Vera was nonplussed. How odd. Was it possible that Edward Springfield was irked by Orville’s candidacy for police chief and was taking it out on Vera?
It couldn’t be! She didn’t know Edward well, but she couldn’t imagine him behaving in such a way.
Putting the incident aside, Vera walked up to the door, which bore a discreet brass sign saying:
Fallow Law Office
Walter Fallow, Esq.
She entered, calling out, “Hello, good morning?”
“Come in, come in,” a tenor voice responded from an inner room.
Vera followed the voice to find Mr. Fallow sitting behind a large walnut desk, sorting papers into tidy stacks. He was a sleek rat with dark grey fur, with just a few specks of silver on his muzzle. The black eyes were sharp, missing nothing. Few individuals could be so clearly seen as perfect in their professional roles, and Mr. Fallow was one of them. He was born to be a lawyer.
“Good morning. What brings you here today, Miss Vixen? Surely I am not being interviewed for the paper?” His eyes twinkled.
“Not by me,” Vera assured him. “This is a personal matter. Are you busy? I saw that Mr. Springfield was just leaving, but he was in quite a rush. Is he coming back?”
A frown drew down the rat’s silvery whiskers. “I doubt it. Evidently, I was not able to give him the news he was hoping to hear. Anyway, he’ll be distracted today—word has come that his mother has finally passed away, rest her soul.” He deliberately put aside the papers he was holding. “But that is another matter. What can I do for you?”
Vera briefly explained her situation, concluding, “Of course I want to help Orville, and of course I want to do my job. But I don’t see how I can do both.”
“You can’t,” Mr. Fallow said, with the calm confidence of one who knew the law. “It’s a conflict of interest, as you have already seen. However, it is a temporary situation. After the election is over, you shouldn’t have any difficulty with your usual duties. You’ve been covering the Shady Hollow police force for a few years now.”
“But what do I tell BW?”
Mr. Fallow gave her a thin smile. “You’ll tell him that on the advice of counsel, you must refuse to cover or contribute to any articles related to Orville’s candidacy. Nor will you publicly express any opinions on the election in general.”
“I told him that before,” Vera said doubtfully.
“Ah, but now you’ll have the important phrase on the advice of counsel before it. That helps a lot. I’ll write up a letter too for you to shove in Stone’s face when he gets overeager.”
“And what if he gets so mad he fires me?”
“He’d be a fool to do that,” Mr. Fallow said promptly. “Everyone knows you’re one of his best reporters. But just in case, I’ll add a paragraph explaining that it would be actionable if you were to lose your job as a result of your ethical stance. No one wants to be on the receiving end of actionable.”
Vera felt calmer just hearing Mr. Fallow’s plan. Lenore had been right, as usual.
He stroked his whiskers as he leaned back in his chair, saying, “Shouldn’t take more than a half hour to write it up. It’s a fairly standard document. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Just then, a terrified scream echoed through the air.
Vera’s fur stood on end, her tail poofing out in an instinctive reaction to the sound of a creature in peril.
Mr. Fallow went completely still for a moment, his ears pricked up, and his expression wary.
“It came from the direction of the lake,” he said in a low voice.
A moment later, both of them were outside and running toward the lakeshore, intent on discovering who could have made such a noise.
“That way!” Mr. Fallow said, pointing to a gracious house in front of them. “It’s the Springfield home!”
Other residents had heard the sound as well, for a small crowd already converged upon the building Mr. Fallow indicated.
Outside, two creatures stood on the lawn, about ten steps away from each other, with the pathway to the porch exactly between them.
Mr. Springfield was one of them, looking even more distraught than he had when Vera saw him not half an hour earlier. The other was a female rat wearing a fall coat, with a little traveling suitcase toppled near her hind paws. She was sobbing, but more in panic than sorrow.
“What’s the matter?” Mr. Fallow demanded when both he and Vera skidded to a halt on the front lawn. “Edward? What can possibly have happened since I saw you? And Dorothy, was that you who screamed?”
Dorothy Springfield lifted her head from her paws, staring at Mr. Fallow with a wild look in her eyes. “Oh, you must help me! My husband is dead! He’s been murdered!”
Mr. Fallow’s mouth dropped open. The whole crowd shifted to look at a confused Edward Springfield, not ten steps away…looking very much alive.
Vera blinked, trying to match Dorothy’s words to what her eyes saw. What was going on?
Chapter 3
For several moments, there was uneasy silence, as the crowd struggled to make sense of the hysterical rat’s words. It was almost as if every creature present was thinking the same thing: How can she claim that her husband had been murdered when he was standing right next to her? There was some shuffling and mumbling, and then Mr. Fallow made his dignified way over to Dotty Springfield, who was wiping her eyes as she tried to catch her breath.
“Why, Dorothy,” the attorney began in a gentle tone. He pulled a crisp white hanky from his pocket and offered it to her. “Edward is here in front of us. What do you mean he has been murdered?”
Dotty Springfield looked away from Mr. Fallow and stared at the rat in front of her as if she had never seen him before. To be frank, creatures who are not rats may believe that most of
