Sole Wolfess and Kid
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel and Walter Reimer

(The Sole Wolfess and Aedith ‘Sunny’ Winterbough are courtesy of E.O. Costello. Thanks!)
Thumbnail art © RAI – Tokyo Movie Shinsha, reproduced under Fair Use

Part Twenty-two.



“How’s that?” I growled.

The shrubbery I’d just clipped shook, and with a moaning masculine sigh it toppled over, revealing a feline tail and a pair of footpads.

One of the others gave a grunt of disapproval. Female voice, it sounded like.

The other grumbled something indistinct in a gruff masculine tone.

Aedith laughed. “I LIKE them, Mommy! They’re SILLY!”

I gestured with the blade. “Come on, you two. Defoliate yourselves.”

Sure enough, it was the feline femme that I’d seen at the flower show, and the grumpy-looking and slightly disheveled mel. That left the nattily-dressed one out cold at my feet.

The mel was still grumbling. “We would’ve gotten away with it, too,” the gray one grumbled, “if it wasn’t for that meddling kid.”

Aedith giggled, and I smiled proudly.

She’ll go far, she will.

“Aedith?”

“Yes, Mommy?”

“Go find a Guard, and ask him to hurry over here, please.” My daughter ran off, and I turned as one of the two still-conscious bushes finished casting aside her disguise. She had creamy white fur and red headfur, and she was wearing a knee-length skirt and a blouse. Not bad-looking, either, if a trifle thin –

No.

Bad Missy. No biscuit.

[Note appended to manuscript: “’A trifle thin?’ Have you looked at yourself lately?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]

“Loopy, all you had to do was stay still and shut up,” she declared, eyes closed tightly and fists balled at her sides as the unconscious one began to stir.

“’Loopy?’” I asked the gray one.

He shrugged and stuck an unlit tube of pipe-weed in his mouth. “By name and nature,” he said with a slight growl. He jammed a hat over his eyes and a three-pointed asterisk appeared near his forehead as the femme poked the third one with a toe.

That got Loopy up so fast that I thought he’d pooked. He leaped clean out of his disguise, a nimbus of rays backlighting him as he jumped up and down, waving his arms so rapidly that I thought he might be trying to fly.

I was appreciative of the breeze, though.

“How could I stay still when she starts waving a sword around!?” he shouted, his jaw dropping to somewhere near his chest as he spoke. “I could have been killed!”

The gray one muttered, “We should be so lucky . . . “

“What am I going to do with you?” the femme asked, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down and away.

“Ah, Tortellini,” the natty cat suddenly gushed, the pupils of his eyes turning into little heart shapes. I began to suspect that twits have their own version of Gramerye. “Would that you return my love for you! I’d gladly show you what you could do with me,” he said as he took several steps over empty air, paws clasped to his right shoulder as he puckered up for a kiss and floated over to her –

BOOOIIINNNNNGG!

Only to be flung against the side of a building on the next block as a boxing glove struck him in the face. The glove was attached to a spring that appeared to have its origin between the girl’s (Tortellini’s? Odd name) breasts.

Note to self: Don’t make a pass at her.

Loopy reappeared, on his knees in front of the femme and clutching his nose while a huge teardrop hung from his hairline. The gray one merely facepalmed.

“What’s your name?” I asked. “Are you his keeper or something?”

“Name’s Griss,” the mel replied, looking up momentarily to scratch at the fringe of black beard along his jawline. “Someone has to keep him outta trouble, lady.”

“Doing a poor job of it, aren’t you?”

At these words, he pulled his hat back down over his eyes and leaned back against the wall, sulking as the sound of whistles grew louder.

My daughter’s a fine, Elf-ly fur; she’d managed to round up an even half-dozen Guards, and they came at a dead run led by a figure in plainclothes but sporting a badge. The leader pulled to a halt.

Too quickly, it appeared.

The six Guards promptly fell all over him, resulting in a blacksmith shop-like clangor. We all waited as, with shouts and muffled curses (there was a child present, after all) the forces of the law sorted themselves out.

Sunny had brought up the rear, and she trotted up to stand beside me. “Did I do good, Mommy?”

I stooped and gave her a nuzzle. “Yes, you did good, darling.”

The plainclothes fur, a canine, was someone I recognized. “Deputy Inspector Dater, I presume?” I asked.

Les Dater jerked the lapels of his overcoat into line and glowered at me. “You lot again?”

“Just me – and my daughter.”

He gave Aedith a smile before scowling at the three felines. “And them?”

I explained that I’d had a run-in with B.E. Moth, who had dropped a copper on the trio. “There’s an article in the papers about the discovery of two of the old Royal Messenger rings,” I said, “and I heard him talking about how he couldn’t believe that they’d gotten it.”

Dater glared at the trio. “Well? Elves Don’t Lie, I remind you.”

Loopy fiddled with his coat cuffs. “Well . . . we only got one – “

“YOU IDIOT!” Tortellini screamed, suddenly baring a mouthful of fangs that seemed larger than her actual head, coupled with pupil-less eyes that reminded me of the Duchess of Daisies. She ranted at Loopy, who hung his head with a sheepish look as another huge sweat-drop accumulated near his head.

“What do these rings look like?” I asked.

Dater shrugged. “Only what I hear. Gold, trimmed in mithril, with an inscription.”

One of the Guards suddenly piped up and recited:

"These Rings belong to the House of Sulfrox
And if you try to nick one, you’ll end up in a box!
It’s made of pure gold, with fine mithril
If you blow on the whistle, the note is quite shrill
If you break it or lose it, it can’t be remade
If found, send to Eastness – postage prepaid!"

“’You’ll end up in a box’ – you were risking death to get one of the rings for Moth?” I asked.

Griss snorted. “There’s no House of Sulfrox any longer,” the gray feline growled. “Finders, Keepers applies – “

“The law’s still on the books,” Dater said.

All three felines’ jaws fell open, actually hitting the pavement momentarily.

“But,” Tortellini gasped, “Moth said – “

“Moth prides himself on being Unseelie,” I pointed out. “Where is he?”

“We don’t know,” Loopy said, turning out his pockets for emphasis.

“All right,” Dater said. He gestured to two of the Guards with him. “Take ‘em away and book ‘em.”

The sergeant flicked his ears. “Beg your pardon, Inspector?”

The canine glowered at the officer. “Sergeant Takumaway and Corporal Bookem,” he said, enunciating every syllable clearly, “arrest these three and take them to Headquarters for questioning.”

“Oh! Right,” and the two collected pawcuffs and moved in to take the trio into custody.

“The fruit of crime makes nasty jam,” Aedith said as they were led away, and she giggled as I petted her between her ears.

A fitting end to the proceedings, but this wasn’t the end of it.

B.E. Moth had one, possibly both, of the rings, for what fell purpose I couldn’t figure out. Of course, there was one way to find out, and that was to hunt him down and ask him.

With appropriate physical persuasion, naturally.






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