Disclaimer: Zootopia stories, characters, settings, and properties belong to the Walt Disney Co. This story is written under Fair Use Copyright laws.
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The Fire Triangle
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Part Two:
Oxidizer
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Chapter 1—A Rock and a Hard Place
(Continued... Part 6)
Judy Hopps knew better.
According to Vern Rodenberg, the Red Pig was always in at least a somewhat more reasonable state of mind after he finished blowing off steam.
Yes, BUT—the outburst she had just witnessed had served to stoke, rather than vent, the Sahara Square Mob boss's anger. She could see it in the darkening of his ears and the flecks of foam dribbling from the corners of his mouth. What made it doubly frustrating was that it was all due to her presence. 'If there wasn't a cop here,' he'd said to 'The Painter,' and if there hadn't been he might have felt free to 'get it out of his system.' As it was, he'd been obliged to keep a large measure of his fury corked and bottled.
Still...wasn't that better than watching someone get whacked, even a thug like Vinnie Truffalini? Okay, fine...but now where the heck was she supposed to go from here?
The answer came to Judy almost at once; her best course of action right now would be—no course at all; just sit back and let Peccari start talking when he was ready. And so she remained stock still, waiting...silently waiting.
She didn't have to wait for very long...and when the Red Pig finally spoke again, it was no surprise that he came out of his corner with verbal dukes flying.
"Okay, so maybe Vinnie DIDN'T smell that guy Raymond, but my God-Sister Marie got a look at him too, and that was outside and in broad daylight!"
"Then why didn't she say so when the ZPD interviewed her?" Judy asked him, raising an ear. (She already knew, but was going to make him say it; she was rapidly beginning to loathe this angst-fueled javelina.)
Peccari's response was predictable—and also drenched in sarcasm.
"Hah, like Marie would ever tell YOU that! Unlike another family I could name, mine don't snitch!"
Biting her lip, Judy thought and thought hard. However unwittingly, the Red Pig had just touched upon his real issue with Mr. Big. She would get to that in a minute, but right now she had a tightrope to traverse.
Any policemammal will tell you that as reliable sources of evidence go, witness testimony stands at the foot of the heap. It was a fact the doe-bunny knew all too well, and from fursonal experience. One time, in the wake of an Outback Island bank robbery, she'd watched ten different animals give ten different descriptions of the suspects. (They hadn't even been able to agree on the perps' species.)
And those folks had been unbiased witnesses—something that Marie Tichor most definitely was not. She'd been nursing a grudge against Mr. Big since long before her husband's flower-shop had burned. Add to that the fact that Vinnie Truffalini was her flesh and blood brother and Judy would have bet a month's salary on it; Marie had decided it was Raymond she'd seen only after discussing the matter with her sibling.
Bottom line: She'd seen one of Mr. Big's polar bears fleeing the crime scene because that was who she'd WANTED to see.
Unfortunately, that was something Judy didn't dare point out to the Red Pig—not when he was already this close to the boiling point. Putting her thinking cap into overdrive, she remembered something else.
"Mr. Peccari, when I met with Mr. Big the other day he told me that Raymond has an alibi for the morning of the Flora and Fauna fire; he even checked it out, just to make sure."
That sent her host flying straight out of his chair again, not just angry but also incredulous.
"What, you expect me to believe what THE SHRIMP told you?"
"No," Judy responded coolly, "But if the evidence was there for him to find, it's there for you to find too." He only glowered at her, but that was enough; she moved quickly into the opening he'd left her. "Forgive me for stating the obvious. Mr. Peccari, but if there is a third party at work here...well, it goes without saying that they'd want you and Mr. Big to blame each other for those fires." It sounded like a pretty reasonable argument to her, but it sank like a sash-weight, almost at once.
"So...what happened?" The Red Pig scoffed, snorting loudly. "Someone just put an ad on Stagslist, 'Firebugs wanted, must be stinkin' polar bears?' Gimme a break awready!"
Judy blinked like a semaphore and stifled a groan. Put that way, it did sound absurd; if the animals that burned down Flora and Fauna hadn't been with Mr. Big, then where the heck HAD they come from? Even James 'The Mister' McCrodon couldn't have rounded up a pair of polar bear arsonists on such short notice.
