Chapter Eight
As everyone proceeded to the two Ranger aircraft, something occurred to Gadget concerning the tainted soup. “You know, I could probably do the analysis of the soup more efficiently if I knew what all is supposed to be in it,” she concluded, “Do you know what goes into the corn soup, Dee?”
“I think it’s just water, hulled corn, beans and salt pork,” Dee responded, “But I can’t rule out individual cooks adding a little something extra.” Stopping, she motioned back towards the picnic area, “You all head on back, I’ll check with the cook just to be certain about what he put in this batch.”
“I think I’ll stay behind for awhile myself,” Chip added, “Talk to some of the people involved with preparing and serving the soup, see if they saw anything or anyone unusual.”
“I guess we’ll be taking the Ranger Plane back then,” Gadget replied, “The two of you can take the Ranger Wing back.” Doing the math in her head, she added, “It’ll be a tight fit though.”
“I can fly back on my own,” Fangs pointed out, “So can Foxglove.”
“That leaves Drywall,” Gadget concluded.
“He’s staying with me,” declared Dee, “I don’t want him snooping around my mill without my supervision.” Parting ways with their comrades, Dee and Chip made their way to where the soup was prepared with the curious weasel in tow. “While I’m at it I can take inventory of the equipment that needs repair after that lye induced explosion.”
“The soup’s cooked on site for the Powwow?” Chip inquired.
“Only when lots of it are needed,” Dee answered, “Like the Powwow or other public gatherings... Mom actually built some of the equipment used for it.”
Dee led Chip past the picnic area and towards the camouflaged housing for the soup preparation. Seeing the occasional mouse or rat emerge or return from the site wearing plastic bags tailored to be use as rodent sized hazardous material suits, Chip realized they were still cleaning the area of the lye tainted water.
Looking around, Dee pointed out for her fiancé, “The cook’s staff is over by that sapling, they would’ve noticed anyone out of the place during the cooking, and they can point out who might have helped haul pots to the picnic site. I’ll be around here... y’know, getting the ingredients, checking the equipment.”
After several minutes speaking to numerous volunteers, none of whom were able to provide useful information, Chip became aware of a growing number of rodents talking about ‘that guy with the hat’. Their tone of voice was less than reassuring. Keeping an ear turned toward the crowd, he noticed that some of them seemed to think he had been involved in the bizarre belching incident. Alarmed by some of the more inflammatory accusations, Chip turned to see who it was that was saying such things. As he faced his accusers, he was met by sneers of contempt by a group of mice who looked as if they would otherwise be spending their time shaking someone down. It hardly surprised him to notice his future aunt-in-law hovering in the background, a contented smirk on her face.
Chip was beginning to wonder how much longer it would be before the mob turned ugly... or uglier than it already was, at any rate. His concern was shelved momentarily when a somewhat familiar voice called out, “Mr Maplewood! Chip!” Turning to face someone who would hopefully be a pleasant distraction, he spotted Richard Tanner, dressed in a finely tailored suit, striding towards him. Grabbing his paw and shaking it vigorously, Mr Tanner continued, “I heard you and the other Rescue Rangers were back in town! You here to rescue anyone or are you all here on vacation?”
“That’s a Rescue Ranger?” one of the hecklers asked a comrade. Slowly, some of the foul tempered rodents shied away, not wanting to be seen hurling epithets at a hero who had connections in the city. Then, as Doohickey Hawkfeather bounded up to him and gave him a peck on the cheek, the rest began to melt away. They didn’t want to be seen harassing a hero who happened to be the boyfriend of the tribe’s newest Clan Mother. As Carol Halfshell watched her vengeful mob slink off into the undergrowth she realized turning that day’s unusual occurrence to her advantage would not be as easy as she had estimated. She skulked off, growling to herself.
“I was just talking to Chip,” Mr Tanner stated to Dee after she had arrived, “I was hoping I could treat you and your friends to dinner up at the Red Garter this evening.”
“What do you think?” Chip asked his fiancé, “I was considering taking a rain check and wait til after we’ve wrapped up the case.”
“I don’t see how that’d be necessary,” Dee concluded, “We’d have to break for dinner, case or no case, and besides, this way it’d be free.” After a moment of thought, she added, “Otherwise, dinner comes out of my pantry... Yes, we’re definitely eating out tonight.”
“So we eat out or we don’t eat at all?” inquired the chipmunk.
“Right,” the mouse stated with a smile.
“Then how can we refuse?” Chip accepted, turning to Mr Tanner.
“Great!” the businessmouse replied, “Would seven be ok?”
“Sure,” Dee agreed, “Can we bring guests?”
“Who do you have in mind?”
“My daughter, her boyfriend, Dale’s ‘girlfriend’...” Dee began listing off, “and that weasel whose head is in- Drywall, GET OUT OF THERE!” A startled scream and a crash accompanied the weasel’s latest curiosity inspired indiscretion. Racing from the scene, Drywall managed to hide himself completely behind Doohickey.
“I’ll probably regret this,” Mr Tanner replied, “but ok.”
==
Within a second of the Ranger Wing touching down in Dee’s hanger Drywall was off. In a blur of motion the weasel sped from one side to another in his quest to explore the new locale. As Dee and Chip walked over towards the open living area they occasionally had to dodge the speeding carnivore. “Hope nobody has any other plans,” Chip opened as he approached the others sitting upon the couch and couple chairs, “Mr Tanner, the mouse we rescued here last year, invited us to dinner tonight.”
“Golly, that certainly was nice of him,” Gadget commented, “Will we still have time to do the analysis of the soup before then?”
“I don’t see why not...” Dee would have said more except Drywall raced by, nearly knocking her over, and dove behind the couch. “You done checking the place out?” she asked, irritated.
“Dogs,” Drywall spouted, “big dogs!” His paw poked up over the edge of the couch and pointed towards the stairway leading to the lower levels of the mill and added “Down there!”
“Wolves,” Dee corrected.
“Whatever, they’re big,” Drywall responded, still in hiding, “could eat me.”
“They’re wolves and they’re my friends,” Dee pointed out, lifting the terrified weasel from his hiding place. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you,” she added, pulling Drywall along.
Down in the wolves’ den, Romulus was busy watching reruns while other pack members either slept or played with the pups outside. The commanding canine was too wrapped up in his tv to acknowledge Dee’s first attempt to call him over. Her second attempt, garnering greater success, caused Romulus to look over towards the entrance. “Yeah?”
“AAHHHH!!” Drywall shrieked as the larger carnivore spotted him.
“Stop that!” Dee snapped, smacking the weasel upside the head, “He’s not going to eat you!” As the wolf lumbered over, the mouse introduced the two, “Romulus, this is Drywall. Drywall, Romulus.”
