Bloodbath At Lone Digger

Authors note: For the best experience, watch video before reading

Word spread fast.

By the time detective Owl got to the scene, there was already a crowd outside. The pigs did a good job keeping the Felines and Canines groups separate for now, but with racial tensions as high as they were, you could never be sure when things would take a turn for the worse. He took a quick 360 look around while walking towards the club. What kind of name was “Lone Digger” for a club? Even a sleazy one in the wrong part of town.

Charlie was standing near the doors to make sure no one could get in to contaminate the crime scene. It was hard to tell, because of his natural low and protruding brow, but Owl had a strong impression the Gorilla was frowning.

“It’s a real mess in there, boss,” Charlie growled. “Watch your step.” He pushed the door open. They both stepped inside.

“Mess” was an understatement, Owl decided. It looked as if a particularly ambitious director just finished shooting the climax to his B-slasher-movie. Blood was splattered everywhere. Adding to the feeling of a movie set were the bright flood lights the vultures had brought in. They were all over the room, placing little orange markers and taking photographs.

At the far end of the room sat three people at three different tables. “Whoo,” hooted Owl. He cleared his throat and ruffle his feathers a bit. “Who,” he tried again, in his normal speaking voice now, “are our witnesses?”

Charlie gestured with his chin to the first table. “That’s Larry Underground. He’s the owner of this establishment.”

A Mole-rat. That explained the name.

“He claims not to have been present when the fight broke loose. The other two confirmed this. The Zebra called him when things started to turn sour. He got here before any of us did.”

Owl nodded.

“That’s the Zebra right there,” Charlie continued. “She’s a waitress. She claims to have been there when it all began and hurried to the back office as soon as she could.”

Owl cringed. He disliked dealing with Equines. They all seemed to be slightly insane; some of the most stubborn creatures he ever met and prone to start kicking when provoked. He’d put off that interview to last.

“The one covered in blood was the dancer on stage as it all went down. She claims not to have noticed.”

The dancer was sitting at her table, doe-eyed and nervous. Neither of those traits were remarkable for an antelope, of course, specially with the smell of blood thick in the air. Yet her eyes seemed a bit too wide, her demeanor a little too panicky, for someone who made a living as a stripper in this part of town.

Owl beckoned for Charlie to follow him as he made his way towards the dancer’s table. “Ma’am? I am going to have to ask you some questions,” he said, pulling out a notebook. “Your name, please?”

“Luscious Legs,” she replied softly.

“Is that your stage name, Ma’am?” Owl sighed when he saw her nod. “I’ll need your legal name.”

“Jamie Hoofs,” she replied, visibly more nervous.

“Genus?”

“Gazelle.”

The detective turned his head ninety degrees sideways. “That’s quite the pair of horns you have there.”

Behind him Charlie snorted a condescending laugh. “Augmented.”

A dramatic gasp sounded from one table over. “Did you just assume her gender?” Zebra huffed loudly. One glance from Charlie was enough for her to turn her head the other way and pretend to mind her own business again. Owl rolled his eyes. Equines.

“A lot of me is fake, ape,” Jamie said. Her voice was suddenly louder and a lot heavier. “The horns ain’t it.”

“Right,” Owl remarked. “What can you tell me about what happened here tonight?”

“Sorry, I didn’t notice anything.”

Owl turned his head to the side — the other side this time. “The body count is in the double digits and you didn’t notice anything?”

“What are you on?” Charlie blurted out.

The Gazelle was really panicking now and looked about ready to take off running. “I want a lawyer.”

The detective hooted in irritation. “There’s no need to bring in the leeches. Believe me, illegal substances are the last thing on my mind right now.” He paused for a moment to compose himself. “But, of course, that is your right. We will continue this conversation at the station…”

“No,” Jamie interrupted him. “No, that’s all right.” The Gazelle sighed and drummed her fingers lightly on the table. “Look,” she finally said. “I might have taken something to help me get into the beat before my shift. You have to understand, it’s not exactly easy. How would you feel if you had a bunch of Crocks staring at your legs for two hours? And they always sit right at the stage. I don’t care what Larry says, they are not here for any sexual fantasy. Do you get me?”

They nodded sympathetically.

“So I just close my eyes and lose myself in the music. I make a point not to take note when things start happening. Brawls are pretty common here. Just…not with this sort of outcome. Whatever set them off tonight was not normal.”

Owl was busy scribbling in his note book. “Go on,” he encouraged her.

