Nick until the train sped out of the station and gathered speed.

And it was gone.

Nick stopped in front of the door of the Forensics Department in the basement corridor of Precinct 1. He listened with a smile on his face.

"Yush, my widdle catalysts! Be vewy good and speed up the desalination for mommy and she'll let you wide in the centwifuge machine."

Nick held a chuckle behind his paw. A cute chemist talking to her reagents. Now he'd seen it all.

"Who's a good widdle liposoluble organic compound? Yush, you are! Yush, you are my pwetty widdle dichlorobenzene phosphate."

Nick knocked gently on the door. Steps were heard crossing the lab. The door opened and a lovely bespectacled figure greeted him.

"Officer Wilde!" said Amber Beverly Latrans, the coyote girl that he and Judy had helped during the incident that folks had dubbed the 'crooked carnival caper'.

She blushed profusely as he walked in, her paws fidgeting with the notepad she was carrying.

"Such a pleasant surprise... I thought you were on leave," said Amber.

"I am. But I needed your help with something," said Nick.

"Oh, anything. Anything at all, Officer Wilde. I'm all yours."

She blushed crimson.

"Um... meaning... I am here to help... in anything... you may require... that I may be of assistance in…"

"I know I can always count on you, Amber," said Nick kindly. "I need you to analyse this for me."

He held up the hermetic bag with the withered carrot he had gotten from the Hopps farm.

"Oh, poor thing!" said Amber, taking the bag in her paw. "I've never seen a carrot look so sad."

"I'd like to know if there's something wrong with it, like a virus or chemical," said Nick. "The farmers say it's black rot, but I have my doubts."

"Sure, leave it to me," said Amber, taking the carrot and putting it into a refrigeration unit behind her. "I'll get to work on it right away. Results maybe tomorrow, afternoonish to evening, give or take a few hours."

"Thank you, Amber," said Nick. "You're the best and you know it."

Amber blushed even deeper crimson and turned around, fidgeting with her paws.

"I'm always here for you, Officer Wilde," said Amber. "Um… meaning… you know where to find me… if you ever need me, you know I'm here, and willing… to help, that is..."

"I do. And I can't thank you enough," said Nick, putting his paw on her shoulder. "It's great to have you on the team."

If there was a hitherto unknown shade of deep crimson, Amber had just invented it. She looked up into Nick's green eyes, barely able to breathe.

"Well, I'd better get going," said Nick.

"Sure," said Amber, walking him to the door. "Um, have a nice day...er, afternoon, as it were, Officer Wilde. I'll call you when I have results."

"Okay. Do you have my number?"

"I got it from Clawhauser. Oops! Um...I mean..." she stammered, very flustered.

"Great! I'll be expecting your call," said Nick with a smile and waved goodbye.

"Goodbye, Officer Wilde!" said Amber. "Stop by anytime."

As Nick walked up the stairs from the basement to the entrance hall, he chuckled to himself.

"I sure hope she keeps a fresh pair of panties in her locker."

A whiskery old walrus was sitting on a wooden park bench in front of a picnic table, with a chess board ready in front of him. From time to time he took a swig from a hip flask which he kept in his breast pocket.

The walrus looked up and saw someone familiar. A fox in dark blue joggers and a grey hoodie with the letters 'ZPD' printed on the front in blue was walking along the paved park path with a pastry bag in one paw. The fox smiled and waved, approaching the walrus.

"Nicholas Wilde," said the walrus, smiling brightly behind his bushy whiskers.

"Wallace Tuskington," said Nick. "Just the bloke I was looking for."

"How long has it been?"

"Too long," said Nick, sitting down across the table from the walrus.

"Where've you been spending your time, you old pirate? For a while, I thought the earth had swallowed you."

"Ah, you know how it is," said Nick. "Life. You get caught up. But I haven't forgotten you, and I know you haven't forgotten Mollie."

Nick put the pastry bag in front of the walrus named Wallace.