On the other paw...
"That may be, Mr. Peccari, but the fact remains that the vast majority of polar bears living here in Zootopia have nothing to do with either Mr. Big or the Tundratown Mob. In any event, doesn't it behoove you to at least check Raymond's alibi for yourself? As I pointed out earlier, you have nothing to lose...by that or by agreeing to a cease fire. Time is on your side, remember? And whatever else you may think of Mr. Big, you know you can trust him to keep his word."
"Like HECK I can!" the Red Pig squealed, slamming a fist on the table beside him, and sending his drinking glass tumbling to the deck. This time his words carried more bitterness than anything else. "If the Shrimp can't be trusted even to follow the law of Omerta, then as far as I'm concerned, he can't be trusted, period!"
"Since when have you ever cared for the rules of Cosa Nostra?" Judy shot back, snappishly. Oops, now SHE was the one letting her anger off the leash. But dangit if this animal wasn't the most—all right, the most pigheaded individual she'd ever encountered. "Aren't YOU the one who's always saying those rules are a waste of time?"
"Not THAT one!" Peccari practically exploded out of his chair, voice rising from beyond a scream to nearly a roar. But then, surprisingly, he sat himself down again, speaking in a firm but quiet tone. "Okay, yeah, that ring-kissing, Don-whatever, pride-and-honor stuff is way past its expiration date—I'll give ya that—but NOT the rule of Omerta. That one never goes outta style; without it, there would be no Cosa Nostra. Mr. Big woulda said the same thing to you once." His face darkened and he turned and spat, "before that punk son-in-law of his gave up my jewelry store to the coppers." He seemed to have forgotten there was a police officer sitting opposite him.
No, that wasn't quite true, Judy decided. Fru-Fru might have forgotten it, the last time they'd talked, but the Red Pig simply didn't care.
And now they had traced the river of acrimony to its headwaters. But that was fine with Judy; she was ready for this, (she hoped.)
"Mr. Peccari...WAS that rule broken? Doesn't it apply only if you knowingly give up a mob-connected individual or business? Tad had no idea you were involved with the Rafaj Brothers when he bought that ring."
"Maybe not when he bought it," the Red Pig's snort was so loud it sounded like a lawnmower that refused to start. "But he knew later on...when he hadda take it back to have it resized. That's the REAL reason he went somewhere else to get the job done."
Judy felt her gut tighten. "He doesn't know that, not for sure; he just can't think of any other reason why Tad would have taken it somewhere else."
Maybe HE couldn't—but she could.
"Actually, Mr. Peccari, he took it somewhere else because Fru-Fru made him do it."
Nice try, but no dice; the javelina only wagged a triumphant finger.
"Right, that's HOW he found out I had a piece of that place—from her."
Taking a long, slow breath Judy counted to three. Ahhhh, was there any way to get through that thick hide of his?
"All right, but even if Tad did know you were a silent partner in that jewelry store, he's only a regular guy not a wiseguy. The rule of..." What the HECK?
Peccari had thrown back his head and was clutching his sides, laughing so hard it seemed as if he was going to shake loose all the bolts from his lounge-chair. Sweet- cheez n' crackers, what the heck had she just said?
It seemed like hours before he was able to speak again. And even then, it was only between gasps.
"Mr Big..." *Snork!* "...told you that?" *Snerk!*"
Judy felt her ears pull backwards.
"No, it was Fru-Fru...and I've always known," She said this and then added silently, "Mind letting me in on the joke?"
It took only a short moment for her wish to be granted. After another burst of guffaws, the Red Pig crooked a finger at his bodyguards.
"Kayo, why don't you and Jammer go downstairs for a minute?"
The smaller one objected immediately. "Boss, I don't think that's..."
"What, a bunny's gonna hurt me?" Peccari had jumped on his chair again, pointing towards the stairs with both index fingers, a gunfighter with a pair of six-shooters. "Go on, beat it. I'll call ya if I need ya."
Casting sidelong glances at Judy, the two enforcers slunk off towards the stairs and dropped quietly out of sight.
"And don't be listenin' in down there," the Red Pig called after them—and when he turned back to Judy he was...what the heck, what was he grinning for?
