The diner was quickly cordoned off as the police poured in, led by Buck’s old sergeant.

  "Piper!" the wolfhound exclaimed. "Should have known it was you." He gave Sparks the once over before rolling his eyes. "Again with this guy? Do you actually have evidence this time or are you ‘going with your gut’ again?" The officers behind him snickered.

  "Laugh it up, McFoley," Buck shot back. "I just did your job for you." He jerked a thumb toward the back door. "Homicide. Same M.O. as the Cremation Killer, and look who was standing over the body." He yanked Sparks into view.

  The sergeant’s eyes went wide and two of the officers broke off to secure the scene.

  Sparks glowered at the rat and smoothed out the wrinkles on his sleeve. "As I have already stated to multiple witnesses, I arrived here only moments ago and have nothing to do with the atrocity by the dumpster. In his haste to wrongly accuse me of the vile deed, I fear the good detective likely trampled all over some vital evidence."

  Buck grabbed him by the tie and pulled him into range. "Why, you lying sack of—"

  "ENOUGH." A single directive cut through the air. Lieutenant Zywrath had arrived to take over the scene. "Sergeant, secure the scene. Piper, a word." He beckoned Buck towards an empty corner.

  Buck was of two minds about Zywrath. He was a good cop but as a changeling, his featureless face made you feel like you were talking to a porcelain doll.

  "Mister Piper," Zywrath stated, deliberately avoiding Buck's old rank. "While I appreciate your efforts in the city, I would prefer if you did not make accusations so casually. Especially toward someone of Sparks’ particular stature."

  "Social status should have no bearing on murder," Buck seethed.

  "That is not what I was referring to," Zywrath began. He was interrupted by the diner door slamming open so hard, the entrance bell nearly came off its hinge. A large, barrel-chested lion in a well-tailored suit stormed in, expensive briefcase in hand.

  "That is," the lieutenant finished.

  "UNHAND MY CLIENT!" the lion boomed. His volume made the restraining officers flinch. "Gaul Sootmin, attorney at law. My client is innocent until proven guilty. The charges are ridiculous! Who’s the arresting officer? Sparks, don’t say another word!"

  "Another word," Sparks muttered with a smirk.

  One of the officers pointed Gaul in Zywrath's direction. Seeing Buck, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Lieutenant, don’t tell me you’re listening to the man who's been hounding my client for months?"

  "Piper found your client standing over a body. He has good instincts. Perhaps he has been chasing him for the right reasons." The compliment was a surprise but a welcome one. Buck savored the flash of outrage in Gaul’s eyes.

  "Unsubstantiated balderdash!" Gaul roared, his mane bristling at the very notion.

  "That is why we are here," Zywrath countered. An officer handed him a small baggie containing bits of black powder. He held it up to the light. "Ash. Your client has evidence of recent pyromancy." He raised his voice to address the entire diner. "Settle in everyone! Cooperate and you will be home before you know it."

  The remaining diners were separated and questioned by police. Hours later, only Buck, Sparks, the squirrel and the cockatiel remained.

  Gaul started to leave but slid into Buck’s booth at the last minute. He’d calmed down considerably after talking with the lieutenant and his mane was now brushed smooth. "Look here, detective," he said, words dripping with poisoned honey. "I’m just trying to save you any embarrassment. My client truly had nothing to do with this horrid crime and when your baseless accusation is proven false, your reputation would be destroyed. Worse still, I’d sue for defamation and I know you can’t afford a lengthy legal battle with me."

  Buck said nothing. He hated to admit it but the lawyer was right. Deep down, he knew Sparks wasn’t the Cremation Killer. He’d gotten swept up in finally having something to stick to that pompous furball. Once again, Sparks was slipping from his grasp.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Not sensing any rebuttal, Gaul leaned closer. "Drop your claim, then it’s just me versus the city. You walk away clean. I’ll even forget about filing for a restraining order. All you have to do is stay away from my client." Gaul pushed himself out of the booth with a knowing smile and finally left the diner.

  Buck remained, staring a hole into the dissolving mass of pancake and syrup on his plate, his appetite long gone. "Do you want me to take that?" Another server named Milly had come in for her shift and was gesturing to his plate of half-eaten, now-disintegrating breakfast.