“Hi,” Romulus welcomed the weasel. Drywall quickly waved at the wolf. The two stared at each other for a moment. Romulus twitched an ear, then tilted his head. Drywall continued staring at him intently. Hesitantly, the wolf leaned over towards Dee. “That boy ain’t right,” Romulus drawled.
“No kidding,” Dee responded.
“I’m not sure I trust him,” the wolf pointed out.
“He’s harmless,” the mouse reassured him, “The two of you get acquainted, I’ll be upstairs.”
As Dee left, Romulus motioned towards the rest of the den, “Um, how ‘bout I show you around?”
“Okie-dokie,” Drywall replied, not taking his eyes off the wolf.
When Dee emerged from the lower bowels of her mill, Gadget walked over. “Is it ok if we start the analysis of the soup now?” she asked, “I looked around for the equipment you said you had- of course I wouldn’t start using it without your approval- but couldn’t find it. I know you have other rooms around here that are closed off and would have checked them but I know how territorial you are...”
“Sure,” Dee responded and began to lead her sister to the equipment... until she remembered something important. Smacking her head she explained, “I moved the stuff to my workshop in the city... I thought it would get more use there!” There was an approaching rumble behind the two ladies. When it suddenly stopped, they turned and saw Drywall standing right behind them. “Yes?” Dee asked.
“I heard talking and thought something interesting might be happening,” Drywall explained.
“No,” Dee replied.
“Oh.” In short order, Dale’s constant channel surfing caught the weasel’s attention and he bounded over to watch.
The Ranger Wing cut a quick path through the afternoon sky as Gadget and Dee, with Chip tagging along, returned to the city to examine the contents of the tainted soup. Over in a far corner of Dee’s workshop was a small mound of parts that would otherwise have been dismissed as just an orderly pile of junk. “Well, here’s my homemade spectrometer,” the inventor proclaimed, motioning to the machine, “All we need is to prepare a sample and feed it into the device.”
“Are you sure it’s gonna work?” Chip asked.
“Both tests I ran came out fine,” Dee explained as she began preparing a sample of the soup, “But there’s always the outside chance of a catastrophic failure.”
“Catastrophic failure?” the chipmunk repeated warily.
“Did I say catastrophic?” Dee replied in a concerned tone. “I meant an outside chance of a minor booboo,” she added with an innocent smile.
“Does that mean we should be behind protective shielding when you fire that thing up?” Chip asked.
Dee looked up, thoughtfully. “Hmm, something to work on in the future,” she muttered.
“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t bring Monty with us,” Chip mentioned to Gadget... or he tried to, not realizing until afterwards that she’d wondered over to the machine to inspect it.
“He’d make a good blast shield,” Dee muttered as she worked.
“WHAT?!” Chip blurted out in surprise.
“What?” Dee asked, looking up.
“Did you say what I thought you said?” Chip clarified.
“I don’t know,” his fiancé replied, “What’d I say?”
“That Monty would make a good blast shield!” Chip proclaimed.
“Oh, sorry,” Dee remarked, “I have a tendency to ramble when I’m working... doesn’t mean anything. You should talk to Bob about some of the things he’s heard me say, apparently some of them are real pips.” Lifting up the prepared sample, she proclaimed, “We’re ready to go!” After placing the sample into a cavity in the front of the spectrograph, Dee closed it up and set the dials and levers to the proper settings. Picking up a triggering plunger attached a long length of cord, she motioned to the others, “Just to be safe we should probably be in the next room when I set this thing off.”
All three rodents disappeared into a hole in the wall. When all was set, Dee depressed the plunger. A whirring sound commenced, rising in pitch... only to be cut short by a loud pop. The pop was soon followed by a short buzz. Chip could tell by the way Dee’s shoulders drooped that those weren’t desired sound effects. The fact that this was followed by her stomping her feet and swearing reassured him of the accuracy of his deduction. Before Chip could console his love she departed to inspect her malfunctioning device. Both he and Gadget soon followed her.
“That pop had to be a blown fuse,” Dee reasoned as she flung open a panel on the side of the dormant creation revealing an array of brightly colored automotive fuses. Counting them out, she grabbed one of the red 10 Amp fuses and began tugging on it. The stubborn part refused to budge. Grabbing it with both paws Dee pulled harder, placing one foot against the plastic tray into which it was set and pushing... then up went her other foot... then out came the fuse... then mouse and fuse went tumbling across the floor. “Yep,” she stated while laying on her back examining the fuse. Tossing aside the spent article, she stood and walked back, “Now to find out what that buzzing was.”
Throwing open a second panel, Dee examined the interior while standing back away from her creation. Having spotted something of potential importance she leaned in suddenly, reaching a paw forward. A static discharge arced over the gap between the disabled spectrograph and the lady’s paw with a loud ‘snap’. With a, “Yipe!” that was more from being startled than any sensation of pain, Dee jerked back her paw... just before a sheet of flame enveloped her jumpsuit.
Chip reflexively leapt at his fiancé and flung her to the floor and began patting out the flames, the fact that the flames had already dissipated by the time he made contact with her had yet to register. “No, Chip...” Gadget tried to intervene, having realized fairly quickly what had occurred and knowing that her sister was in no real danger... except, maybe, from an over protective lover.
Dee promptly misinterpreted Chip’s actions and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and flipped him onto his back. “You impetuous animal, you!” she squealed as she climbed atop the startled chipmunk. Leaning in nose to nose, she asked, “But don’t you think we should wait till tonight?” then adding, in a voice laden with desire, “When we can be alone?”
“What?” chirped Chip.
“Uh, Dee,” Gadget broke in, “Chip thought you were on fire.”
Dee rolled the thought around in her head for a moment, then let out a little giggle. “Aww, you were trying to save my life,” she cooed to her fiancé, “you handsome, heroic hunk of ‘munk, you!” Dee then proceeded to thank her future husband by means of a long lingering kiss. Gadget hoped that the kiss would be the extent of it, she was feeling awkward enough as it was. Dee, having adequately expressed her gratitude, rose from the floor. Helping Chip up, she explained what had precipitated the whole experience, “Whenever I fuel up the Banshee my jumpsuit will absorb some of the fumes... If I come into contact with a spark before I’ve washed the residue out it gets ignited, fortunately I absorb so little fuel that it all burns off in the initial flash. The flames never last long enough to actually do any physical damage.”
“Psychological damage on the other hand...” Chip began to comment.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Dee responded, “I really shoulda’ warned ya’.”
As the other two were rising from the floor, Gadget had wandered over to the equipment to look matters over. Sticking her head into the open hatch her sister had been at, she spotted something important. “I think I found the source of that buzzing,” she commented, “It looks like the circuits are fried... or at least I think that’s what they were, though it’s possible they were something else, but then again it’s entirely possible that’s what it’s supposed to look like in there...”
As Gadget speculated, Dee investigated. “Yeah, those were circuits,” she confirmed, “once. It’ll take some doing to replace them.”
“How long?” Chip inquired.