"Tell me something Hopps—that's your name right? Tell me Hopps, do ya like fairy tales? Well, that's good, coz I got a doozy for ya." (She had actually given him no indication.)
"Once upon a time," Peccari began, settling back in his chair and weaving the story with his fingers, "Once upon a time there was this robber-baron king who had this bee-YOO-diful daughter. The king loved his little girl very, very much. So much did he love her that he decreed she could marry anybody she wanted...but with one little term o' service. She could not marry a bandit, especially a member of her dad's gang; it hadda be an honest guy. Other than that, have at it."
Judy only stared, feeling her nose twitch and her foot trying to thump; a sour feeling was unwinding in her stomach.
She knew where he was going with this—and she didn't WANT to know.
But there would be no stopping it; Peccari was as relentless as a juggernaut in the telling of his tale.
"Then one day, the bandit princess met this handsome young builder an' the two of them fell head-over-heels for each other. An' so they went to the robber baron king, to ask for his permission to wed." He clasped his hooves together, smiling beatifically and gazing up at the ceiling. "An' oh-happy-day, the king gave the young couple his blessing, 'Yes my child you may wed this animal, if that's what you want.' An' so, they was married and lived happily ever after."
Watching helplessly, Judy could only grit her teeth and hold her breath. No way could that be the end of the story—and it wasn't. At once all the smarminess flew from the Red Pig's face, leaving behind only a seething contempt.
"Except what Daddy didn't tell his little girl was that the guy she'd married WAS a bandit...and not only a bandit, one of his guys. He woulda said so...but when he saw how much they loved each other, he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth." He sat up and leaned forward. "Why, you ask? Because then he would have had to axe their plans to get married, and it woulda broken his daughter's heart." The sniff that followed may have been intended as sympathetic, but it came out as scornful instead. "An' so the princess married her beau, never knowing what he really was." His voice lowered to a murmur and slowed nearly to a crawl, "But daddy knew." And then it dropped to almost a whisper as he tapped himself on the chest, "An' I know!"
He sat back, with his arms folded, patting an elbow and waiting.
...for about half a second; Judy instantly jumped in with both feet.
"No way; I've met Tad Dennison...!"
It was as far as she got before another snorting laugh cut her off.
"Tad Dennison...I wanna die every time I hear that name." Peccari sat up even more sharply, elbows on his knees. "Sorry bunny, but no kewpie doll. His real name's Taddeo Di Nizza—and he ain't just Cosa Nostra, he's second generation Cosa Nostra. His pop only came here to Zootopia coz he was about to be indicted back in the old country and didn't wanna die in the can—bad ticker."
"That's impossible!" Judy snapped, fighting back the tears. It couldn't be true; no of course it wasn't. This was a mob boss she was talking to; mobsters lie all the time, don't they? "Like I said, I've MET Tad, or Taddeo, or whatever you want to call him; he talks like a college professor, not a wiseguy."
"Yeah, I know," the tone of Peccari's voice had become almost reasonable. "But do you wanna know something?" he pointed to the bulkhead on his left. "Take a look at that picture over there."
It wasn't hard to spot; it was the only thing there on that wall, a framed, black-and-white photograph of a javelina in a pinstriped suit, not a single bristle out of place; a vintage photo, by the look of it.
"That," the Red Pig intoned almost solemnly, "Was my great, great uncle Ferdinand Peccari, the Hell-Boar of Walrus Street they called him." He turned and winked. "Don't let the name fool ya though; he was one of the good guys, a government lawyer, the scourge of the dirty bankers." His voice lowered once again to a near murmur, "the real crooks." Swept away by the memory, he seemed to be talking mostly to himself. But then he shrugged it off and zeroed in on Judy once again. "When he emigrated from the old country as a piglet, Uncle Ferdinand didn't even speak the language. By the time he graduated law school, he talked more ivy-covered than your Tad DENNISON ever could. I know; I heard the recordings." He snorted again, and then started banging his hoof on the arm of his lounge-chair, hammering in time with every point that he made. "So don't tell me it ain't possible, rabbit. The Shrimp's son-in-law IS Costa Nostra, the rule of Omerta DOES apply to him, an' he IS a dirty snitch!"
Judy tried to answer, but the Red Pig was only just warming up.
