#constable ogol

[big-bad-a-detective-story]

Chapter 08

While the cops had been called, it was the local news station that got there first. The once empty woods was suddenly full of people peeping, pleading to procure a parable from my personage. Of course, top priority belonged to the victims of the whole ordeal. While I had been busy thwarting the likes of Larry Lemonade, Felix DID find another entrance to the cave.

And with it, Red and Maybelle Fawcett tied and gagged in the back room.

But that hardly mattered now. My more sociable sidekick had set on making them tea to relax their nerves, and once reporters arrived on the scene I had set on retelling the tale with every passion within me!

Unfortunately, the police had arrived shortly afterwards, and with it… taking my attention away from the lovely redhead fluttering her lashes my way. I was prepared to make a fuss about it. Who dared to interrupt the hero who had cracked open the lid on the whole case and thwart the thief?!

It was our old pal Constable Ogol who wanted my testimony first. Her glare was intense, and I’m sure the smug grin on my face wasn’t helping the matter any. But could you blame me? She HAD called me useless the last we spoke!

“Well well well, if it isn’t the Constable.” I greeted her. “ Last we spoke, I believe you were working on a case of your own.  How did that go for ya, mac?”

The way she glared down at me, a puff of smoke exiting her nose as she snorted, told me it hadn’t gone well. I’ll admit, her sour mood may have felt kind of nice this time around.

“So, we had the wrong wolf.” She admitted, and I almost couldn’t believe it.

“You’re darn right you had the wrong wolf!” Her frown deepened and she took out her little notepad and began asking her questions.

“Larry Lemonade, huh? What did he want the Fawcetts for?”

She knew why! I’m sure she must have been briefed on the whole ordeal. And if not, well, there were very few reasons anybody snatched up anyone, I suppose. No matter, I wasn’t about to turn down another retelling of my heroic deeds.

“Ransom, naturally. He knew Maybelle’s son just so happened to be pretty well off, and no doubt planned to squeeze him for every dime he had.”

“Uh huh. And how, pray tell, did you figure this out? How did you even find this guy?”

At this I momentarily stumbled. I.. wasn’t exactly keen on sharing the fact I may have dug my own grave, with getting tied to Rumpelstiltskin. But surely she didn’t need to know all that… right? 

Right.

I straightened myself up, making myself look broader as I wagged my head with pride.

“Well, if you must know, I took inspiration from you.”

“Me?” 

Now this clearly caught the ogress off guard. And I must admit, the way it made her face light up in youthful surprise will be enough to keep me fueled with my gloating for some time to come.

“Yes, you.” I looked at my claws, inspecting them as if the conversation was trite-- a huge contrast to the giddiness I could barely contain. “ It was you that suggested meeting friends down at the pub. Mentioned meeting mutuals meandering about with information. You didn’t believe he was behind the crime, but seeing as I knew it wasn’t me… I had nothing to lose.”

This was followed by a grumble, as Constable Ogol was busy jotting down my every word-- and I could tell she was hating it all the while. Especially as she had to ask her follow up:

“How, exactly, did you apprehend the suspect?”

Ah, my favorite question! I flashed the constable my best smile and answered her inquiry.

“Larry Lemonade was no match for my wit, my muscle...” I pulled out my trusty tranquilizer gun, being careful not to point it at her, and patted it affectionately. “Or my sharp shooting. Yup! One dart from this baby and he was out like a light.”

I took this moment to, perhaps a bit foolishly, spin said gun around my furred finger ... and regretted it a moment later when I heard it fire and felt a sharp pain in my foot. I glanced down, my moment in the proverbial sun extinguished along with the light fading from my vision.

“That’s… not good.” I slurred, even as I found myself falling face first into darkness-- and no doubt into the arms of the looming annoyed ogress.

The case of HOW I got home after the embarrassing fumble… well. Let’s just say that was a mystery for another day.

Right now I earned a well deserved nap.

THE END

[darkwingsnark]

Constable Ogol:  a no nonsense cop who isn’t up for the Big Bad Wolf’s shenanigans. Children’s book concept art.

[big-bad-a-detective-story]

CHAPTER 04

“And, well, I guess you know the rest.” I finished retelling my tale to the constable across from me. They had me set up in a dimly lit room, light hanging overhead like the most cliche interrogation room you can imagine.

Interrogating a detective. Can you believe it? The mere notion is outright absurd. I was innocent, but this broad was going to do her best to prove otherwise, I could tell. Well, I wasn’t going to crack. I knew I wasn’t to blame, and I had my own case to get back to.