“Depends,” Dee sighed, “If I go for replacing them with ‘real’ circuits I can keep things compact and more reliable but will need a week to track down the right parts. Or, I could cobble together makeshift circuits out of readily available parts, it wold take a couple days but the reliability will drop significantly while the potential for a catastrophic failure rises inversely.”
“There’s that word again,” Chip smirked.
“What? Potential? Inversely?” Dee asked playfully.
“Catastrophic,” Chip intoned with a smile, “Last seen in the presence of a word identified as ‘failure’.”
“Hmm,” Dee thought, drawing closer to Chip, “I might have heard of him, but I hear a lot of words.”
“Well, maybe this will help refresh your memory,” Chip drawled as he took the raven haired mouse in his arms, leaning in to bribe her with a kiss.
Gadget loudly cleared her throat, interrupting the ‘interrogation’. “Um, guys, what are we doing with the soup sample?”
“Actually, we could have Verne take a look at it,” Dee suggested, “If he doesn’t have any clue what’s in it I can get to work repairing the spectrometer.”
“Who’s Verne?” Chip asked.
“He’s a Japanese Beetle,” Dee clarified, “‘Verne Weber Beetle’, the guy’s practically a walking chemistry set.”
Chip proceeded to store the name in his mental notebook. That’s when something dawned on him, “His name is ‘V.W. Beetle’? Isn’t that a car?”
“Yeah, it’s a car and the guy’s nickname,” Dee nodded, “But since no one can pronounce his real name... well, no one that isn’t an insect... people just referred to him as ‘Beetle’, somewhere along the line someone added the ‘VW’ part as a joke, then it kind of evolved into an actual name.”
“Know where we can find him this time of day?” Chip inquired further.
“Unless he’s next door, maybe we should hold off until tomorrow,” Gadget suggested, “We do have a dinner date, remember, and it’s getting late.”
Chip checked the watch that was hung on the wall nearby. “Ok, we’ll head back to the mill and meet with Verne tomorrow.” While en route back to Dee’s residence, Chip gave some thought to the assemblage of persons they were bringing along for dinner. Thinking of one in particular brought up a concerned thought, “Do you think it was ok to have left Drywall alone at the mill?”
“He’s not exactly alone,” Dee replied, “I’m sure Dale and Monty can keep him preoccupied. Besides, how much trouble can they all cause out in the middle of the woods?”
==
“Willyoucutthatoutalready?!” Dale yelled as he shoed Drywall away form the television controls, “AndhwosaidyoucouldgochangingcahnnelswhileIwasgettingasnack?”
Drywall stared at Dale for a moment, trying to decipher what had been said, though finally settling on, “What?”
“I think he means he’s never seen anyone change channels that quickly before,” Monty joined in, “I think.”
“Yeah,” Dale confirmed, “Channel surfing is one of the finest things a guy can do, if he’s good at it... It’s like you’ve never been around a TV before.”
“Well, I haven’t,” Drywall admitted.
“There is much for you to learn, young grasshopper,” Dale proclaimed sagely as he led Drywall over to the couch.
“But,” the carnivore responded, “I’m a weasel.”
Dale’s attempt to teach Drywall the zen of channel surfing was put on hold as the Ranger Wing returned with it’s three passengers. As Chip and the two ladies disembarked, Foxglove walked up. “What did you find out?” she inquired concerning the group’s outing.
“Not much,” Chip replied dejectedly.
“Except that my spectrometer needs an overhaul,” Dee added, sounding every bit as disappointed as her future mate.
“Then where do we go now?” the chiropterid asked.
“I know someone in town who’s an expert in all things chemical,” Dee replied, “We’ll get in touch with him tomorrow.”
“But for this evening we have to get ready for dinner,” Chip pointed out.
Dale couldn’t help but contemplate an issue that often led to contention between Chip and himself. “We don’t have to get dressed up, do we?” he asked.
“Nah,” Dee replied, to Dale’s relief, “The Red Garter’s not that exclusive... well, not for nonhuman patrons at least. Besides, considering who’s treating us I don’t think the management would put up too much flack about his guests being a little... colorful?” After looking around for a moment, she asked, “Anybody seen Raven and Fangs?”
Monterrey gave an amused grunt before answering, “The two lovebirds are up on the roof... enjoying the view.”
Foxglove followed up, “When they said that’s where they were going I almost suggested to Dale that we go up for the view too,” and sounded a little sheepish when she added, “but it looked like they wanted to be alone.”
Dee gave a little snicker before she walked off towards the balcony. Chip quickly caught up with her. “You’re not going to go bursting in on them, are you?” he asked, concerned how such an intrusion might affect the fledgling mother-daughter relationship.
“It’s not like I’m going to find them doing anything I wasn’t doing at their age,” Dee responded with a smirk.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Chip countered.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to go bursting in on them,” she confided before heading out. All the way along the walk to the rooftop Dee pondered how best to handle informing the two that it was time to prepare for a night out. Stopping at the door that opened onto the moss covered patio she listened carefully, out of a certain measure of curiosity. Then it occurred to her, noticing the absolute silence, that Fangs could easily have heard her coming. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything!” she declared after knocking on the door. Getting no response, she hesitantly opened the door and peered in. There was no one to be seen. It wasn’t until she walked out onto the moss laden floor that Dee spotted something a little off to the side and airborne. She soon realized it was Fangs carrying Raven by her arms with his feet. I’ll be, they are doing something I wasn’t doing at their age, she thought, No, actually there was that time I got into a fight with a crow and he took me up seventy-some feet and threatened to drop me.
“Um, hi!” Raven stated nervously once Fangs had set her down and fluttered to a landing beside her. “I’ve never really been anywhere where there weren’t buildings everywhere...” she began to explain, not quite sure how her mother would react to finding her only daughter allowing herself to be dangled above the treetops without anything resembling a safety device.
“And you wanted to get a good view of things,” Dee presumed with a reassuring smile.
“Well, yeah,” Raven answered, “It’s just such a change to get used to... being so isolated and all. And you don’t have to worry about Fangs carrying me, he’s more than strong enough and I know he’d never drop me.”
“That’s ok,” the mother responded in a polite tone that took her daughter completely off guard, “I did worse when I was younger... Now you’re gonna hafta get ready, we’re heading out to dinner soon.”
==
As the sun drew closer to the hilltops in the west, two rodent piloted aircraft crested South Mountain. Doohickey, piloting the Ranger Wing, led the small formation towards the small cluster of buildings that rested halfway up the northwest slope of the hill adjoining South Mountain. The two craft landed behind the largest of the buildings out front of which stood, slightly down the slope in large white block letters not unlike the famous ‘Hollywood’ sign, the name RED GARTER. The saloon of the former frontier themed amusement park had in recent years been renovated and turned into a restaurant and bar featuring an incredible view of the city nestled below in the river valley. Disembarking from their transport, the diminutive patrons of the rodent run section of the establishment met up with their host and adjourned within. Dinner progressed without incident and much of the talk centered around the Rangers’ most recent adventure, that being the recovery of the Delronne Diamond and the resulting reunion of Doohickey with her daughter.
