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A Wasteful Death
Chapter 1
The crowd was composed mostly of prey; Marlot could tell by the antlers and horns over the heads. There was even a couple of giraffes, their heads poking above those around them. Off to one side, the prey giving them plenty of space, was a group of predators.
He had parked a few blocks away, knowing from experience that trying to park close would be a waste of time. Bodies left to rot always attracted gawkers, even when the body wasn’t in plain sight. It happening in such a wealthy neighborhood just made the spectacle all the more appealing.
He reached the back of the crowd and looked for space to squeeze in. Unlike them, he wasn’t here to look, but to work. Everyone was packed tight, trying to get as close to the enforcer line as they could. Morbid curiosity forced them to catch a glimpse of what was waiting for them.
Everyone ended up as a body, it was just a question of time.
“Excuse me,” he said, his deep voice a little louder than the crowd’s. “I need to get through.” They didn’t hear him, too focused on the enforcers moving about in front of the house. It wasn’t like they were going to get to see the body until he was done with it.
Marlot sighed and ran a hand over his muzzle in frustration. He could force his way through them. An unfriendly smile spread on his muzzle. Well, he could certainly use the fact that they were prey against them.
He let a low growl escape his lips and maintained it. It was soft, not loud enough for them to hear over the noises of the crowd. It took a moment, but the people closest to him, a buck, an antelope, and a horse, started fidgeting.
He kept growling, and they started nervously moving in place, looking around. They weren’t aware of him yet, but their instincts told them they were in danger.
The horse looked over her shoulder, startling when she noticed him. She moved away, bumping into the antelope, who looked at what was causing the commotion and backed into someone else. In a cascade they all became aware of the wolf in their midst and backed away, making a path for him.
Marlot smiled at them, letting his sharp teeth show just for a moment. “Thank you.” He strode through the opening until he reached the line. A muscular moose dressed in the orange enforcer’s uniform stood there. He didn’t react to Marlot’s presence. Enforcers went through intensive training to help them curb their instinct, whether it was fleeing—for the prey species—or hunting—for the predators.
“This is as far as you go.” The moose’s voice was deep and reverberating. “There’s an investigation going on.”
Marlot took out his ID and showed it to him. “Marlot Blackclaw, Registered Investigator. I’m here for the body.”
The enforcer took it and examined it, then returned it to him. “There’s already an RI on the scene.” He looked over his shoulder and searched for a moment before pointing to the lion by the house’s garage.
Marlot smiled as he watched Trembor for a moment. He must have been close by when the call came since he couldn’t see the lion’s car anywhere. If not, he had to be prescient. It was the only way his partner could manage to consistently reach the scenes before he did.
Trembor was talking with a female bobcat officer. Further back, leaning against a car, he saw the bright red frog eating a sandwich.
“I work with him.” Marlot smiled and patted the moose on the arm.
The moose flinched at the touch. “You do?”
“I know, you’ve never heard of two RIs working together.” He was new to the force. He still thought of himself as prey, even if his uniform marked him as being off limit at the moment.
Marlot slipped past him and walked toward the house. Like the other houses on that side of the street, it was partially built in the hill. Other than that, each house was different. One was low to the ground, probably going deep into the hill, the façade was some sort of rock. One further away along the road was all wood, taller than the hill, and not even painted.
Wealth let people do that, build to their liking. The rest, which included Marlot, made due with identical houses built in bulk.
This house was well-maintained. It had slate-gray concrete at the street level and blood-red siding for the two levels above. The color made him salivate. He should have stopped for something to eat before getting here.
There was another officer by the door, a skinny wolf with motley brown fur. His job was to keep anyone out, including other enforcers, until the body was removed. Before that happened, the house belonged to him and Trembor. The officer looked at his ID and let him through.
The door opened on a short entry way. On his right, another door led to the garage. It was open, and he could see a car, a sleek two-seater with a silver body. Marlot knew little about cars, but this looked expensive.
Shelves with boxes occupied the far wall. He didn’t need to bother checking them. The enforcers would go through the house and inventory its contents, once they gave the all clear. Still, by the number of boxes, he got a sense that the owner wasn’t one to throw away much.
He climbed a short stairwell up one floor. The landing had a hall to his right with doors further along. Another stair went up to the top floor.
Down the hall, the wall on his right had two doors evenly spaced, one on his left and one in the center of the wall. The first door opened to an office, a computer on a desk, and shelves with neatly stacked books and folders. It spoke of someone who liked things kept in an orderly fashion.