“That’s pretty much it. Find the people who are not normally here, and you will find out what happened,” Jamie concluded apologetically. Two seconds later she added: “There was a lot of hissing.”

Owl thanked her and gave her his card. He doubted she would remember more details by morning — or anything at all — but he had to make the gesture. He pulled Charlie aside before going on to the next witness. “Who hisses?”

“Snakes, Crocodiles, Cats, damn near half the patrons here tonight.” Charlie shrugged.

“The Gazelle already told us the Crocks were regulars. That leaves the Cats and the Cobras. Lets see what Mister Underground can tell us about them.”

“Gentlemen,” Larry said as they approached his table. “Can I get you a drink?”

Owl’s feathers stood up for a moment. Burrowing rodents always rubbed him the wrong way. They were blind, but responded you your presence as anyone would. The detective couldn't imagine living without his keen eyesight. That these creatures could, seemingly without impairment, somehow seemed…unnatural. “I’m on duty, mister Underground.”

“Of course. How can I help you?”

Owl flipped to a blank page on his notepad. “Tell me about tonight.”

“Well, I opened up, as usual, after a couple of hours, I went home like I do everyday. Usually until it’s time to close up again. But tonight I get a call, about three hours before closing time, that all hell has broken loose. Of course, I hurried over. I had to make sure my ladies were all right.”

“Jamie Hoofs is not exactly a lady,” Charlie objected.

“She’s got the tits and ass that bring in the cash, that’s lady enough for me.” The Mole-rat responded matter-of-factly. “Lady enough for my regulars as well.”

“What about your not-regulars?” Owl inquired.

“Well, sometimes it hurt their feelings some. It’s rare, but there’s been trouble before. Bert used to handle the situation.”

“Bert?”

“The bouncer,” Larry clarified. “He was a damned fine man. He will be hard to replace.”

“Were there any not-regulars here tonight, that you know of?”

“That looked like trouble you mean? Not when I left. I’ve not smelled the politicians before, but I’ve never had any problems with their kind. They tend to keep their noses clean.”

“What politicians?” Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow. It was hard to imagine anyone into politics visiting this club.

Larry waved his hand. “You know, the snakes.”

“Not every snake is a politician, Mister Underground,” Owl said almost automatically.

“No, but every politician is a snake,” the Mole-rat countered with a grin. “They felt like politicians. Slick and Slithering. Overly polite, but not exactly friendly. I don’t get them much, but when I do I can spot them a mile away.”

“What about the cats?”

“The college boys? Yeah, semi-regulars since classes started. Bert told me they showed ID when they first came in.”

“Were they any trouble?”

“Some tension with the canines, you know how it is. Bert threw them out once or twice, after they drank too much and got confrontational. Never bothered my ladies though. They seemed like normal kids.”

It was probably all the useful information they were going to get out of Underground. Owl flipped his notebook closed. “Thank you. If there is anything else, we will contact you.” He didn’t offer the Mole-rat his card — how would he read it? “If you think of anything, or hear anything…”

“I will make sure our fine creatures in blue will get the message,” Larry said, smiling widely. The smile drew attention to his prominent incisor teeth. Owl felt a little twitch in his hands. He quickly moved on to his third and final interview.

“Took you long enough,” The Zebra huffed when Owl and Charlie got to her table.

“Just being thorough, Ma’am,” the detective responded apologetically.

“Well, if you got to me first, I could have saved you a lot of time. I know exactly what happened. I was there.”

“All right, tell me Ma’am?” Owl said, opening his note pad again.

“Zoe Stripes, Mountain Zebra. Make sure you note I’m a Mountain Zebra. We’re endangered, you know.”

“No, you’re not,” Charlie said, “Mountain Zebras have white bellies. You’re a Plain Zebra if I ever saw one.”

Owl and Zoe both stared at Charlie — Owl in disbelieve that the Gorilla could be so stupid as to work up an Equine, Zoe with a murderous glare.

“What? My ex was a Mountain Zebra.” Charlie muttered defensively.

“Excuse me?” The Zebra started screeching, “You don’t know me! You don’t know my life! Who are you to question my identity?”

“I apologize, Ma’am,” Owl tried to smooth things over. “Of course you are a Mountain Zebra. I’ve got it noted.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Zoe huffed. “You’d do well to teach your ape some manners, detective.”

“He really is very sorry, aren’t you, Charlie?”

“My apologies,” the Gorilla said reluctantly.