  Buck stared at a crumpled napkin on the plate, its edges soaked in syrup. His fist was clenched so tight his knuckles were white. "He was right there," he growled. "I had the bastard this time. I catch him literally standing next to a smoking corpse and he gets to walk?" He thumped the table with his fist in frustration, rattling the silverware.

  Milly looked around awkwardly, unsure of who Buck was talking to. "I'll..um..get you a refill." She trailed off and hurried back into the kitchen.

  There was no point in hanging around here any longer. As he stood to leave, Buck noticed the squirrel from the four-top had joined Sparks at his table and were speaking quickly in hushed tones that quieted as he approached.

  "Uh, can I help you?" asked the squirrel, annoyed by the intrusion. Buck gave her a quick once over. She was fairly attractive with auburn fur and a voluminous tail twice the size of her body. Her tired eyes seemed to carry a weight behind them, like a single mother with too much on her plate. Whatever business she had with someone like Sparks had to be illegal. Another problem for another day.

  "I don't know how you do it, Sparks, but your lives are gonna run out someday," Buck growled.

  "And on that day, I hope it's you who finally catches me, detective." Sparks' wide Cheshire grin was looking more stressed than usual. Claw marks were scratched into the table near his clenched fist. "Now, if you'll excuse me, where were we…? Miss...?"

  "Bushytail! Hazelnut Bushytail," the squirrel chimed in, eager to resume their conversation. Buck huffed and headed for the door. What a lousy day. He was considering stopping for a drink when he felt a touch on his shoulder. It was the cockatiel from earlier. She stood bright and alert, pen and notebook at the ready. Her plumage was white with dark spotted wings. A green crest and tail feathers enclosed the ensemble.

  "Detective, is it?" she chirped. "I'm Krouri Kukri with the Crier Dispatch. Anything you can share about what happened?"

  Krouri wasn’t just any reporter. The Crier Dispatch had been around since the city was nothing more than a hole in the mountain rock. This spitfire of a cockatiel was the latest progeny in a long family history of media ownership.

  Buck scoffed. "Press. Figures. Thought all you reporter types were vultures. Although with the wings I guess you're halfway there." The words slipped out, his bitterness eager to be spread.

  Krouri's feathers puffed out in shock, clearly offended. "EX-cuse you?!" she asked pointedly. Buck closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She was just trying to do her job. No reason to take his frustrations out on her.

  "Forgive me, I've not exactly had the best day and my patience is at an end." He ran a hand across his tired face. "I can't share anything regarding an ongoing investigation but if you give me your info, I'll let you in on the next case I get."

  Krouri went through her messenger bag and produced a business card. She scribbled her number on the back. "Call me then, but only after you've improved that attitude. I know you police-types like to keep your secrets but the paper is a valuable resource you really should consider more often. We hear and see a lot you don't, vulture comment notwithstanding."

  "Again, I sincerely apologize. Have a good day, Miss Kukri." The door jingled as Buck pushed it open and left for home.

  * * *

  Sparks watched the rat go. This was not what he needed right now. He turned back to the squirrel. Nor was this, actually. "So. I believe you were in the middle of attempting to blackmail me," he grumbled.

  Hazelnut pulled a four by six photograph from one of the many pockets on her skirt. "How’s this for an attempt?" She slid the photo across the table. A snapshot of himself in his den through the big bay window. Pazienza’s unmistakable mass was also in frame. "I got half a roll full of shots like this. I bet a guy like you has plenty of money stashed away. My asking price would be a drop from your bucket."

  Sparks cursed internally. When it rains it pours. Although, if she was willing to go as far as blackmail, he had to wonder what else she’d be willing to do. His quick search of the porcupine’s pockets had revealed a note bearing the name of Hexogrant’s CEO, Howard Newlins. V’s job must have involved him. He beckoned the squirrel closer and dropped to a whisper. "I’m afraid I forgot my wallet at home. However, I am currently in the planning stages of an operation I’m sure could benefit from your assistance. It would pay very well. Far more than you could ever hope by selling your snaps to the tabloids."

  Hazelnut was silent for a long time, eyes flicking back and forth as she considered the offer. "What kind of operation?" she asked.

  "To be honest, I’m not sure yet. I’m in a bit of trouble myself, as you clearly saw. I’m supposed to meet with someone tomorrow in the Razzle Dazzle district but I fear all eyes will be looking my way. If you’ll agree to be my liaison, I can promise a hefty signing bonus."

  The squirrel's hesitant look was gone. "Deal."