"Ya know something, Hopps? If Taddeo hadn't been mobbed up, I coulda lived with what he did. Those punk jackals deserve everything they get, trying to run blood diamonds behind my back. I hope the city locks 'em up until Dawn Bellwether gets re-elected mayor."
"They why...?" the doe-bunny cried out in exasperation, somehow managing to get a word in edgewise. Peccari was instantly standing on his chair again—and now the storm broke.
"Don't you get it, ya idjit rabbit? It ain't the snitching that hacks me off; it's the stinkin' HYPOCRISY!" He stabbed a finger at a corner of the cabin, presumably in the direction of Tundratown, "For as long as I've known him, The Shrimp's been lecturing me and my guys on the rules of Cosa Nostra, 'don't do this', 'don't do that,' 'don't do the other.'" He snorted and spat on the floor again, and then threw up his hooves, his voice once more becoming that ragged scream. "But let HIS precious sonny-in-law break the most important rule of ALL and it's, 'Ahhhh, Fuggedaboutit!'"
He dropped back into his seat again, no longer screaming but still smoldering.
"Well, I ain't gonna forget about it, see? This time The Shrimp went too far."
Finally, he seemed to have spent himself. Taking another long, slow breath, Judy waited until she was certain he'd finished, and then spoke quietly.
"All right Mr. Peccari, what is it that you want?"
The question seemed to instantly revive him.
"What I want," he grunted, "Is for you to get the heck off my boat."
Judy stared in disbelief; did he really just tell her to...?
"Wh-What?"
"You heard me," the Red Pig informed her coldly, "You delivered the Shrimp's message, now take a hike." Without waiting for a response, he lifted his snout and called over her shoulder. "Jammer...Kayo! Get back up here."
The two bodyguards appeared almost at once.
"Yeah, Boss?"
He pointed to the stairway.
"Put this dumb bunny here in the Zodyak an' take her back to the dock; I've had enough a' this."
"All right, let's go," said the larger one, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her to her feet. She let him, but then immediately shook him off.
""You keep your sticky hooves off of me, jerk." she hissed, brushing herself where he'd touched her. And then she turned on the Red Pig. "As for you Peccari, I delivered Mr. Big's message; now here's one from the ZPD." She thrust a finger in his direction, "Even if no civilians get hurt, it'll go bad enough for you if you choose to retaliate for the Flora and Fauna fire—but if that does happen, if any innocents DO get caught in the middle," she tapped herself with a pair of fingers, "especially if it's another police officer—then you're going to find yourself at war not only with Mr. Big, but with US as well." Slapping her paws on her hips, she leaned forward, showing her incisors. "And you know what?" she added quietly, "I don't think even you can handle us both at once,"
Whoa, who would have thought that a javelina's eyes could get so big? At once Rocco Peccari's peepers expanded to the size of tangerines while his ears went from crimson to almost purple. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak. The same could not be said for Judy's inner voice however, which at the moment was giving a fine impression of a wailing banshee, "What are you DOING, you dumb bunny? You were told NOT to threaten him!"
"Relax, I got this," she answered back. Or somebody answered back; it couldn't have been her who'd said that; no, not ME!
It took The Red Pig all of two and a half heartbeats to recover from his shock. And then he all but blasted out his chair with tusks clashing. Bits of spittle flew from the corners of his mouth as he stalked towards Judy, answering her finger with a quivering one of his own.
"You think...you can come here...on MY boat...and talk to ME...!"
That was all he managed before the doe-bunny threw down her trump card
"Lieutenant Saw knows where I am!" she snapped, stopping Peccari in mid stride, "And he wants me back safe and dry." Pointing at the stairs behind her, she sneered, "Safe and dry...or your pleasure barge goes bye-bye! Sweet cheez n' crackers, did that come out of ME?"
The Red-Pig seemed to be wondering the same thing, staring goggle-eyed once more at the bunny cop. Judy would later liken his appearance to a fire-hydrant on the verge of blowing its gaskets.
And then he let loose his loudest scream yet.
"GET...HER...OUTTA HERE!"
At once, the bodyguards closed in on her, but this time, she was ready.
"Don't touch me; I can find my own way." (She actually had no idea where the Zodyak was berthed.) And with that she turned and marched back down the stairs, all dignity, with the pair of Razorbacks following close at her heels.