The room held no scent. When he strained, his ears could just make out the sound of the air system. It was much better than the one at his place; his could wake him if it had too many scents to filter. He stepped to the desk and smelled the chair. The scent on the seat was a few days old. It didn’t tell him much about the person who’d sat there.
He went to the window and looked outside. The crowd might have increased since he’d entered, or perhaps it was just the change in his perspective. The newsies formed a few packs among the onlookers, as close to the enforcer line as they could. They were trying to get someone to answer their questions. Marlot smiled. He could just imagine Trembor gesturing his opinion of them.
He walked out and closed the door. The next one, on the opposite wall, opened to a large bedroom. Again, the air was clear of any scent. The bed was made, and still held the scent of the occupant…no, occupants. More than one person had slept in it, but the other one’s scent was much older. Marlot smiled; he smelled sex mixed in. Good for them, he thought.
The attached bathroom had a well-used scratching post, so the owner was feline. The counter was bare. Again, signs of someone who liked order. All the fur maintenance products were placed in an orderly fashion in the cabinet behind the mirror.
He left the room and went to the last door. He opened it and looked onto a scene that contradicted the image he’d built of the owner. This room was chaos. The workout equipment was neatly arranged, but dirty towels were scattered around the room. He was amazed at the efficiency of the house’s air system; he couldn’t smell the reek coming off the towels until he stood close to them. It was the same as the second scent he’d picked up from the bed. So, the house’s owner wasn’t the one who’d used this room.
He looked at the closest machine. He had no idea what it was for. It was clear someone would sit and push on the grips, but he had no idea why. Machines like that were prey tools. He trained by fighting. Was she dating prey? To each their own, he thought. He studied the grip, and he could see clear claw marks in them. Few prey species had claws.
He went back to the stairs and up to the top floor. On reaching the top, he faced a door with a lock panel by the handle. This would lead outside, which he confirmed by looking out the small window.
He turned right and walked into a short hall, by a bench with empty hooks above it. Past the bench, the wall to his left—the exterior wall—had a curtain running all the way to the end.
He pulled the curtain aside and looked out on the back of the house. The yard was deep and well-kept, the grass trimmed short. The back was sparsely wooded with a path cutting through the trees. Closer to the house was a lone sunning chair on a patch of lawn.
Closing the curtain, he continued a few steps. The wall to his right ended. He turned and looked at one large space with little furniture. He saw the body on the floor, halfway between himself and a dining table, but ignored it for the moment.
The area to his left was a living area. It held a couch, two seats, and a video screen on the wall. Looking it over he felt like he was watching a picture from a housing site. It looked perfect, not one scratch on the back of the couch or the arms of the chairs. Again, the owner loved order.
He peered around the wall to his right and saw a clothes rack with a vest and a light jacket. Next to it stood another scratching post, although this one didn’t show any mark of use. Was it just for show? It might be a feline thing, although Trembor only kept a scratching post in his bathroom.
The back of the room held the kitchen on the left and an eating area on the right. The kitchen gave him the same feeling as the living space: it was perfect. There was a white slate top on the meat preparation table. He could see space for blood to pool from where he stood, but none of the stains that came from actual use. The fridge was spotless, as was the heater door.
The dining table, in contrast, showed use. The varnish on the wood had been worn down by years of plates, bowls, and hands rubbing on it. Marlot thought it was the one item in the house the owner had loved. Eight chairs circled it, and a purse had been left on it.
Now he went to the body.
He looked at it, her. Female cheetah. She was on her stomach, right arm stretched out toward the table. Her death hadn’t been instantaneous. She dragged herself, trying to reach, and he looked at where she was pointing: the table. Her purse, to call for help. The killer had either let her do it, knowing she wouldn’t make it or had already left.
He crouched next to the body and took out his pad. He looked at her again. “What a waste,” he sighed before turning on the recording program. “This is Registered Investigator Marlot Blackclaw, recording the visual examination of the body. No name yet. The body was a cheetah, female, approximately five-foot-eight, and weighing a hundred and ten pounds. The body is clad in a light brown business jacket.” He paused and pulled the sleeve away from the arm. “Over a white shirt, and a matching knee-length skirt. She is still wearing her shoes, so she was attacked not long after arriving home. Those things look too uncomfortable for her to stay in any longer than needed.”
He paused the recording when he heard someone coming up the stairs. A red-brown mane came into view, followed by Trembor’s golden-furred face.
“What do you think?” Marlot asked the lion, indicating the body.
