Just an FYI for this, btw; for those unschooled in French, Poisson is pronounced "PWASS-on." you can take the spelling similarity to "poison" however you like.

Couldn't think of a quote for this; I guess I'll just let the chapter speak for itself.

Judy was only too glad to get back above ground, and she took a deep breath when she was at last back in the daylight. Well, she had a promise of the farms' records – on her carrot pen as well, if it came to that – and a file in hand on one of the main suspects. That was a start, and... she checked the clock. Even better, she thought, I'll make it to pick up Nick with time to spare. That by itself was enough to put a smile on her face; today she and Nick were due to meet with Chief Bogo about getting him started on the road to being a cop. Who knows? she thought to herself as she merged onto one of the highways. He might even know something about Poisson.

Finding Nick proved to be a challenge; the area around the courthouse, which was situted on the edge of Meadowlands, was a mess of mammals in every size and species. Many of them waved to her, recognizing her as the town hero. Much as all that attention bugged her at times, she had to admit it made for a nice change from the last time she'd been there. There had been several long lines of those who had been in the receiving end of her stint as meter maid. Smiling at the change, Judy reflected that it really had been best that those days were short-lived – for everyone's sakes.

Then she spotted him sitting on a bench, alternating bites of a burger from Chez Cheese and a popsicle. He didn't seem to notice her as she pulled into the nearest parking space and honked. "Hey Junior!" she called, rolling down the window on his side.

"Hey Carrots," he replied calmly, finishing off the last of the popsicle.

Judy raised an eyebrow. "Really, Nick? On the way to meet Bogo?"

"What? I bought it – and yes, this one was legit," he added as he climbed in. At her insistence, he had abandoned his striped tie and Hawaiian shirt for a navy blue tie and a white shirt – generic enough to avoid being pretentious, but professional enough to subtly say, "Hire me."

Judy made for the highway, and Nick discreetly slipped the popsicle stick into his pocket after sucking off the last of the juice.

"You're not going to sell that off at a rodent construction site, are you?" asked Judy.

Nick tried not to let his reaction show. She is good, he thought. "For your information, I make pencil cups out of these in my free time," he told her.

She glanced briefly at him with one raised eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

He rolled his eyes and pulled out the stick, preparing to throw it out the window.

"Littering's a $500 fine," she reminded him quickly.

He put it away again. "Fine," he said grumpily. "I'll keep it as a memento of how annoying you are."

"Ah, you know you love every minute of it," she quipped right back. Then, getting serious, she added, "So, you feeling ready for a fresh start?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered. Then, lest she ask how his time at the courthouse went, he asked, "So what was it you were doing again?"

"Investigating leads on the missing suspects from the Bellwether Conspiracy," she answered. "Got a promising lead on Doug Woolard – you remember, the one in the gas mask?"

"How could I forget?" asked Nick. That five minutes had been the most almost-literlly-heartstopping period of his pretty crazy life.

"That reminds me," Judy went on, "you said you know everyone, right?"

He rubbed his knuckles on his shirt. "Everyone," he replied cooly.

"Including, say, Olivia D. Poisson?"

"Olivia Poisson..." he muttered, almost as if he were trying the name in his mouth like a wine expert studying a flavor. Then he stopped, and his green eyes popped. "Wait, as in Pwasson's Passion? That Olivia Poisson?"

Judy nodded, and Nick let out a low whistle. "Wow, you aren't leaving any stone unturned, are you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, mostly that she's one of the few people I don't know. They say she throws good parties, but even I couldn't charm my way into one."

Judy's expression fell.

"I mean," Nick went on, "I know a few rumors about her – like, say, that a reporter was involved in an 'accident' when he tried to do an exposé on her, or that she buys controlling interests in companies around the country to keep a lid on competition – you know, things like that."

"Anything substantial?"

He shrugged. "'Fraid not, Carrots."