Locating the yacht's service boat turned out to be a slam dunk; the moment Judy returned to the after-deck, there it was, mounted to a pair of davits hanging over the rear transom; elephant gray in color, sleek and stubby, all at the same time. As she came closer, Judy saw that another pig was already standing at the control console. It made her wonder if Peccari hadn't planned all along to cut their meeting short. Mmmm-maybe; it certainly fit in with everything else she'd seen of him so far.
"C'mon cutie, get a move on; what're you waitin' for, a sign from heaven?"
It was the boar behind the Zodyak's wheel, grizzled and gruff, wearing a Greek Fishermammal's cap and a tropical shirt that made the one Nick Wilde favored look like Goth wear. It was clear though that he was less irked with her than afraid of what his boss might do if he didn't get this blankety-blank bunny off his yacht right now!
Still...he had said the 'C' word. And so, instead of climbing into the tender, Judy leaped over the transom in a high arc, landing squarely in front of the control console and causing the craft to rock violently on its moorings—nearly pitching the pilot over the side and into the drink.
"HEY!"
"Don't call me cute," Judy informed him curtly, seating herself on the nearest cushion. The grizzled pig only glared at her for a second and then whirled his hoof in the air, the signal to lower away.
The ride back to the quay took surprisingly less time than Judy would have expected. Either this Zodyak was faster than it looked or the Red Pig's yacht hadn't traveled all that far after casting off from the Palm Hotel mooring dock; probably a bit of both.
Still, it gave her some time for reflection.
Had she blown it? No, that wasn't how it felt, not at all; it was more as if she'd been wasting her time all along. Peccari had never intended to accept Mr. Big's offer of a truce—and the fact that he'd kept his yacht so close to shore while they'd been talking lent some serious weight to the notion. Judy was more convinced than ever now that he'd planned all along to terminate the meeting prematurely.
But then something else dawned on her; he hadn't really rejected Mr. Big's offer either; he'd never said an actual 'no' to the arctic shrew's proposal, he hadn't really said anything at all. What was this, more jockeying for position, another move in their ongoing game of Cosa Nostra chess? Ahhh, there was so much she didn't understan...
"'Kay, we're here...out!"
Dropping quickly out of her reverie, Judy saw that the Zodyak had eased up next to a floating dock at the foot of the Palm Hotel pier.
Without a word she hopped out of the boat and onto the deck, leaping up the stairs and taking them five at a time.
She knew what was coming; Lieutenant Saw or no Lieutenant Saw that pig at the Zodyak's helm had payback on his mind for nearly getting dunked. Sure enough, gunning the motor, he swirled the launch in a fast doughnut, drenching the dock in an oil-sheened wave.
Close—but no carrot. By then Judy was already near the top of the stairs, well out of range of the filthy water. Coming level with the pier, the first thing she saw was Vern Rodenberg, parked on the hood of the Montarpan, laying back against the windshield with his jacket off and his paws laced behind his head. At the doe-bunny's approach, he stood and buffed his paws over his muzzle, as rats are known to do.
"Hmmmm, judging by that little display, I'd say things did not go smoothly." He was pointing with nose at the stairs leading down to the floating-dock.
"No," Judy informed him crisply, "they didn't go at all."
"Ahhhh, too bad," the grey rat shook his head, sounding genuinely sympathetic, "But for what it's worth, Hopps, you did the right thing."
"Thanks," she responded, perhaps a little more dryly than she'd intended.
Rodenberg only nodded and then slipped on his jacket and sat down again, sliding down the hood of the vehicle and dropping onto the ground below. "Well," he said, straightening up again, "like they say in the movies, 'let's get outta here.'"
It was the best suggestion Judy had heard all day.
The rat was mercifully silent during the drive back to ZTP Airport. That was both good and bad; good, because the doe-bunny was in no mood to discuss the favor owed him by the ZPD. The bad came from the fact that she'd always hate, hate, hated the tension of waiting for the other foot to thump.
When they got to the airport parking lot however, something happened. Judy was just about to turn onto Red Lot C, where Rodenberg had left his car, when the grey rat suddenly pointed straight ahead. "Keep going, go to Red Lot D."
Judy turned with her nose twitching, "Wha...? That's the limo lot."