Trembor looked around and joined him. “Well, I don’t think she did it to herself.”
Marlot chuckled. “That’s kind of obvious. Do you have a name?”
“Aiden Spottedfur. She was thirty-two.”
“Did the first officer on the scene catalog her ID?”
Trembor shook his head.
“Maybe we’ll be lucky then. It’s possible her killer just hasn’t gotten around to paying her PRT.”
Trembor leaned in over the body and sniffed it.
Marlot wasn’t surprised; even with his keener nose, he hadn’t smelled anything standing up.
“Smells like she’s been dead for a few days. What do you think, three? That’s a long time to wait to pay her Productivity Tax.”
“Just being hopeful. If he was planning on paying it, he would have taken the body.” Marlot started recording again. “The body’s name is Aiden Spottedfur, and the smell test approximates the time of death at three days. Now checking the pockets for contents.” The only thing they contained was her ID wallet. “Her ID has been found. This is now officially a tax evasion case.”
“Her rating is going to be high,” Trembor said. “She worked for Arcas.”
Marlot had to think about it for a moment. “They’re the ones who came out with that synthetic meat that’s actually edible, aren’t they?”
Trembor nodded. “Everyone who worked there saw a sharp increase in their rating when that stuff started selling.”
“I can’t stand the stuff,” The wolf mumbled. He called up the Productivity Rating Database on his pad. It checked the pad was authorized, then requested his access code. When that was confirmed, the scanner on his pad came on, and he scanned Aiden’s ID.
A moment later her information appeared on his pad, including her rating. “Take a look at it,” Marlot gasped, lifting his pad so Trembor could read it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rating this high.”
“No wonder,” the lion said in amazement. “She didn’t just work at Arcas, she was their vice president.”
Marlot read her information and confirmed it. That indeed explained the number. “Who contacted the enforcers?”
Trembor took out his own pad. “Her secretary. This was the third morning that Aiden didn’t show up. When she didn’t answer her pad, he checked the Claimed ID Registry. Aiden wasn’t listed there, so he came here. All the doors were locked, but the curtains were open. That’s when he saw the body. The enforcers closed them to prevent the newsies from peeking in.”
“It lines up with the scent of death.” The wolf stood and stretched.
He was entering the number for Jaxca, their medical examiner, on his pad when something fell behind him. He and Trembor spun around and stared at the jackal standing by the door, sports bag plopped at his feet.
He had parked a few blocks away, knowing from experience that trying to park close would be a waste of time. Bodies left to rot always attracted gawkers, even when the body wasn’t in plain sight. It happening in such a wealthy neighborhood just made the spectacle all the more appealing.
He reached the back of the crowd and looked for space to squeeze in. Unlike them, he wasn’t here to look, but to work. Everyone was packed tight, trying to get as close to the enforcer line as they could. Morbid curiosity forced them to catch a glimpse of what was waiting for them.
Everyone ended up as a body, it was just a question of time.
“Excuse me,” he said, his deep voice a little louder than the crowd’s. “I need to get through.” They didn’t hear him, too focused on the enforcers moving about in front of the house. It wasn’t like they were going to get to see the body until he was done with it.
Marlot sighed and ran a hand over his muzzle in frustration. He could force his way through them. An unfriendly smile spread on his muzzle. Well, he could certainly use the fact that they were prey against them.
He let a low growl escape his lips and maintained it. It was soft, not loud enough for them to hear over the noises of the crowd. It took a moment, but the people closest to him, a buck, an antelope, and a horse, started fidgeting.
He kept growling, and they started nervously moving in place, looking around. They weren’t aware of him yet, but their instincts told them they were in danger.
The horse looked over her shoulder, startling when she noticed him. She moved away, bumping into the antelope, who looked at what was causing the commotion and backed into someone else. In a cascade they all became aware of the wolf in their midst and backed away, making a path for him.
Marlot smiled at them, letting his sharp teeth show just for a moment. “Thank you.” He strode through the opening until he reached the line. A muscular moose dressed in the orange enforcer’s uniform stood there. He didn’t react to Marlot’s presence. Enforcers went through intensive training to help them curb their instinct, whether it was fleeing—for the prey species—or hunting—for the predators.
“This is as far as you go.” The moose’s voice was deep and reverberating. “There’s an investigation going on.”
Marlot took out his ID and showed it to him. “Marlot Blackclaw, Registered Investigator. I’m here for the body.”
The enforcer took it and examined it, then returned it to him. “There’s already an RI on the scene.” He looked over his shoulder and searched for a moment before pointing to the lion by the house’s garage.