“If you’re ever on a case around here and need any kind of assistance, just let me know,” Mr Tanner mentioned, “I’ve got all kinds of connections around the city that might be useful.”
“Thanks for the offer,” Chip responded, “We’ll keep that in mind, we may not need it on our current case but it’s good to know we have extra support if we need it.”
“Current case?” the host inquired.
“We’re investigating that belching incident that occurred at the Powwow today,” Gadget responded.
“Ah. That was strange,” Mr Tanner commented.
“Know what else is strange?” Raven piped up. Everyone at the table turned to face the young mouse. “All day I have noticed older guys giving me this strange look. Must’ve been seven of them so far.”
“Who?” Doohickey asked protectively, “Anybody here at the restaurant?”
“Yeah,” Raven replied, “One of em just sat down over there.” Both her mother and Chip peered over towards where Raven motioned as the rest joined in out of sheer curiosity. As luck would have it, the older mouse in question just happened to glance back towards their table giving everyone a good look at his face. Upon making eye contact with Doohickey he quickly turned away, as if there were something on the table before him that demanded his immediate and undivided attention.
As everyone, except Drywall, turned back towards their own table, Doohickey let out a long sigh. “I should’ve known this was going to happen,” she stated, more to herself than to the others. Though not everyone had heard what she said, her general bearing made it somewhat clear that she knew what was going on. “He, and probably those other guys, are all people I used to be... popular with when I was younger,” she explained to Raven, “They’re probably looking at you strange because they’re trying to see if you have any of their features.”
Though everyone knew what Doohickey had meant (except, of course, Drywall, who was still trying to figure out what the mouse thought was so fascinating at his own table), Raven couldn’t help but clarify the issue further, “You mean they’re wondering if I’m their daughter.”
“Yeah,” Dee nodded solemnly.
Before anything further could be discussed on the matter, they were all alarmed by a startled shout emanating from the older mouse’s table. This was soon followed by a loud screaming, and as they turned to see the cause of the commotion they witnessed Drywall bounding back towards them in a panic. The screaming weasel then dove under the table to hide.
“Um,” Mr Tanner began, “Where did you get him?”
“We got him in a box of Puffy-Wuffies,” Dale replied lightheartedly, “The box said ‘A surprise in every box!’ and boy was he a surprise!”
“Achully,” Gadget answered seriously, “He’s supposed to be helping us investigate the cause of that incident at the Powwow as a form of community service.”
We can’t keep having things like that happen, Chip thought to himself. After a moment of thought, he motioned a waiter over. Chip quickly whispered something to the waiter, who gave an odd look to the chipmunk, rolled his eyes and began to leave. Grabbing the waiter by the arm and pulling him back, he whispered to him again. The waiter looked confused, nodded and walked off. Before too long the same waiter returned and handed Chip a small paper bag... on the side was scrawled the words ‘Bag-O-Mystery’. “Drywall,” Chip called in a sing-song voice, “I’ve got something for you.” Drywall’s head suddenly popped out form under the table right into the chipmunk’s lap. With a startled yelp, Chip nearly fell backwards in his chair but was caught by both Dale and Doohickey. “Look!” he addressed the weasel, presenting the bag, “A ‘Bag-O-Mystery’!”
“Ooh!” Drywall cooed as he shoved his head into the bag. “There’s nothing in there,” he pointed out.
“Not now,” Chip responded, “but it’s a ‘Bag-O-Mystery’, who knows what might show up in there?”
Drywall emitted an amused little ‘hmm’ as he walked back to his seat, peering into the bag all the while. Once seated, he looked away for a moment, just in the off chance something was going on elsewhere... and in that moment, Dee tossed a piece of her venison steak into the open bag. Drywall quickly shoved his head back into his ‘Bag-O-Mystery’ and discovered the magical meat munchie and quickly devoured it.
Just as peace had been restored at their table, the manager arrived. “Excuse me, but we’ve had some complaints about your party,” he stated, then looking specifically at Dee, “Miss Hawkfeather.”
“Why are you lookin’ at me?” Doohickey asked, a little insulted. “It was ‘General Nuisance’ over here that was doing the screaming,” she pointed out, motioning to Drywall. The manager shifted his focus to the weasel who kept periodically shoving his head into a paper sack labeled ‘Bag-O-Mystery’. It was then that he began to walk away, hoping desperately to avoid getting involved in whatever it was that the patrons at that table were doing.
As Dale watched the manager walk off he spied a pool table through one of the doors leading to the adjoining bar. “Hot doggies!” the chipmunk declared. “Hey, can I be excused?” Dale asked, not bothering to look back to his comrades, “I ate all my veggies!”
“Well, you didn’t,” Chip pointed out needlessly, “But go ahead, just don’t...” But before he could finish his warning, Dale was gone. “...get hustled, again,” Chip finished in a subdued tone.
“I’ll see if I can keep him out of trouble,” Foxglove offered as she got up to join Dale.
The rest continued with their meal and conversation, with different people periodically tossing a munchie into Drywall’s bag to keep him preoccupied. Everyone had just about forgotten about Dale’s absence, until he wandered back without his shirt and a bewildered look on his face.
“They got everything,” Dale moaned, “My shirt, my chocolate bar, and my Captain Spiffo #67.” Foxglove, who had followed Dale back, merely shrugged as if to say ‘sorry, I tried’.
“Dale, you...!” Chip proceeded to yell, but caught himself and just growled out the rest of his anger. Then, keeping his voice at a tolerable level, “I tried to warn you not to let yourself get hustled... again!”
“But- I- they-,” Dale stuttered in a vain attempt to explain away his mistake.
“Monty,” Chip groaned, “Could you go win back Dale’s shirt... again?”
“I’d love to mate,” Monty began, “But I left me Linda back home.”
“Linda?” Fangs asked.
“His lucky pool cue,” Gadget pointed out.
“I’d do it,” Dee offered, “But I’ve been banned from playing pool here... and a few other places.”
“Why would you be banned?” Foxglove inquired.
“Having a mind-bashingly high IQ gave me an unfair advantage, being able to do all the calculations in my head and all,” Dee explained, “Well, that and I had a tendency to carom balls off the skulls of people I didn’t like.”
“Mind-bashingly high IQ you say,” Chip said as he looked over towards Gadget.
“What? Me?” Gadget asked, “But I don’t know how to play pool.”
“Don’t worry, luv,” Monterrey replied, “I’ll tell you all you need to know.”
“And don’t tell them you’re Dee’s sister,” Chip advised as Monty, Gadget, Chip and Foxglove left for the bar.
“I’m also not allowed to participate in Snow Snake competitions either,” Dee lamented.