"Don't argue, just do it." Her passenger's voice was a barked command—and also exactly the wrong way to talk to this rabbit. If bunnies had bristles, hers would have risen in defiance.
"I don't think so, Mr. Ro..."
His manner instantly changed; imperious to earnest in less than a second.
"Hopps, you can either trust me now, or wish you'd trusted me later. What's it gonna be?" His eyes were a pair of glistening black marbles.
Judy bypassed Lot C and continued on to Lot D.
Taking the ticket from the dispenser, she regarded Rodenberg curiously again. "It's covered," was all he said, and then pointed through the driver's-side window. "All right, go to space 29....but don't go the short way, drive around the outside of the lot."
Judy sighed and complied with his instructions. Skirting the perimeter of the limo lot, she understood, at least in part, why he had brought her to this particular place. Nearly all of the vehicles here were either black or white and most of them were in SUV configuration. Singling out her Montarpan in this sea of sameness would be like trying to pick out one, solitary penguin from a flock of hundreds. Had that been part of the plan all along? What the heck WAS the plan?
"Over there, near that line of trees, see it?" Rodenberg was pointing again.
Judy squinted through the windshield, "The one next to the light-pole?"
"Yeah."
Easing the SUV into the designated space, Judy cut the engine and looked at her passenger again.
"Ohhh-kayyy, now what?"
"Now, will you crack my door please?" Rodenberg asked her. He was already unbuckling himself from the rodent-seat.
Judy reached over and pulled the handle. "All right, but what...?"
"I can't be here," was all he said, and then jumped down to the floor and skittered out through the passenger door, landing in a three point stance. At once, the doe-bunny spotted something
"Wait, you forgot your briefcase." She said, picking it up with a thumb and forefinger, she held it out in the rat-attorney's direction.
He only waved a bony paw.
"Meet me back at my car when you're done here; you can return it to me then." Without waiting for a reply he dropped to all fours and went scurrying away beneath the nearest limousine—in the direction of Lot C, the doe-bunny couldn't help but no...
A shadow fell across her from behind, and she turned, startled.
"Whoa, where the heck did HE come from?"
Someone was standing at the Montarpan's driver's side window, a wild boar; jet-black fur, a natty suit and thin almost to the point of being gaunt.
And then there was that rolling motion with the hoof again—and so Judy lowered her window; this time with a lot more trepidation than before.
"Yes?" she asked, putting on her best brave face.
"You Hopps?" the black pig asked her, hunkering down to bring his face level with hers.
"Mmm, yeah, that's me," Judy answered him, still trying to keep her cool.
By way of response, he nodded at the passenger door.
"My name's Porcini, Joe Porcini. Open up; we need to talk."
At the disclosure of this name, the doe bunny relaxed a little. Joey 'The Shadow' Porcini, the Red Pig's consigliere, another mobster with an appropriate nickname; she'd been wondering why she hadn't seen him on the yacht.
Only...what the heck was he doing here?
"C'mon, c'mon, open the stinkin' door!" He was glancing around, beginning to sound anxious and frustrated. "C'mon, you're not in any danger, bunny—I am. If the Red Pig ever finds out about this, he'll have me whacked before sundown; open UP!"
Judy unlocked the passenger door again and waited, wondering how Porcini intended to fit himself into such a small space. She needn't have concerned herself. Thin as he was, it was snug, but not an especially cramped fit for him, (although he did have to get rid of the rodent-seat first.)
She decided at once to dispense with any pleasantries.
"All right Mr. Porcini, what do you want?"
He shifted in his seat, seeming not to have heard her; or maybe he had.
"There's a lot my boss didn't tell you, bunny, a lot that he couldn't tell you—but it's stuff you need to know—that the ZPD needs to know if we're not gonna see a gang war in this town."
"Uh-huh," Judy nodded, a little pleased but still wary. That was hardly an adequate explanation, "Only first you need to tell me why you're doing this." and then to herself, she added, "Kay, here comes the hemming and hawing,"
But the black pig answered with no hesitation whatsoever.
"Because...I think you're right, Hopps." He leaned towards her as best he could in the tight space. "I don't think it was Mr. Big that had the boss's properties torched. In fact, I'm about 90% certain that the Flora and Fauna job wasn't carried out on his orders. That one, at least, had someone else pulling the strings."