"No, it's fine," she said half-heartedly. "Everyone's got limits."

Nick wished he could have helped more – but at least he'd kept the topic off of-

"So, how did things go at the courthouse?"

Darn it, she's good, he thought. "Well, I talked to a few friends, pulled a few strings, and..." he trailed off.

"And?" she pressed.

"And if, hypothetically, someone like me needed to get around a charge of tax evasion, it would be impossible unless a state judge ordered their records sealed or expunged."

Judy winced. "That's not easy, is it?"

"No – but it's not impossible. And since I happened to help save the city from going to you-know-where in a handbasket, there's hope."

"Then you're in?"

"All I need is an official to put in a good word for me."

Judy smiled. "Well, I just happen to know an official who'd be willing to do that."

Nick's smile dropped. "Uh, I kind of asked about that. Turns out you wouldn't cut it."

"Oh."

He shrugged. "Well, like you said, everyone's got limits."

Their conversation was halted by a call over the radio. "Dispatch to all cars: we have complaints of an erratic driver on Route 9 southbound, just past Tojunga. Over."

"It's To-hun-ga," Nick corrected mechanically.

Judy shook her head and picked up the radio. "Dispatch, this is Car 31; we're en route. Over."

"I thought we had an appointment with Chief Hornhead," Nick countered as Clawhauser's voice confirmed what Judy had just said.

Judy shrugged as she returned the radio to its hook. "It's on our way, and this shouldn't take long."

Nick shrugged right back and popped in some earbuds.

Judy was right; it was only a matter of minutes before the car came into sight, weaving crazily across the yellow lines. It was easy enough to spot; all the other cars were giving it plenty of space. Judy reached for a switch and flicked on the flashers, signaling the swerving driver to pull over. After at least two minutes of unchanged erratic zig-zagging, the driver noticed and quickly pulled to the side.

Parking behind the suspected car, Judy radioed in the situation as per protocol before she hopped out and walked up to the car. Once she got there, however, she discovered a problem: she couldn't reach the window.

I seriously need to look into stilts, she thought, debating between the equal and opposite indignities of jumping up and down while she questioned the driver or simply knocking on the car door.

The driver saved her the choice by opening a window and looking out, obviously wondering where the cop who had pulled her over went. It was a vixen with light orange fur and puzzled blue eyes.

"Down here," the rabbit called.

The vixen whipped her head downward so quickly that she almost whacked her chin on the door. "Huh?!"

Judy folded her arms and tapped her foot, trying to look commanding in spite of her stature. "Are you aware that you were all over the road, ma'am?"

"Oh; um..." the vixen looked as though she were still stuck on the part where a rabbit pulled her over. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I was singing along with a CD, and I kind of..."

"Mm-hm," Judy nodded, holding up a paw. "License, please?"

Nick pulled out his earbuds as Judy slipped back into the car to check the license. "What's going on?" he asked. He might have said more, but at that moment he got a look at the picture on the little plastic card.

Judy shrugged. "Distracted driving by the look of it. She was all over the road, but I didn't smell anything on her breath." Her eyes were fixed on the screen of a tablet mounted on the dashboard as she punched in the license number and studied the results. "Hm. Nothing major on her record..."

She turned to Nick, only to find him nowhere in sight. "Nick where did-?" Then she spotted him and smacked herself in the face. He was standing by the vixen's car, leaning one elbow on it in a very casual manner and chatting with the occupant.

Judy thought about reading him the riot act, then decided to try a more subtle approach. She walked up behind Nick, who was in the midst of asking if the vixen – Judy had noted her name was Taelia from the license – was having car trouble,

"Okay, Junior Detective," she chided loudly and clearly, "I'll take it from here."

Nick was plainly horrified as Taelia slowly asked, "Junior Detective?"

"Yes," Judy affirmed, stepping around Nick and nudging him with her hip. "Back to the car; I'll take it from here."

The look on his face was priceless. She knew

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