“What’s ‘Snow Snake’?” Chip asked.
“It’s a Seneca winter sport,” Mr Tanner answered.
“Yeah, you build up this ridge of snow about waist high,” Dee proceeded to explain, “and then you pull a long cylindrical thing along the top to make a nice smooth trough. The players then take a pole, run up to one end of the ridge and toss their pole onto the trough. Whoever’s ‘snake’ slides the farthest wins.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Chip began, “But how can you get banned from playing something like that?”
“Players are allowed to treat their poles with a resin to help minimize resistance, and some people use recipes handed down through the generations of their families,” Dee prefaced, “But I decided to come up with my own.”
“And it went the farthest,” Raven guessed.
“All the way down the trough,” Dee clarified, “Off the far end, sailed through the air and lodged into a tree... at which point it caught fire. That’s when it was decided I couldn’t play anymore, and was forbidden to tell anyone what recipe I used for the resin.”
==
“There’s no way she can make that shot,” one rat muttered to his companion, “Doohickey couldn’t make that shot.”
His companion, fiddling with his cue, watched Gadget closely as she examined the position of the marbles on the improvised pool table. Much to his dismay, he was actually losing to her. He’s right, he thought, there’s no possibility she can make that shot. “How about this,” he broached to his beautiful opponent, “Since you probably have better things to be doing with your time, we settle things with this one shot. You make this, and your friend gets his shirt, candy bar and comic book back... and if you miss-”
“I buy you dinner,” Gadget replied, assuming the original deal still stood.
“I was thinking,” the rat countered, “Since I’m offering to shorten the game, something I obviously don’t have to do, just for you, I think it would only be fair for you to offer something extra.”
“Now wait right there!” Monty began to intervene.
“Excuse me sir,” the rat replied to Monty, “You’re not the one I’m playing against. Unless you think this lady isn’t enough of an adult to be making her own decisions, you think she is somehow incompetent... Do you really think so little of her?”
“What do you have in mind?” Gadget asked of her opponent.
“Well, that instead of you buying me dinner,” he proceeded before leaning in to whisper into Gadget’s ear.
The young lady’s eyes widened considerably before she blurted out, “That’s disgusting!”
“But if you’re not confident you can make the shot then we can just go with the original deal,” the rat quickly responded, “and play out the rest of the game. I wouldn’t blame you, half the people I play against could never make that shot... There’s no shame in admitting you lack the skill, that you’re simply incapable.” He looked Gadget over, trying to judge her frame of mind. “All in all you’ve played about as well as the other girls I’ve played against,” he added with a dismissive air, “You can at least be proud of that.”
Gadget was about to reject the offer, but Monty wasn’t sure and gave her a gentle coax towards the side of caution, “It ain’t worth it, luv.”
“Yeah, Gadget, that shot’s impossible!” Dale pointed out.
“Nothing’s impossible, Dale,” Gadget replied, “Only improbable.”
“Then prove it,” the rat declared, “Prove to me that you can make this shot.”
“I don’t-” Gadget started.
“Think you can make the shot?” the rat butted in, “Then you admit that it really is impossible... and that you lied to your friend, there.”
“I didn’t lie!” Gadget shot back.
“Then make the shot,” the rat demanded, “or admit you’re a liar.”
Gadget glared at her opponent. “You’re on!” she declared.
“Gadget!” Monty pushed in, “You don’t have to do this, you know you’re not a liar, we know you’re not a liar...”
“Quiet, Monty,” Gadget stopped him, “I need to think.” The rat regarded his opponent with supreme contentment, not only had he duped her into going along with him, he got her unsettled enough that she was almost certain to fail. As Gadget examined the table from different angles, she caught his gaze. She looked back to the table. Then to her opponent. Then the table. “Y’know,” she stated, “You might get hurt standing there.” Gadget pulled the rat over to a different position. “If I miscalculated the trajectory or the amount of force required I could break your nose or something... and that would probably make your victory rather hard to enjoy.”
“Well, ok,” the rat agreed, letting Gadget reposition him.
Gadget returned to the table and prepared for her shot.
==
“How many other games aren’t you allowed to compete in?” Chip asked his fiancé after she had explained why no one would allow her to join in a lacrosse match. Dee was just about to reply...
KOOK
FLUMPF
Everyone turned towards the bar, from whence the odd noises had come. As they looked there was a small round of cheers. Most of the patrons in the restaurant simply returned to their meals, whereas Dee turned to Chip, “That sounded somewhat familiar.”
Drywall had just raced over to the door to the bar when it flew open. Out strode Monterrey, carrying Gadget triumphantly on his shoulder. “Great shot, luv!” he declared.
“Yeah, that was one in a million!” Dale joined in as he finished putting his shirt back on.
“Achully one in five thousand, three hundred and twenty-nine,” Gadget replied as Monty set her back down on the floor.
“Was that sound what I thought it was?” Dee asked her sister with a smile.
“If you’re referring to the sound of a marble ricocheting off an arrogant and disgusting rat’s head,” Gadget began, “Then, yes, it was.”
Chapter Nine
When dinner was well and truly done, Mr Tanner settled up the bill and proceeded to part company with the Rangers and his other guests. While farewells were being exchanged, the sound of a struggling car engine brought Doohickey and Gadget’s attention to the side of the roof overlooking a section of the parking lot. Once they had spotted the vehicle, the two mechanically inclined ladies began discussing between themselves the likely cause of the engine’s distress. Chip meandered over to them just as the driver managed to get his vehicle to function (more or less).
“I was wondering where you two had gotten to,” the chipmunk addressed the mice.
“Just diagnosing engine problems for fun,” Dee explained lightly.
As Chip and her sister talked, Gadget spotted something shiny in an empty parking space. “I wonder if that fell off a car?” she asked herself aloud. “There’s something I want to check out,” Gadget stated to anyone listening, “I’ll be right back.”
After seeing his future sister-in-law depart, Chip returned his attention to his wife-to-be. He detailed the malevolent crowd that had rallied around the apparent assumption that he had something to do with that day’s unusual occurrence, including the fact that her aunt seemed to be responsible for goading them on.
“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Dee commented, “It isn’t the first time she’s tried to instigate a brawl. At least this time it didn’t work.”
“I think your showing up was the reason one didn’t materialize,” Chip pointed out, “They probably didn’t want trouble with a Clan Mother.”
“I really have to talk to June about that,” Dee followed, “I have no intention of staying a Clan Mother.”
After a moment, Chip replied, “I thought you meant you were going to talk to her about your Aunt Carol trying to cause trouble.”
“No, she knows about what Carol’s been up to,” Dee explained, “Might even know a few things the rest of us don’t... But unless someone can tie Aunt Carol to any kind of wrongdoing there’s not much we can do but put up with her crap.”