Judy clenched her fist to hide her excitement; had she really just heard what she thought she'd heard? Her former partner had been right all along; she almost wished he was here...almost. "Easy, easy...draw this pig out." She told herself. "And what makes you think so?" she asked him, trying to sound skeptical. Whatever it was it had nothing to do with the conversation she'd just had with the Red Pig; of that much she was more than certain.
Porcini checked the mirrors before answering her, "Something that happened during the sit-down at the Shrew's place; not what was said, but what wasn't said."
"Huh?" Judy's nose was twitching and if it hadn't been resting on the gas pedal, her foot would have been thumping.
"What I'm about to tell you ain't anything the ZPD don't already know," the black pig spoke loudly, as if someone might be listening in from outside, "so I'm NOT being a snitch over here, We had an entire crew of Razorbacks waiting for Mr. Big's goons inside that flower shop. It shoulda been a slaughter...and it was, except we were the ones who got our tails kicked. You saw Vinnie the Painter on the boss's boat, right? None of the other guys in that crew came off much better and a couple of 'em came off a lot worse. We got one guy that's a basket case and is probably gonna stay that way for the rest of his life." He held up a pair of quivering fingers. "And just two polar bears did that; only TWO of 'em!"
Drumming her fingers on her knee, Judy pondered for a second. Everything he'd said was true; ZPD forensics had confirmed it several times over.
And yet...up until this moment, no one had said a word to her about it, not Fru-Fru, not Mr. Big, not Chief Bogo, not Lt. Saw, not Vernon Rodenberg, not even the Red Pig himself. It was as if the subject was taboo, not just the elephant in the room, but a full-grown mastodon!
"All right, but I'm not quite sure I understand the significance." Judy informed him with a forced shrug. She actually had a vague idea, but wanted to hear it from him.
"Because," Porcini was leaning towards her again, pointing at himself with a pair of fingers. "If Mr. Big has that kind of firepower to throw at us, then why hasn't he used it—or at least threatened to use it? That's what I thought for sure was gonna happen when I went to that sit-down, an instant replay of everything that went down inside of Flora and Fauna, followed by a warning. 'Back off right NOW or that's only a sample of what we got in store for you!'"
"But that's not what happened, I take it?" Judy asked, hiding her excitement yet again.
"What are you kiddin' me?" the black boar was staring in disbelief. "Big never even mentioned it—and then when I tried to bring it up, he got mad and accused me of 'spinning fairy tales.' Next thing I know, we're all screaming at each other."
"So THAT'S what started it," Judy thought but didn't say. Instead she said, "And was that when Vinnie 'The Painter' accused Raymond of having been one of the bears that set the fire?
Porcini's look was half pained, half amused. "Yeah, that's right; I never shoulda brought him with me, except the boss insisted. That's what really set things off."
That was also what made Judy decide it was time to lay down one of her aces. But first she needed to soften this boar up a little.
"I guess what you heard about what nearly happened to him on the Red Pig's yacht just now," she said.
"Yeah," the black boar grunted in rueful humor, "Vinnie's lucky he didn't get thrown in the drink; probably woulda if he wasn't too hurt to swim." He shook his head again, "The boss really should have known better than to send him to that meeting; the poor guy's so pumped full of painkillers right now, he hardly knows what planet he's on."
Judy smiled, nodded knowingly—and then lowered the boom, leaning suddenly in his directions with a narrow gaze.
"Except what really set things off, Mr. Porcini, was when YOU threatened Mr. Big's daughter."
His squeal was almost loud enough to crack the windshield.
"Wha...? I NEVER threatened her; the Red Pig'd skin me alive if I did a stupid thing like that!" He was thumping himself in the chest genuinely outraged.
"Then what the heck did you say?" Judy was folding her arms, pretending not to buy it. "If I hadn't heard it from Fru-Fru, I would never have believed her father could lose it like that."
Porcini groaned, shut his eyes and shook all over for a second. "Ahhh, how do I ever get into these things? All I said was, 'You can't keep Tad being a made guy a secret from your kid forever'—and the little idiot took it as a threat that I was gonna let her know." He sat back in his seat, nodding tightly, almost to himself. "But that was when I knew for sure; there could be only one reason Mr. Big wouldn't bring up those 'super-bears' when he was that mad. And that was coz he didn't have any; whoever those guys in that flower shop were, they hadn't been with him."