Marlot smiled as he watched Trembor for a moment. He must have been close by when the call came since he couldn’t see the lion’s car anywhere. If not, he had to be prescient. It was the only way his partner could manage to consistently reach the scenes before he did.
Trembor was talking with a female bobcat officer. Further back, leaning against a car, he saw the bright red frog eating a sandwich.
“I work with him.” Marlot smiled and patted the moose on the arm.
The moose flinched at the touch. “You do?”
“I know, you’ve never heard of two RIs working together.” He was new to the force. He still thought of himself as prey, even if his uniform marked him as being off limit at the moment.
Marlot slipped past him and walked toward the house. Like the other houses on that side of the street, it was partially built in the hill. Other than that, each house was different. One was low to the ground, probably going deep into the hill, the façade was some sort of rock. One further away along the road was all wood, taller than the hill, and not even painted.
Wealth let people do that, build to their liking. The rest, which included Marlot, made due with identical houses built in bulk.
This house was well-maintained. It had slate-gray concrete at the street level and blood-red siding for the two levels above. The color made him salivate. He should have stopped for something to eat before getting here.
There was another officer by the door, a skinny wolf with motley brown fur. His job was to keep anyone out, including other enforcers, until the body was removed. Before that happened, the house belonged to him and Trembor. The officer looked at his ID and let him through.
The door opened on a short entry way. On his right, another door led to the garage. It was open, and he could see a car, a sleek two-seater with a silver body. Marlot knew little about cars, but this looked expensive.
Shelves with boxes occupied the far wall. He didn’t need to bother checking them. The enforcers would go through the house and inventory its contents, once they gave the all clear. Still, by the number of boxes, he got a sense that the owner wasn’t one to throw away much.
He climbed a short stairwell up one floor. The landing had a hall to his right with doors further along. Another stair went up to the top floor.
Down the hall, the wall on his right had two doors evenly spaced, one on his left and one in the center of the wall. The first door opened to an office, a computer on a desk, and shelves with neatly stacked books and folders. It spoke of someone who liked things kept in an orderly fashion.
The room held no scent. When he strained, his ears could just make out the sound of the air system. It was much better than the one at his place; his could wake him if it had too many scents to filter. He stepped to the desk and smelled the chair. The scent on the seat was a few days old. It didn’t tell him much about the person who’d sat there.
He went to the window and looked outside. The crowd might have increased since he’d entered, or perhaps it was just the change in his perspective. The newsies formed a few packs among the onlookers, as close to the enforcer line as they could. They were trying to get someone to answer their questions. Marlot smiled. He could just imagine Trembor gesturing his opinion of them.
He walked out and closed the door. The next one, on the opposite wall, opened to a large bedroom. Again, the air was clear of any scent. The bed was made, and still held the scent of the occupant…no, occupants. More than one person had slept in it, but the other one’s scent was much older. Marlot smiled; he smelled sex mixed in. Good for them, he thought.
The attached bathroom had a well-used scratching post, so the owner was feline. The counter was bare. Again, signs of someone who liked order. All the fur maintenance products were placed in an orderly fashion in the cabinet behind the mirror.
He left the room and went to the last door. He opened it and looked onto a scene that contradicted the image he’d built of the owner. This room was chaos. The workout equipment was neatly arranged, but dirty towels were scattered around the room. He was amazed at the efficiency of the house’s air system; he couldn’t smell the reek coming off the towels until he stood close to them. It was the same as the second scent he’d picked up from the bed. So, the house’s owner wasn’t the one who’d used this room.
He looked at the closest machine. He had no idea what it was for. It was clear someone would sit and push on the grips, but he had no idea why. Machines like that were prey tools. He trained by fighting. Was she dating prey? To each their own, he thought. He studied the grip, and he could see clear claw marks in them. Few prey species had claws.
He went back to the stairs and up to the top floor. On reaching the top, he faced a door with a lock panel by the handle. This would lead outside, which he confirmed by looking out the small window.
He turned right and walked into a short hall, by a bench with empty hooks above it. Past the bench, the wall to his left—the exterior wall—had a curtain running all the way to the end.
He pulled the curtain aside and looked out on the back of the house. The yard was deep and well-kept, the grass trimmed short. The back was sparsely wooded with a path cutting through the trees. Closer to the house was a lone sunning chair on a patch of lawn.
Closing the curtain, he continued a few steps. The wall to his right ended. He turned and looked at one large space with little furniture. He saw the body on the floor, halfway between himself and a dining table, but ignored it for the moment.