“Everybody knew Al Capone was behind all those murders but couldn’t find the evidence,” Chip correlated. “Your Aunt Carol and her goons might be the reason you were chosen to be a Clan Mother. Who in their right mind would harass someone in your Clan knowing you’re in good with a pack of wolves?” he inquired rhetorically.
“That’s one of the reasons I don’t like this!” Dee stated in obvious irritation, “Ever since it became public knowledge that I live with wolves it’s been as if people are afraid to get on my bad side because they’re afraid I’ll send the wolves after them.” There was a slight pause before she continued, “I mean, it’s not so much that they’re afraid I’ll do something unpleasant to them as it’s they’re afraid I’ll send some thugs to do my bidding. I want people to fear me for me, not for who I hang around with.”
Chip couldn’t help but laugh. Then, realizing his fiancé was staring at him in an exceedingly unpleasant manner, he explained himself. “No, I wasn’t laughing at you!” he quickly stated, “It’s just that, all the times I fantasized or postulated about the girl I’d marry, I never in my wildest dreams imagined she’d honestly proclaim: I want people to fear me for me.”
Dee then realized how disturbingly ludicrous it was. “It’s like the moral of an after school special for Klingons!” she laughed as Chip joined in. As their laughter subsided they noticed Gadget walking over to them lugging a cellular phone.
“Let me guess,” Chip started, “It followed you home and you want to keep it.”
“Well it can’t exactly follow me and we’re not exactly home and keeping it wasn’t originally what I had in mind,” Gadget proceeded to respond, “When I first realized it was a cell phone I thought we could try to return it to it’s owner, but I discovered it didn’t work... I think it got run over in the parking lot... so even if we did return it to it’s owner it’d probably just get thrown out anyway.”
“So you do want to keep it,” Dee postulated.
“Assuming I can find out what’s wrong,” Gadget answered, “It could be put to all kinds of uses, and even if I can’t get it working again it’s components could be useful in other inventions... maybe even scavenging some of the circuits for your spectrometer.”
“Well, it’d be cruel not to give it a good home,” Dee joked, “We’ve got room in the planes to bring it back and I can set aside room in the mill for you to play with it.”
After Gadget had stowed her prize, everyone was more or less ready to return to the mill for the night. However, before anyone could begin boarding, the party was spotted by two winged mammals out on their early evening breakfast flight. Swooping in, Bert and Bernie came to a landing near the group.
“Hey, Foxglove!” Bert called out, “Funny meeting you here. Me and Bernie were just finishing up an early meal and were going to head over to the mill to look for you.”
“What’s up?” Foxglove inquired.
“Felanna, the best singer in our colony, is going to be giving a performance at Sweet Water Spring,” Bernie explained, “We were wondering if you’d like to join me- I mean us.”
Foxglove considered turning down the offer, not having had much of a chance to spend time with Dale after nightfall. However, the way he kept casually sending her off without so much as a hint of jealousy or concern about not spending time with her bothered her. Foxglove decided to put Dale to a bit of a test. “Sure,” she replied to the two other bats, then turning to her favorite chipmunk, “Dale, I’m gonna go with Bert and Bernie to hear a performance by someone from their colony, I’ll meet up with you back at the mill later. Bye!” It actually hurt a little to so abruptly leave Dale behind, but she hoped it would pay off later.
“Uh, sure, ok,” Dale responded as Foxglove flew off with her two escorts. Something about how quickly she left bothered him, but he had trouble placing it.
On the flight back to the mill, Chip brought up something that had entered his mind after talking to his fiancé about her aunt’s propensity to instigate trouble. “I was thinking,” he began to Dee, “Even though we don’t yet know what it is that caused the belching at the Powwow, it’s a pretty safe bet it isn’t something that’s supposed to be in there... or something that would naturally fall into the mix.”
“Someone spiked the soup?” Dee presumed.
“Yeah, and I was thinking about who the most likely suspects might be,” Chip continued, “Given the circumstances, your Aunt Carol is right near the top of a really short list.”
Dee actually laughed at the assumption. “I think that’s a little beyond her means,” she countered, “Unless ‘belching mix’ is something you can pick up at a store, I seriously doubt she has the smarts to create it on her own.”
“That’s assuming belching was the intended outcome,” Chip pointed out, “Maybe she created a ‘belching mix’ thinking it would have a different effect.”
“I still think it’s unlikely,” Dee responded, “You’ve seen what she’s like, she’s a little too ‘direct’ in her behavior to do something sneaky like lacing the soup with something... That frog on the other hand, I can see him doing something like that.”
“Which one?” Chip asked, “There were quite a few there.”
“I mean Philippe,” Dee clarified, “The rat-frog.” Chip rolled his eyes. “The way he just oozed insincerity, just rubs me the wrong way... And the thought of him actually rubbing me just turns my stomach.”
“No one I spoke to saw him anywhere near the soup, though,” Chip pointed out.
“Coulda’ got someone to do it for him,” Dee posited.
“That’s reaching,” Chip countered. Then something occurred to him. “Unless his insincere flattery turned the head of a young local lady that no one would give a second thought to.”
“We get to interrogate him then?” Dee asked, almost gleefully.
“I’ll talk to him,” Chip clarified, “You’re taking that sample to Mr Beetle... Since we don’t know how long it’ll take to find that rat I want to make sure someone’s getting that done.” After a short pause, he explained, “Besides, I’m not sure I want to find out how you’d interrogate him.”
No sooner had the aircraft landed in the mill’s hanger than Monterrey hopped out. “I’ll be down in the wolves’ den, filling them in on the activities tonight,” he stated, “I think they’ll get a kick out of how Gadget won that game of pool!” Not being one to turn down one of Monty’s stories, even if he had just experienced the real thing, Dale followed along as did Zipper. They were followed in turn by Drywall, still periodically sticking his head into his ‘Bag-O-Mystery’. Raven and Fangs soon departed for the observation deck to be alone. Once Dee had helped Gadget set aside room to tinker with her cell phone, she joined Chip on the couch.
“If I’m going to be speaking to this Philippe character, it’d help if I knew where to find him,” Chip opened, then, turning to his love, “Any ideas where an out-of-towner, possibly low on funds, would stay around here?”
Dee thought for a moment. “Several places,” she answered, “There’s a rodent section to most of the rest spots in town, several small bed-and-breakfasts, the Dudley Motor Lodge downtown, the new Holiday Inn in the west end, a dinky little place near the Nation Museum...”
“Gonna hafta narrow this down then,” Chip interrupted, “Which are the cheapest of those places?”
“The bed-and-breakfasts scattered through town and that spot near the museum,” Dee responded.
“Wait!” Chip spouted, “He said he’s an artist...”
“I think it comes with the accent,” Dee laughed.
Chip continued, oblivious to his fiancé’s joke, “That means he might need supplies...”
“Like wine, snails, cheese and a white flag,” Dee lightly pointed out.
