I know you didn't touch the money." Rodenberg said, leaving the subject of The Phantom for the moment. He flipped the pad to another page. "According to the police report, you never even looked at it...that anyone saw. But what about while you were inside that locker with the door closed? Did you touch it then?"

Conor's answer to this was exactly what he was hoping for, the young fox's mouth stretched into a long flat line and he raised a paw in a ranger-scout salute. "Never went near it, I swear. If the cops got to that case before Mr. Shortal did, I didn't want them finding my scent on it."

"Ohhh-kay," Rodenberg made another notation, "So when did you first realize the ZPD had you under surveillance?"

"When I went back to the locker again, after that volleyball game," Conor answered him, pantomiming a serve to illustrate.

The grey rat's pen froze in mid-air.

"Hold on kid, you didn't look at the money the first time you went inside that locker. Why'd you do that if you didn't know the cops were onto you yet?"

"Oh, I never look anyway," the young fox responded, waving dismissive paw "just in case. And besides I knew it was there; Mr. Shortal's a weasel y'know; I could smell his musk all over that thing before even I popped the lock."

"Riiiight," Rodenberg smirked wryly as he made another note, and then he asked, "Any idea how the ZPD made you, kid?" He asked this as if expecting a negative response; the young fox didn't disappoint him.

"No idea,"

"All right," Rodenberg skipped the notes this time, and leaned forward on his elbows. Here came the 64K question.

"And how'd you manage to figure out the ZPD was onto you?"

The next thing he said was "All right, mind letting me in on the joke?"

When the young fox told him, Rodenberg started laughing too—so hard, he nearly went tumbling out of his chair. When he finally recovered, he was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oy, oy, oy...I knew that guy was a schmoe, but...does anybody else know about this besides...uh, what'd you call him again?

"Guildenkranz, I call him Guild for short, and the answer is no, I wouldn't blow something this wicked-good."

"Ehhh-xcellent," Rodenberg answered in his best Mr. Bearns, "and I take it Guildenkranz is not your online chum's real name?"

Conor fanned a pawlm, "Nah, that's just his screen name—though he probably changed it by now; I would for sure." He grew serious again, "And that's all I know about him, Mr. Rodenberg. If you want to know what city he lives in, what state, what country, his species, his age; don't ask me, I'm Cap'n Clueless here. Heck, I don't even know if Guild's a guy or a girl."

"But you think of him more as a guy," the rat noted, "and of course he knows which city YOU live in; what else does he know about you?"

"That's it, that's all," the young fox told him, "There was no way he could've helped me without that information. But I never told him my species, age, or anything else either." He flashed an ironic grin. "If Guild knew I was only fourteen, he'd prolly have bailed on me a long time ago. Uh, can I ask why you wanna know all this?"