CHAPTER SEVEN
Wally and Mimi finally left, Mimi giving one last look at the bedroom before she closed the door. Their footsteps moved away, one set to the bedroom, the other downstairs. Only then did Nightbeat think it was fine to sit up. He glared at Angel and Spike. “If you start up again, I’ll beat the shit out of the both of you.”
Spike grunted a laugh. “Like t’see you try it, mate.”
Angel burned holes in Spike’s back with his eyes.
“Come on, Angel,” Nightbeat said. “Let’s finish your interview.” He headed back to the closet.
Angel took one more moment to stare Spike down. Spike made a kissy face and turned away. Finally, reluctantly, Angel followed Nightbeat and sat down.
“Forget about Spike,” Nightbeat said. “Where were you when Joey was murdered?”
Angel uttered a laugh. “I was with Spike.”
“Doing?”
“Arguing.”
Interesting. Nightbeat remembered that Spike had called it a discussion. “About?”
“Drinking human blood,” Angel said. “I’m against it. I’ll take an animal’s any day. Granted, it’s not as good, but I’m not hurting people.”
“Just animals?” Nightbeat asked.
“No. The animals are already dead. I buy their blood from a slaughterhouse. I mean, they’re not going to do anything with the blood anyway.”
“So you’re Spike’s alibi, then?”
Angel grimaced like he’d bitten into a chocolate chip only to discover too late it was a mouse turd. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Nightbeat said. “He said the same thing.”
“We agree about one thing, then,” Angel said.
“I’m about to say something, and I don’t want you to freak out on me talking shit about cutting open old scars.”
“I’m not working on this.”
Nightbeat sighed. “Fine. I don’t care. I just know that you used to be an investigator. I’d like your thoughts on Joey’s murder.”
“That sounds dangerously close to me working with you,” Angel said.
No flies on Mrs. Angel’s little boy. Or whatever the hell her name was. Time to change tactics. “I’m not asking for work,” Nightbeat said. “I’m asking for speculation. Surely you can talk to me about that.”
Angel let out a breath. “I wasn’t sure it was murder until you came back with some circumstantial evidence. Granted, I’m still not fully sold, but I’m inclined to lean toward your theory. I haven’t seen anything, myself. No one is talking about any details. No speculation.”
“If you had to guess who would have done it . . . ?”
“Every one of them out there—” Angel swept a hand to the closet door. “—would say that Cat is the obvious suspect. But that’s too easy an answer. I don’t know if he did it, but I can’t swear as to where he’d been when Joey died.”
“If it’s not Cat, who then?” Nightbeat asked.
Angel shrugged. “No one else would be capable of it. I could understand if Felix got drunk and accidentally did something, but I don’t really buy it, either. Jack Bunnyson can be a nasty piece of work, but he’s physically harmless, you know? Like there’s still a piece of Bunny in him.”
Nightbeat nodded. “Thank you for your help.”
Angel left, and Fox came in. Nightbeat did not suspect him for a minute, but he had to go through the motions. Besides, who knew what Fox might have seen? He might have caught a detail that escaped everyone else.
Fox sat. “Hello, Nightbeat. How is the investigation going?”
“Could be better,” Nightbeat said. “Where were you when Joey was murdered.”
“Trying to avoid Cat,” Fox said. “You know how he likes to torture me.”
Nightbeat nodded. Cat loved torturing everyone, but Fox in Sox was a special case. He was so innocent and adorable that Cat took a special interest in making him feel pain. “How?”
“I was trying to sneak into the toy box. Cat was on the prowl. I had to get out of sight.”
Prowl. Nightbeat found himself wishing that Joey’s parents had bought that Transformer. He was an officer of the law, cold and reasoning. Nightbeat sure could use someone like that right now.
“That’s when I heard Joey thumping down the stairs.” Fox sniffled, his eyes shining with tears. “It was so terrible. That’s when you saw me.” He wiped at his long snout. “We’re going to be thrown out, aren’t we?”
“I don’t think so,” Nightbeat said. “Joey’s parents are still young. They’ll probably try again. Worst case scenario, we go to charity. We’ll get picked up by more children. There’s no way we’re going in the trash.”
“I wish I was as optimistic as you,” Fox said. “I don’t want to go in the garbage. I’ll get bugs all over me. I’ll smell. Rats will probably unstuff me.”
Nightbeat put an arm around Fox’s shoulders. “Don’t think like that. You’re going to be fine. We all are.” Hoping he wasn’t telling a lie.
Fox nodded. “Thanks.”
“Thank you for your help.”
Fox stood and went to the closet door. He pushed it open ever so slightly, and there was Cat, waiting for him.
“Boo!”
“No!” Fox shrieked.
Cat pounced on him, biting into his belly. Though Cat didn’t have real teeth, the pain Fox felt was quite real. It sounded like meat being ripped off his bones.
“Stop! Leave me alone!” Fox screamed.
Cat grinned. “Shan’t.”
“Goddammit, Cat,” Nightbeat said. “Get off of him.”
“Oh no!” Cat sniggered. Then, with great swiftness, he bent Fox’s neck at an unnatural angle. They all heard a loud crack as Fox’s neck broke, and he died. Cat dragged him away, licking his lips.
Nightbeat sighed, burying his face in his hands. Fox would be all right in a bit. Whenever one of the toys died, they came back to life after a while. Usually about thirty minutes to an hour. It was like a cartoon. Tom might get chopped up or burnt to a crisp, but he always came back to chase after Jerry again.
Nightbeat wished that could have been the same way with Joey, but when humans died, they died for good. He wouldn’t have to go through this if Joey could only come back to life.
He steeled himself, readying for the next interview.
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