"Did you mention any of this to the Red Pig?" Judy asked him; another dumb-bunny question that couldn't be avoided.
The black boar's expression was a mixture of bitter and sour.
"Yeah, and now you know why he left me behind on the dock just now,"
"Didn't want to hear it, huh?" Judy asked him with a knowing shrug. Yep, that sounded like the Rocco Peccari she'd just met.
"Pretty much," Porcini nodded, grimly, "That's how he is sometimes. But look...I said there was a lot he didn't tell you. F'rinstance, what he said about Fru-Fru's hubby being a wiseguy? Yeah, that's true but it's only part of the story. Tad Dennison never wanted into the life. He only agreed to be made in order to please his dad; it was the old guy's dying wish. Other than that, even though he's technically part of the Tundratown mob, he's clean as a whistle; that aircraft company he works for? It's strictly legit, and so is everything else he does. He's planning to start his own outfit and won't take a penny from his father-in-law to make it happen." His face crinkled for a second, "Though I think that's mostly coz Fru-Fru would bust in his head if he did." Judy nearly responded with a laugh, but then pulled up short. The black boar's expression had just turned almost deathly serious. "Believe me, if that wasn't the case, Mr. Big would never have let her anywhere near that guy, whatever her feelings for him."
"I see," Judy nodded, although it was hard for her to understand anything right now; her brain felt like it was riding a runaway merry-go-round. Dangit, trying to get a handle on La Cosa Nostra was like trying to catch eels blindfolded; just when you think you've got a grip on one, it slips away from you. "But if that's the case, then why is the Red Pig making such a big deal out of it?"
"He wouldn't be, if his properties weren't getting burned down," Porcini explained, slipping another piece of the puzzle into place. "But they are, and so he's desperate to look like the innocent party here, a guy with every right to have Mr. Big's properties torched—even if he didn't give the order."
"All right, but WHY, Consigliere?" By now, Judy was thoroughly exasperated. This conversation was a bigger waste of time than the interview on the yacht had been.
Porcini answered her in an almost funereal tone.
"Because of the reason I'll get whacked if the Red Pig ever finds out I was talking to you." Checking the mirrors again, he leaned in close, holding a hoof against the side of his face as though to shield his mouth from any lip-readers that might be watching. "Mr. Big isn't the only wiseguy trying to get out of the rackets here; so is my boss."
"WHAT?" Judy reeled back so suddenly, she felt her head bang the glass of the driver's side window.
"Yeah that's right," the black boar told her, pursing his lips and nodding. "Not for anything like the same reason as The Big Shrew you unnerstan', but yeah, he's trying to pull the plug." He took in a small, snorting breath. "Look Hopps, you know what 'an offer you can't refuse is', right?"
She was tempted to come back with something sarcastic, but managed to keep her voice on at least a semi-even keel. "Yes, I've seen the movie."
Porcini held up that pair of fingers again.
"Yeah, well it so happens there's actually two different kinds; the one where you're dead if you turn it down, and the one where you're an idiot if you say no."
"And which kind is this?" Judy asked; she had already regained most of her composure.
"All of the above," the black pig snuffled, scratching behind an ear. And then his head tilted upwards by a few degrees. "Y'ever hear of a guy named Sheldon Camelson?"
The name was vaguely familiar, but the doe-bunny couldn't quite place it.
"Mmmm, no...I don't really know that name."
"He's a big time casino-operator out of Macaow," Porcini informed her, "and I mean big as in huge. He has joints in the Baahamas, Singapaw, Vegoats, Ewerope, you name it...and a pair a' cruise-ships on top of it; he's got tons of money and also some serious political connections. He owns a yacht that makes the one the boss has look like a bathtub toy. That was where I met the guy, and I hadda wait until he was done talking to the South Afurican Foreign Minister before I could see him." He paused for effect, perhaps two or three seconds, and then dropped it, "And now he's making a play to add the Palm Hotel Casino to his collection."
Judy's head nearly banged against the glass again.
"Oh, sweet cheez' and crackers, and what the HECK?"