When Nathaniel came by with their bill, she thanked him for his information about Thomas Springfield and included a generous tip along with her half of the tab. She suspected that Bradley Marvel was the type of creature who didn’t tip—he most likely assumed that the pleasure of waiting on him was compensation enough. Vera informed the wolf that she had paid her half of the check and was going to the restroom. She wasn’t sure if he had heard her, but she slipped from her seat and quickly exited the restaurant through the back door.
Vera felt almost giddy as she made her escape. She slipped down the alley from the back of the Blue Umbrella to the sidewalk. She looked around to see what other shops made up the business district of Highbank. Almost directly across the street she spotted a theater. According to the marquee, the current production was The Taming of the Shrew. The outside ticket window was empty, so she opened the door to the lobby. The play must have already started, as she could hear dramatic voices from beyond the inner doors.
However, in the lobby, a bored-looking squirrel stood behind a beautifully constructed bar with wines and spirits lined up behind him. He perked up when she entered.
“Welcome to the Highbank Theatre,” he said quickly as if it were something he said many times a day. “The play has already started, miss.”
“Hello,” the fox replied. “My name is Vera Vixen, and I’m visiting here from Shady Hollow. I don’t need to see the play, but I was hoping that I could ask you some questions.”
“Sure thing,” the squirrel answered. His nametag said Landon. “There’s absolutely nothing going on here until intermission.”
Vera thanked him and said, “I’m looking for some information about a Thomas Springfield, a rat, by nature and by reputation. Ever heard of him?”
Landon had an expression on his face that told Vera he had plenty of news to share. She pulled out her notebook.
“Thomas Springfield was a nasty bit of goods,” Landon began. “He was a deadbeat, owed money to almost every business and every creature in town. Had a habit of running up tabs and then neglecting to pay them.”
Vera nodded, scribbling down items as fast as he spoke them. She could tell that Landon enjoyed an audience (perhaps he was an aspiring actor). It was wonderful to interview a witness who was eager to talk, rather than having to drag information out of them. Not every creature was so willing to speak to the press.
Suddenly, Landon stopped his monologue. Vera looked up from her notebook.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I hate to be the one to tell you, Miss Vixen,” he said dramatically. “But some folks are pure evil, and I’m afraid that Thomas Springfield was one of them. Some of us wondered why he didn’t live with his relatives in Mirror Lake. We came to find out that they didn’t want anything to do with him. But facts might be too cruel for you to hear.”
Vera was all too well acquainted with how malevolent individuals could be. She decided to keep that to herself and urged the squirrel to continue his story.
“Well, Miss Vixen, if you’re sure,” he went on. “The village of Highbank has a very active troop of Squirrel Scouts. My daughter Daisy is one of them. They do a lot of good in this town, and folks were always happy to contribute to their fundraisers by buying cookies. A few years ago, the Scouts were raising money to go on a camping trip. My Daisy was so excited! She sold cookies day and night. Oddly enough, Thomas Springfield was one of her best customers. He bought 200 boxes, claiming that he was going to share them with his family when he visited them in Mirror Lake. Well, my Daisy and I delivered his cookies, but he never paid for them. I know that we should have gotten the money up front, but I wanted my daughter to learn to trust folks. Instead, she learned that some folks are thieves.”
Vera nodded sympathetically. “What happened then?” she asked.
“A few days later, that no-good rat disappeared. Needless to say, the Squirrel Scouts did not raise enough money to go on their camping trip. Daisy cried for a week. Most of us in town were of two minds—either he ran away to escape his debts, or Big Eddie got him.”
“Who’s Big Eddie?” she asked.
“Um, I shouldn’t have said that name. He’s just…not someone to mess with.” Landon looked upset, and Vera decided that she wouldn’t bother him with any more questions. She thanked him for his help and left the theater in search of the local law enforcement.
The Highbank police station was so tiny that it shared half its white-painted, clapboard building with the post office. Vera walked in and found that the left side of the station featured neat rows of post office boxes on one wall, and a counter where a stoat in a jaunty pillbox hat stood, smiling at Vera.
“Need to post a letter?” she asked. “Or buy some stamps?”
“Actually, I need to talk to a police officer,” Vera replied.
“Other side, dear,” the stoat said, pointing to the right, where a large walnut desk was positioned in one corner. A carved wooden chair was placed behind it, and two more were on the near side. “Just have a seat. She’ll be with you shortly.”
Vera sat down, wondering who wore the badge here in