I’d be lying if I said the constable’s hard, deadpan stare hadn’t set me a little on edge. I don’t think her expression changed once during my recollection, I’m not even certain she’d blinked.

She leaned forward over the table now, her chair making a loud groaning noise that cut through the silence the end of my story had left. The shadows cast across her face from the overhead light were effective. 

Ah. I was beginning to understand their decor choices.

“So let me get this straight...” The constable’s words were gruff and deliberate, no doubt from years of forming words around those tusks of hers. “You’re choosing to have, on record, that you actually thought that an eight year old child-- who was off delivering food on behalf of her parents-- was a part of a crime syndicate? THAT’S the story you want to go with?”

Well… when she phrased it like that…

“I don’t know what you want from me, lady--”

“Constable Ogol.” She sternly interrupted. I continued onward with a roll of my eyes.

“Constable Ogol, then. But the point remains, you weren’t there! You didn’t SEE the look this motley cast of characters carried. The air of villainy! ”

The officer gave a slight nod at this, as she picked up the file left on the table between us.

“Speaking of witnesses, let’s talk about what Mr. Bouchard saw.” 

“Who?”

Ogol gave me a look so sharp, she could have butchered me on the spot with her gaze alone. She didn’t look impressed, as she opened up the file.

“The Woodsman, Wolf.”

Hearing your name coming from the cops was never pleasant-- even on a good day-- but somehow this broad made it sound worse as she showed me the contents of the folder. Pictures from the crime scene, and lots of them. Each one picked up and laid out as if it was supposed to inspire guilt. Ha! Fat chance at that!

“An awful mess,” a grunt, another photo slapped down. “Everything but chairs upturned or destroyed.”

“You know, I was just as suspicious about that!” I cried out enthusiastically, practically leaping from my seat as I grabbed the photo of a classic wooden chair. I stroked my furry lip in thought. “Who wrecks a house and then goes ‘no thanks’ on the easiest furniture to throw? It doesn’t make any sense!”

Constable Ogol, however, wasn’t as thrilled to hear what I had to say on the matter. I got that impression quite clear as she shoved me back into my stool. One hurt was traded for another as she dismissed my brilliant observation.

“You think this is a game, don’t you? Putting on an ugly hat to call yourself a ‘detective’, and think I’d play along?”

 I wanted to defend my fedora, but for some unfathomable reason… I felt as though it wasn’t the time. I was proved to be right as the officer got up from her chair and began to stalk around me-- hands behind her frame with an unnatural air of posture for an ogre. She stopped once behind me, looming overhead and placing a hand on each of my shoulders. As some sort of intimidation tactic!

Unfortunately for me, it was working. Especially as she picked up another photo and shoved it into my snoot.

“If your story is true-- a hard feat on its own, I assure you, Wolf-- I want to know how THIS all could have happened without you thinking for a moment ‘perhaps I should alert the authorities’. If your intent had been for the sake of justice, where was it?”

She let go of me to sit on the table-- bending herself to be eye to eye.

“That’s why I don’t believe your story. Nobody would hear all that commotion and avoid getting backup.” I opened my mouth to protest-- Ogol took the liberty to close it with the snap of her hand wrapped around my jaw. “I don’t know how involved you are in this case, Wolf, but know that if I find even a SCRATCH on either one of the Fawcetts… I’ll personally hold you responsible.”

And with that the ogress let go of my face.

“Alright. You’re free to go, Norman.” The way she said the name sent a shiver of disgust down my spine. I think she somehow knew it, too, despite her stern expression never changing.  “We don’t have enough to charge you with. And while I would be more than happy to keep you overnight… My superiors don’t want wasted manpower on babysitting when we should be investigating.”

“I… what about Larry Lemonade?” I asked, feebly-- surprised more than anything over my dismissal. She raised a brow at this.

“Yes, you mentioned seeing him. However, his friends at ‘the Ugly Duckling’ give him an alibi. Their testimony means a bit more than yours.”

Ouch. Double ouch. If this lady wanted to kill me, I’d prefer she did it with her fists. Her words hurt more, leaving my ego in shatters as I trudged myself out of the station. She was right, you know. Absolutely correct with her assumption that I had hardly thought of the family’s safety. I knew I could be a stubborn guy, even downright terrible company-- but I wasn’t heartless! Just because I wasn’t a cop, didn’t play by the same rulebook, didn’t mean I didn’t care. I had nothing against kids and grandmothers!

But Constable Ogol was right all the same. I had let my pride get the better of me, and because of it I neglected the obvious…

I should have brought a gun.

And it was with that thought I was pounding my way down the cobbled streets. One thought, and one though alone, permeating my mind as I huffed and puffed my way through the village:

I had mine at home.