The area to his left was a living area. It held a couch, two seats, and a video screen on the wall. Looking it over he felt like he was watching a picture from a housing site. It looked perfect, not one scratch on the back of the couch or the arms of the chairs. Again, the owner loved order.
He peered around the wall to his right and saw a clothes rack with a vest and a light jacket. Next to it stood another scratching post, although this one didn’t show any mark of use. Was it just for show? It might be a feline thing, although Trembor only kept a scratching post in his bathroom.
The back of the room held the kitchen on the left and an eating area on the right. The kitchen gave him the same feeling as the living space: it was perfect. There was a white slate top on the meat preparation table. He could see space for blood to pool from where he stood, but none of the stains that came from actual use. The fridge was spotless, as was the heater door.
The dining table, in contrast, showed use. The varnish on the wood had been worn down by years of plates, bowls, and hands rubbing on it. Marlot thought it was the one item in the house the owner had loved. Eight chairs circled it, and a purse had been left on it.
Now he went to the body.
He looked at it, her. Female cheetah. She was on her stomach, right arm stretched out toward the table. Her death hadn’t been instantaneous. She dragged herself, trying to reach, and he looked at where she was pointing: the table. Her purse, to call for help. The killer had either let her do it, knowing she wouldn’t make it or had already left.
He crouched next to the body and took out his pad. He looked at her again. “What a waste,” he sighed before turning on the recording program. “This is Registered Investigator Marlot Blackclaw, recording the visual examination of the body. No name yet. The body was a cheetah, female, approximately five-foot-eight, and weighing a hundred and ten pounds. The body is clad in a light brown business jacket.” He paused and pulled the sleeve away from the arm. “Over a white shirt, and a matching knee-length skirt. She is still wearing her shoes, so she was attacked not long after arriving home. Those things look too uncomfortable for her to stay in any longer than needed.”
He paused the recording when he heard someone coming up the stairs. A red-brown mane came into view, followed by Trembor’s golden-furred face.
“What do you think?” Marlot asked the lion, indicating the body.
Trembor looked around and joined him. “Well, I don’t think she did it to herself.”
Marlot chuckled. “That’s kind of obvious. Do you have a name?”
“Aiden Spottedfur. She was thirty-two.”
“Did the first officer on the scene catalog her ID?”
Trembor shook his head.
“Maybe we’ll be lucky then. It’s possible her killer just hasn’t gotten around to paying her PRT.”
Trembor leaned in over the body and sniffed it.
Marlot wasn’t surprised; even with his keener nose, he hadn’t smelled anything standing up.
“Smells like she’s been dead for a few days. What do you think, three? That’s a long time to wait to pay her Productivity Tax.”
“Just being hopeful. If he was planning on paying it, he would have taken the body.” Marlot started recording again. “The body’s name is Aiden Spottedfur, and the smell test approximates the time of death at three days. Now checking the pockets for contents.” The only thing they contained was her ID wallet. “Her ID has been found. This is now officially a tax evasion case.”
“Her rating is going to be high,” Trembor said. “She worked for Arcas.”
Marlot had to think about it for a moment. “They’re the ones who came out with that synthetic meat that’s actually edible, aren’t they?”
Trembor nodded. “Everyone who worked there saw a sharp increase in their rating when that stuff started selling.”
“I can’t stand the stuff,” The wolf mumbled. He called up the Productivity Rating Database on his pad. It checked the pad was authorized, then requested his access code. When that was confirmed, the scanner on his pad came on, and he scanned Aiden’s ID.
A moment later her information appeared on his pad, including her rating. “Take a look at it,” Marlot gasped, lifting his pad so Trembor could read it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rating this high.”
“No wonder,” the lion said in amazement. “She didn’t just work at Arcas, she was their vice president.”
Marlot read her information and confirmed it. That indeed explained the number. “Who contacted the enforcers?”
Trembor took out his own pad. “Her secretary. This was the third morning that Aiden didn’t show up. When she didn’t answer her pad, he checked the Claimed ID Registry. Aiden wasn’t listed there, so he came here. All the doors were locked, but the curtains were open. That’s when he saw the body. The enforcers closed them to prevent the newsies from peeking in.”
“It lines up with the scent of death.” The wolf stood and stretched.
He was entering the number for Jaxca, their medical examiner, on his pad when something fell behind him. He and Trembor spun around and stared at the jackal standing by the door, sports bag plopped at his feet.
