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Every crime scene tells a story.

That's what the movies all tell us. There's a whole mythology around police and crime and the investigation process... They tell us that everything is cause and effect, everything happens for a reason, every action leaves a trail, and every bad guy is held accountable. When you're six years old and your father, a decorated detective, tells you all that, why wouldn't you believe him?

_Kids are pretty easy to fool. And some people never grow up. Knowing the truth is always a burden not everybody wants.

Trust me._

*****

"This is a mess."

Hat in hand, the tall, blue-furred rat surveyed the crime scene laid out before him. The warehouse district of Skygate City wasn't anything particularly noteworthy--lots of riverfront properties, and this one in particular was under construction. The sun had barely risen and Cobalt had a styrofoam cup in his right hand, his hat in his left, standing over the body covered by a white sheet. He stood in relative silence as patrolmen and women worked at keeping workers out of the scene, both a part of and apart from the entire scene simultaneously.

"Who the hell let him in here?!" A gruff, angry voice echoed from several dozen yards behind him. Cobalt took a deep breath, putting his hat back on along with the most professional smile he could muster for being awake at sunrise.

"Good morning Detective Harris! Lovely day for a homicide."

"Don't 'good morning' me!" The leonine detective marched past the crime scene tape, his shield swayed back and forth as he stomped towards Cobalt. "I don't need you here."

"Nigel, please. Control yourself. There are civvies watching." His smile never broke, despite the fact that he was all but certain Harris would have physically thrown him into the river if no one was watching. To emphasize his point, Cobalt raised his styrofoam cup in the direction of the crowd of onlookers. At least one of them had a video camera emblazoned with the Channel 8 News logo.

Nigel clenched and unclenched his fists. "...you aren't needed here."

"Oh, I'd say I am. Besides, I've already been paid, and no backsies, Nigel. And while I was expecting Detective Williams and not you, well... It's just a morning of surprises for the both of us, now isn't it? Besides... should YOU really be here, knowing the victim and all?"

The detective opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat. Stuffing his left hand into his coat pocket, he offered the styrofoam cup to Nigel. "The ME told me. Detective 1st Grade Julia Owens. I remember her. You probably need this more than I do."

"...there's alcohol in that, isn't there."

"What do you take me for?" Cobalt looking genuinely hurt by the accusation. "Of COURSE there is. I'm not an animal."

Nigel took the cup, turned, and grabbed the arm of a passing officer with his free hand. "Get rid of this, will you?"

Cobalt sighed. "Still a nerd, I see." The rat turned and walked the rest of the way to the river. It wasn't particularly far--50 yards at best. Casually, he pulled a balloon out of his pocket and started to inflate it.

"If you're here to help, then help, dammit!"

"Nigel. I AM helping." He looked to his left, then to his right, then placed the inflated balloon on the water's surface. He didn't so much as look at Nigel or the confused police officers watching the pair. "Calm down. Run me through what you know."

Cobalt wasn't trying to be patronizing. He was sure Nigel would take it that way, though, and he slowly counted as he watched the ballook drift along the current.

"Four gunshot wounds, body dumped in the river. What else do y-"

"Nigel." Cobalt stood straight up and looked over his shoulder at Nigel. He didn't add anything, but there was a deadly serious look in his eye that didn't leave much room for interpretation. For a brief second, Nigel almost looked intimidated.

"The victim is Julia Owens, 27. Recently promoted to Detective 1st Grade with the Skygate PD. Shot four times in the chest. No signs of drowning. A construction worker found the body at 4 am and pulled her from the river."

Cobalt was listening, but none of this was new information to him. It was an old trick he often used on himself--talking through the facts as one knew them was the quickest way to bring things back into an objective light. Walking back over to the body, he pulled the sheet back. The wolfess was wearing typical attire for any plain-clothed officer, all things considered--a silver watch, her badge around her neck. One might not even know she was a cop except for the clear identification.

"And all her identification was here?"

"Yeah... nothing was taken."

"Mmm..." Cobalt looked across the entire lot. There really wasn't much to the crime scene at all. The situation was only made worse because Julia hadn't died there. Still, there was something about the scene that bothered him. "Hey. You."

Cobalt yelled across the lot at the cop who disposed of his spiked coffee. The officer blinked at the rat then looked around to make sure Cobalt was talking to him. "No, the other rookie stealing coffee from law-abiding citizens. YES YOU."

"But Detective Harris said..." The beagle shuffled over, the styrofoam cup long gone. He grumbled and scratched at his chin. Nigel waved it off and shook his head.

"Never mind that. You were first on the scene, weren't you?"

"Er... yeah, I was."

"I thought so! You've got that air of an overachiever about you. Just make sure you get laid or you'll end up barren like Nigel."

The officer's expression tightened as if he wasn't sure he was allowed to laugh. Detective Harris, on the other hand, was far less amused. "I'm married, you moron."

"Ah, so you are! And Miss Owens was set to be married, yeah?"

Nigel blinked. "Yeah. But how'd you know that?"

"That ring on her finger isn't for show. In fact..." He crouched over the body, taking a closer look at her right hand. "Looks like she went a couple of rounds with someone."

"But there's no way to tell who. Any real evidence would have been compromised by the river."

Cobalt nodded as the young officer spoke. He had a good point. But then... getting rid of evidence in the Argent River was disturbingly common. And the murder of a police officer in this particular seemed to fit a specific modus operandi.

"The Howlers?"

"That's what I'm thinking." Cobalt nodded. His whiskers twitched a bit as the corners of his mouth rose into a casual grin. "I mean... that's generally what you'd think looking at this, wouldn't you?"

"Why would you not?"