“What can you tell us about tonight, Ma’am?”

“It was the those damned snakes. They had been harassing me all night.” Zoe said, sounding very sure of herself. She lowered her voice a bit. “They were conservatives, you know? Family values they call it. But the only values they have is sexism and oppressing minorities. They can’t stand a sexually liberated woman. But they can’t stay away either. I don’t know why we keep allowing these creatures to…”

“Ma’am? Please, stick to the sequence of events,” Owl sighed. He really didn’t feel like listening to hour long rants on politics and social justice.

“Well!” the Zebra huffed indignantly. “When I tripped, one of those damned snakes tried to bite me. Bert was about to throw him out, but then another snake bit Bert. That’s how things got out of hand.”

“How did you trip?” Owl asked, looking up from his notes.

Zoe wiggled a little uncomfortably in her chair. “I was on my way to serve a table. I am not sure, but one of the Dobermans might have tripped me.”

“Why would he trip you?”

“As a prank?” Zoe started getting nervous. “See, they put some drinks for the Cats on their tab. But before I got there…”

“Oh, so it was canines and felines getting in a fight.” Charlie summarized.

“That’s racist!” Zoe yelled.

Owl suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “But is it what happened?” he asked.

“No! I mean, yes, but it’s not…They were…Look, Bert would have dealt with it. He always deals with it. They always settle down after he gets involved. It was the damned snakes preventing him from deescalating things this time. It’s the politicians’ fault!” The Zebra looked almost desperate in her attempt to not implicate the Canines and the Felines in any wrongdoing. Owl wondered if she was aware how racist she looked in this moment.

“I think that will be all for now, Miss Stripes,” the detective said. He was already standing up. “Thank you so much for your time. Here’s my card. Call me if anything else comes to mind.” He hurried away before Zoe could respond. Together with Charlie he made his way towards the front door, careful not to step on any of the blood splatters.

“That was fun,” Charlie said without any humor.

“You know the worst thing?” Owl asked. He suddenly felt very tired. “She is not wrong. If it turns out the bloodbath here started with Felines and Canines getting into a fight, half the country will yell racism.”

“Pin it on the Cobras? Everyone loves a good political scandal.”

“You want to deal with that media circus? Besides, what happened to looking for the truth?”

“People don’t care about truth. They care about placing blame.”

“That’s rather cynical.”

“Yeah?” Charlie pushed open the door. “Lets see if you still think so by the time we get to the car.”

The moment Owl set foot on the pavement, Tom Whiskers hurried towards him. The detective knew the puma well. He was a community leader of some kind and usually a pain in the backside.

“Detective!” Tom yelled when he saw Owl trying to get away without talking to him. “Detective, what happened here?”

“I don’t comment on ongoing investigations, Tom. You know that.”

“But what happened? Certainly there is something I can tell my people…”

“I got this,” Charlie whispered to Owl. He turned towards the Puma. “What happened was a lot of creatures succumbing to their savage nature. That’s all.”

“Savage nature?” Tom echoed, offended, “What are we? Humans?”

“Mister Owl!” A Husky was approaching them. Her blue eyes almost shooting fire. “Sir, I have a witness who swears tonight’s tragedy was provoked by three young cats.”

“You can’t trust this dog, she’s obviously biased against felines.” Tom immediately objected. “Why would this witness come to you, and not go to the police.”

“Because he trusts my journalistic integrity.” She flashed her press card. “And I trust his story.” She turned to the Puma and sneered: “We all know pussies can get feisty when they get wet.”

Tom pulled up his upper lip, exposing his sharp teeth. “Do you wanna see me get feisty?”

“Try me, Whiskers,” the Husky promptly responded with a growl.

“Break it up,” Charlie angrily ordered, getting between the two. “What kind of example are you setting here?” A couple of Swine came running to keep the peace.

“Miss Husky, if your witness wants to make a statement at the station, I can assure you he will be heard. Other than that, I can not comment on tonight’s events. Excuse me.” Owl said. He managed to ignore the objections thrown at him and quickly walked to his service vehicle.

“What did I tell you?” Charlie said when he caught up with Owl. “No one cares about truth. As long as they can blame someone else. We weren’t meant to all live in close proximity.”

Owl was staring over his car to the other side of the street. A Puppy and a Kitten had gotten away from their caretakers and were playing together on the sidewalk. “Maybe not, Charlie, maybe not. But we’ll learn.”