“Could you lay off the French bashing for awhile,” Chip gently chastised his sweetheart. However, the idea that popped into his head reeked of the same ethnic stereotyping he had just ridiculed... and he certainly didn’t want to have to admit he was seriously considering it. But with nothing else to talk about, an awkward silence soon prevailed between the chipmunk and mouse.
“You’re going to check with Rick Tanner about anyone local who might’ve started buying lots of wine, aren’t you,” Dee stated calmly.
“Yes,” Chip sighed, then quickly added to justify his decision, “But only because someone like Philippe would probably make his own art supplies.”
Before Chip could continue to explain why his decision was based more on reason than ethnic stereotyping, a low yet plaintive whining arose from the wolves’ den, “Dee, your creepy weasel is staring at me again!”
As Dee hung her head, Chip remarked, “Maybe if you told Romulus to stop being so interesting?”
Dee and Chip eventually wandered into the den where Monterrey, Zipper and Dale were enjoying the spectacle of a wolf being intimidated by a lowly weasel. “Stop that you strange creepy thing, you!” Romulus moaned at Drywall.
“He’s probably only staring at you because he’s never seen a real wolf before,” Dee tried to reassure her predatory pal.
“But he’s already seen me!” Romulus protested, “Why does he have to keep it up?”
“I just noticed something,” Chip remarked, after having watched the wolf’s movements, “Even when Dee was talking to you, you kept shifting your eyes back and forth between her and Drywall,” then, motioning with his paws to illustrate the second point, “and each time your eyebrows shifted position... the right was up, then the left, then back.”
“I have eyebrows?” the wolf asked as he tried to see them himself.
“Chip’s right,” Dee added, “You have a very expressive face, and the more agitated you got the more fascinating the show must have become!”
“Besides,” Monty joined in, “he’s not looking at you now.”
Romulus looked back at the weasel and realized he was staring at the Australian. “Well, I guess you’re- AHH!” No sooner had he started speaking than Drywall returned his unsettling gaze to the leader of the pack.
“Will you knock it off,” Dee pleaded, “What threat could a weasel possibly be to a hundred-thirty pound wolf when he’s surrounded by the rest of his pack?”
Starting to feel a little foolish, Romulus lowered his ears a little and looked back towards Drywall. Then Drywall, still staring intently at the wolf, quickly licked his lips. “He’s planning to eat me!” Romulus screamed in terror.
“What’s wrong with you?!” Dee hollered, “He should be afraid of you eating him! Hell, we should all be afraid of you eating us!”
“Then why was he licking his lips?” Romulus queried.
Dee looked to Drywall. “I remembered I had a bit of peanut butter stuck to my whiskers from dinner,” he explained.
“There, see?” Doohickey pointed out to the wolf, “He’s not planning to eat you.”
“Well ok,” Romulus grumbled, “But I still think he’s up to something.”
“I guess this is what I get for surrounding myself with carnivorous animals,” Dee sighed, “I’m depressed, I need a cookie.”
As Doohickey departed the den, the other rodents and Zipper proceeded to leave as well. “C’mon lad,” Monty drawled as he patted Drywall on the shoulder, “Let’s see if we can find you an interesting sitcom on tv.”
“Good luck,” Chip called back with a laugh, “I don’t think they make those anymore.”
Once upstairs, Dee went to retrieve a snack from her pantry as Chip and the other males set themselves down before the tv. With his fiancé’s return, Chip suggested they take their discussion of the case somewhere quieter while Monty and Dale kept Drywall entertained with prime-time programming. As the remaining males scanned the channels for anything of interest, it occurred to Dale to ask Foxglove if they could try to find something to her liking (which he assumed would most likely would have been something romantic). He turned to ask her, only to be reminded by her absence that she had left earlier with her two chiropteran contacts.
At first, Dale felt a little slighted that Foxglove hadn’t stayed glued to his side, but he eventually felt somewhat foolish about that. After all, they weren’t ‘officially’ dating or anything. Still, it felt like something was missing and he couldn’t quite place it. The thought of asking Chip to come watch tv crossed his mind, but he was busy with Dee. What about Gadget? Dale thought, What’s she doing? However, hanging around with Gadget just didn’t seem to have the appeal it always used to. Foxy’s always up to doing things with me, he concluded... only to realize he had just thought himself around in a circle.
“What’s the matter, lad?” Monty asked, “I thought you liked watching people you don’t know pretend to be rodeo clowns for fifty thousands smackers each... after all, it’s ‘reality tv’.”
“It’s not that, I don’t think,” Dale responded. Eventually, he was able to articulate his dilemma, “How could Foxy just up and leave with Bert and Ernie like that?”
“Bernie,” Monterrey corrected.
“Yeah, right,” Dale acknowledged, “She didn’t even ask if it was alright with me... I thought I was the only guy for her, at least that’s how she always made it seem.”
“Well, maybe the lass is starting to get the feeling you don’t appreciate her,” Monty offered, “Those two local bats, on the other hand, have been paying all kinds of attention to her since they met... even went out of their way to invite her out.”
“You don’t think she’s falling for one of them, do ya?” Dale asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.
“I wouldn’t go and presume to know what’s in her head, or heart for that matter. But I have noticed something about relationships in my time,” Monty responded sagely, “You know how you and Chip always doted on our little Gadget? Suppose she actually enjoyed all that attention and got to thinking that she’d always have it, so she just went about her business as usual, inventin’ and all, as if your giving her flowers was as commonplace as the sun rising. But you both wanted more of a reaction from her, maybe getting something like that back once in a while.” Dale listened intently, knowing that it certainly seemed that way. “Then along comes a young lady who shows an interest in Chip,” Monty continued, his point highlighted by a burst of giggles from Chip and Dee off in the hanger, “Now she starts showing him all that attention he had been hoping to get from Gadget. Next thing you know, he’s not giving flowers to Gadget anymore, he’s giving them to his new lady friend, and she responds with the occasional kiss or cuddle.” Deciding to wrap things up as clearly as possible, he added, “It’s like an exercise, lad, you get out of it what you put into it.”
Dale digested the information. He originally considered Foxglove’s advances somewhat embarrassing, especially since he considered himself ‘Gadget’s munk’. But did Gadget even want him, at least, in that way? If she had a preference, wouldn’t she have made it known after Chip became involved with Dee? Her behavior towards him didn’t change at all after Chip was ‘out of the way’. But Foxy was always right there waiting for him. ‘Was’ being the operative word... Now that he was actually thinking about taking things further with her, she was out with some other guy, two other guys in fact. Dale wanted her back... if he could get her back, if he hadn’t missed his chance. “You’re right, Monty,” he stated, “I’m gonna go think of things I could do with Foxy when she gets back!”
Monterrey sat back in his seat, pleased that he could help nudge things along between Dale and Foxglove. As he tried to return his attention to the television he noticed Drywall staring at him... just staring. He couldn’t help but agree with Romulus, it was a little creepy. “Anything I could help you with?” Monty offered, “While I’m in the business of offering advice, that is.”