"I mean... it looks a lot like the Lunatic Brotherhood's hits, no?" It was a reasonable assumption tomake. For years, the group operated under two banners--the Sons of Silver and the Howlers. Some time in the last two, however, something happened to unify two dangerous canine gangs into a criminal organization--the Lunatic Brotherhood--that was only barely contained by the police. "Four shots to the chest. But the Brotherhood tends to cut the throats of their victims first. Four shots before they bleed out. Dump the body somewhere it'll almost certainly be found to send a message. No sign of that here."

"So they went off script. It might have had something to do with that whole corruption case she was working on..."

Cobalt scratched at his chin. A potential mob hit put into motion by a corrupt politician ending in the death of an officer. It was a neat, packaged story any journalist would have sunk their teeth into without question.

"Officer... what was your name again?"

"Vargas, sir."

"Officer Vargas. Would you mind if I borrowed your service weapon?"

"What?" The absurdity of the question caught both the beagle and Detective Harris off guard. "It's against regulations for me to just hand my weapon over to a civilian, sir."

"You know that, Coby. Why would you even ask?"

"You really want to know?" Cobalt's smug grin grew a little as he took a few steps towards the officer. "You're an interesting kid, Officer Vargas. How long have you been a cop?"

"Uh... three years? A little more than that..."

"And how long have you wanted to make detective?"

"...a while, I guess. I've taken the exam a couple of times..." The officer seemed a little embarrassed to say that out loud. Nigel put a hand on Cobalt's shoulder and started to say something, but the rat raised a single finger.

"And you and Julia are practically the same age. Did you know her?"

"Just professionally... I was helping her with her case."

"I can vouch for that," Nigel added.

"I'm sure you can, Nigel. But Officer Vargas here got here way before any officer could have reasonably responded to the dispatcher. That's quite the nose for someone who couldn't pass the exam."

"Hey." Suddenly. Nigel looked annoyed. "I know you're not accusing one of my officers of murdering one of their own."

"Well, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't. But I kind of wanted to see Officer Vargas here scramble for a reason why four bullets were absent from his service weapon."

"You've got to be kidding." Detective Harris shoved Cobalt and sighed, clearly aggravated. "See, I KNEW you being here was a waste of time."

Cobalt's smug grin never left, and Nigel was suddenly reminded of why he hated the rat so much... when he was this sure of himself, he was never wrong, and it was infuriating. "Fine. Officer Vargas, your weapon please."

The beagle stood there, frozen. The lion's expression went from one eager to put Nigel in his place to impatience at the officer's reluctance.

"Officer?"

"Oh, there ARE alternatives." Cobalt chimed in, his tone rather upbeat given the body less than 30 feet from where they were standing. "We could go and examine the scene where he dumped her. About half a mile up the river. There's a furniture maker up that way, right?"

"And before you claim I'm guessing, I have to ask how you missed that cedar small all over her clothes. Water isn't just gonna wash that off. Or, at least, it wouldn't if she was only in the water for a couple of hours."

"...you're wrong... I didn't..." He was stammering over his words, which only served to aggravate Nigel more. The more Cobalt spoke, the more sense he made, and yet he couldn't believe one of his own officers could possibly do something so depraved.

"Vargas. Your weapon. NOW."

"I... I'm sorry... This wasn't supposed t-" Vargas never got the rest of his sentence out before the lion nailed him squarely in the face with a wild right, flooring the smaller officer. It might have been worse of Cobalt didn't grab him, pulling hi backward.

Officers nearby had heard enough to put Vargas in handcuffs as Cobalt tried to keep the detective from ripping Vargas apart. It took several minutes for him to calm down, even as they hauled the beagle away for formal questioning.

"Get off me!" Nigel broke free of Cobalt's grip, chest still heaving with a righteous rage. "How. How the hell did you know?"

"Oh, I had him pegged from the beginning. He didn't look at her, not once. And the way he was hovering all morning was just creepy. He passed by here at least 5 times in 30 minutes.

"So the whole thing was made to look like some mob hit,,," Nigel rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

"Yes. But do you really think that kid is bright enough to come up with that on his own?" Cobalt sighed, patting Nigel on the shoulder as he walked by, starting to head back to his car beyond the crime scene tape.

"Where are you going now?"

"It's early and I'm starting to sober up. I caught the bad guy; my job is done. You get to do the hard part now."

Cobald waved as he walked away, his free hand stuffed in his pocket. Nigel didn't even say a word as he pulled a silver flask out of that pocket.

"Happy hunting, Detective Harris!"

The investigator ignored the crowd beyond the tape, press and all. When he did look up at a reporter shoving a microphone into his face, he smiled, took a long swig from the flask, and kept walking without so much as breaking the rhythm of his step. Parked well away from the warehouse, he let the noise fade into the background as he slid into the worn old Mustang.

He put both hands on the wheel and gripped it as if he might fall off the world if he let go. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. The flash of measurements, numbers, and diagrams were already starting to fade. Deep breaths followed... inward, then outward, then the cycle began anew until all of it was gone.

The cellphone in his passenger seat rang.

"...Cobalt Alders, Blue Note Investigations."

"Dude, you sound terrible." The male voice on the other end of the line was both concerned and brutally honest. Somehow it helped Cobalt relax.

"I feel terrible."

"Where are you now?"

"Wrapping up that thing at the warehouse district for Chief Barton."

"...did you do the thing?"

Cobalt sighed, taking another lengthy drink. "...yeah. Id did 'the thing'. I wish you'd stop calling it that."

"Fine. fine. Just checking on you. You went on a bender the last time you let loose, so..."

"Uh huh. Thanks Mom." Cobalt hung up and tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat. His headache was subsiding, his anxiety gone. Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he shoved them into the ignition and was on his way without so much a second thought. The day had barely begun and he wanted it to be over.

Trust me. No one who actually knows the truth ever honestly ASKS to see it.