"You shouldn't have," said Wallace. "I mean really."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Your cholesterol and all that," said Nick with a wry smirk. "Whatever. A guy's got the right to his pleasures from time to time."

"You're damn right he does," said Wallace with a grin, taking the pastry bag in his flipper and opening it.

Inside was a delicious-looking chocolate éclair. The walrus took it out and bit the corner, savouring the wonderful creamy pastry.

"Ah, Mollie Moo, that marvellous little minx," said Wallace. "Nobody in town makes 'em like she does. If I were forty years younger…"

"She'd be a widow by now," said Nick teasingly.

"Touché," said Wallace, taking a generous bite of éclair.

"So, Wally. Word on the street is there's a new player in town," said Nick, casually moving the white pawn on the board two spaces forward, starting a new chess match.

"Yeah?" said Wallace, moving his black pawn in response and cramming more éclair into his mouth. "I might have heard a thing or two through the grape vine. Been shaking up the warehouse district, this new kid on the block."

"Yep," said Nick, moving his knight. "Shame about old Capri."

"Poor old devil," said Wallace, moving another pawn. "Went completely berserk. Ain't no more job security for anyone nowadays, I tell you. You work for thirty seven years, give your life's blood to a company, and still they flush you out like you're some college summer jobber, at their whim. Still, doesn't justify what he did."

"Yeah, I was sorry to witness that unfortunate event," said Nick, moving his bishop. "He'll be locked away for quite a while, I'm afraid."

"Sucks to be him," said Wallace, moving his own bishop. "Still, there's plenty of places he could have gone."

"Clayton Cosgrove has always taken care of his employees," said Nick, moving his queen a few spaces. "Good benefits, weekends off, paid vacation…he was an exemplary employer. Doesn't really make sense he'd suddenly be bought out."

"Well, Clayton Cosgrove didn't want to be bought out, from what I heard. More of a…had to be bought out."

"You saying they made him an offer he couldn't refuse?"

"I ain't saying that's what it is," said Wallace, downing the rest of his éclair in one go. "I'm saying that's what I heard."

"Hmm…that makes things a heck of a lot more interesting," said Nick. "Seems like a bit of trouble, this new rich kid on the block."

"Aye, a bit of trouble. About that size."

Wallace jerked his head to the left and Nick turned his eyes in that direction. Above the trees, in the distance, he saw the shining apex of a building. It looked pristine from where they were sitting.

"Pre-fab, they say," said Wallace, moving his rook. "Slapped it together in four months flat, just like building blocks. Tax exemptions could buy a small country. I sure would love to know how those bloody lawyers work their magic. I can't even buy a quart of brandy without dishing out an extra flipperful of dimes."

"Well, they know the law like the pads of their paws and know all the workarounds and loopholes," said Nick, moving his queen.

"If I knew the way around my wife like that, maybe we'd still be together," said Wallace with a wry grin.

"Spilled milk, old friend," said Nick, moving his rook. "No use lingering on it."

Wallace moved his other rook.

"So, that's their headquarters?" asked Nick.

"Yup," said Wallace. "Fancy place, fit for a king, or so I'm told. Topmost office has golden bathroom appliances, from what I heard. Must make warming the seat mighty difficult."

"I'm sure the CEO has his private seat warmer standing ready at all times," joked Nick, moving his queen. "Anything else?"

"Naw, that's about it," said Wallace.

"Aww, too bad. Because I came prepared," said Nick.

From out of nowhere, he suddenly produced another pastry bag and put it on the side of the chess board.

"You really do want to kill me, don't you, Nick?" said Wallace chuckling as he took the bag in his flippers.

"Naw, if I'd wanted to off you, I'd have brought you Mollie's strawberry pound cake. That would really give your arteries a pounding."

"Fair enough. You know, I just might have that the day before my funeral," said Wallace as he took a second éclair out of the pastry bag and took an enormous bite.

"Well, don't make it too soon, alright?" said Nick. "I might still need your help in a not-too-distant future. You can never have too many allies in my line of work."

"Well, you just keep bringin' the good stuff, then," said

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