Drywall actually blinked. “Yeah, actually, yes,” the weasel replied, “Do you have any ideas how I could get that wolf to like me?”
“You mean Romulus?” Monterrey asked rhetorically, “You could start by letting him know that you like him, or at the very least that you don’t mean him any harm. You could get to know him, maybe compliment him... y’know, butter him up!” Drywall quickly shifted his gaze to the kitchen and departed. Monty soon found something interesting on the National Geographic Channel. “Those look like the jungles o’ New Guinea,” he remarked to Zipper, “And if I’m not mistaken, that’s near where I came upon a koala... of course, koala’s aren’t native to New Guinea, it happens this lad got himself sucked up in a typhoon and needed a little help gettin’ home...”
Down in the wolves’ den, Romulus was watching television... specifically, a program where humans freely sacrificed their dignity for just a hint of money. While his attention remained on the flickering box before him, he felt something on his tail. Thinking it was likely a pup trying to get him to play, he waved it about a little, never prying his eyes from the screen. Romulus then felt something grab his tail and hold it still, this was soon followed by a stroking sensation... it almost felt like one of the pups was licking it. That’s odd, he thought, I’ve never had a pup lick my tail before. As a commercial came on, he looked back towards his tail. No pup. Just a weasel standing next to a plate slathering butter on his tail with a knife.
The wolf’s terrified scream caused everyone to jump, but before anyone could ask the inevitable, their attention was grabbed by a different screaming. Not as loud, but longer, it got closer as it rose up from the wolves’ den. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the stairs that led the way down. Drywall came flying through the opening at top speed. Racing around in a tight circle, still screaming, he soon shot off and disappeared into the Banshee’s air intake, where the screaming subsequently ended.
“Dee!,” Romulus called up from the den, “You said the creepy weasel wasn’t planning to eat me... But I just caught him spreading butter on my tail!”
“I see more cookies in my future,” Dee muttered as she departed for the wolves’ den.
Chip looked towards the living room. Striding in authoritatively, he glared at both Monterrey and Dale. “All right, which one of you put Drywall up to this?” he demanded.
“Chip, I’m offended!” Dale intoned, filled with indignation, “I’ve been sitting here, peacefully, trying to compose love poetry for Foxy.” He held up a sheet covered with his distinctive chicken scratch.
When Chip shifted his gaze to Monty, the big mouse seemed to shrink a little bit. “I guess I’m the guilty party,” he confessed sheepishly, “I told Drywall that he could get Romulus to like him more if he would... butter him up.” Quickly, he added, “Now if I’d known the lad would take that literally...”
Before Monty could finish his sentence, Dee entered the room looking as belligerent as a storm cloud. In one paw she held a plate on which was a remnant of butter, in the other she brandished a butter knife bristling with wolf hair. “A beating will commence in ten seconds!” she declared, looking back and forth between Dale and Monty as she spoke, having made the same conclusion as Chip, “Now who’s the lucky recipient?”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Chip stated quickly, taking the knife and plate from his sweetheart. Holding the plate and knife in one paw, he led Dee into the kitchen with the other as he explained why nobody needed to be beaten.
Chapter Ten
Foxglove was quite anxious as she returned from the concert. The singing was beautiful, but it was difficult to properly appreciate it, the way she had ducked out on Dale earlier hadn’t set well with her. The uncertainty evident in Dale’s voice when she left caused her to worry... What if the effort to elicit more affection from her chipmunk had actually pushed him away? Part of Foxglove wanted to return to the mill as swiftly as possible in hopes of finding that her plan had succeeded... but another was terrified that it may have backfired and wanted to put off that discovery as long as possible.
“Well, here we are,” Bert proclaimed as they arrived within sight of the mill, “See ya’ later, Foxglove!”
“Yeah, maybe we can spend more time together tomorrow night!” Bernie tacked on as the three parted.
“Yeah, see ya’,” Foxglove responded blandly. Hopefully I won’t have time to spend with you both tomorrow night, she thought. Landing in the hanger she cautiously looked about. Chip and Dee were off on their own in one corner of the spacious room, Monty was seated in the chair facing the television with Zipper perched atop the seat back... but no Dale. However, the rear of two furry ears appeared over the back of the couch and quickly disappeared. Foxglove wondered what he was doing, she couldn’t hear anything really distinctive. As she slowly approached she overheard Dale make a disappointed grunt followed by what sounded like scratching. Oh, I hope he’s not mad at me, she fretted.
Zipper was the first to notice her and piped up with a cheery, “Hi, Foxy!” and waved.
Monterrey then took note of her arrival with a hearty, “Welcome back, luv!”
Foxglove noticed Dale’s head pop up, then sharply pivot about. The way that only his large startled eyes appeared over the back of the couch caused her to giggle in spite of her anxiety. His head quickly turned back around and, for a moment, Foxglove feared he was planing to give her the silent treatment. Though, as she heard the hurried ruffling of paper, he finally greeted her. “Hey, Foxy!” she declared, still looking forward as he tried to hide his attempt at poetry, “I, uh I mean we didn’t expect you back this early!”
“Well, considering everything that’s happened today, I wasn’t up to staying around for the rest of the show,” Foxglove explained. “Were you writing something when I came in?” she asked, noticing the pencil laying nearby and connecting it to the rustling paper she’d heard.
“No, I mean yes, I mean-” Dale stammered, not quite sure how to explain that he had been trying to write poetry and certainly not wanting to admit that he wasn’t having an easy time of it. His response, coupled with his blushing, was all Foxglove needed to assuage her fears of damaging their relationship. “Y’know, I was thinking that I haven’t been spending enough time with you,” Dale eventually decided on, much to the lady’s unbounded delight, “How ‘bout we go up to the roof and look at the stars? Oh wait, Raven and Fangs are up there...”
“There’s a little pond next to the mill,” Foxglove suggested, “That might be a nice place to spend some time alone together.”
“Um, sure, that sounds ok,” Dale agreed.
Leaving the mill at ground level, Dale and Foxglove strolled down to what was left of the old log pond. All around were trees that stood like columns of an ancient shrine. The darkness beyond created a wall that seemed to be made of sensuous veils... their shadows both intimidating and inviting, as if beckoning one to venture further into the night forest’s all concealing embrace. The traffic from the interstate far to the north was nothing but a ghostly whisper, only occasionally audible over the soft serenade of rustling leaves and trickle of the stream that flowed into, then out of, the artificial pond.
For Foxglove, the calm of the forest seemed more alive than it would for most mammals, but still possessed a surreal silence compared to the city. But for Dale, the sylvan enclosure evoked feelings of home... not home as a Rescue Ranger, but the home he and Chip had left many years before. A stroll by the water’s edge brought back fond memories of his first crush, the first girl he and Chip fought over, sly and shapely Colette. The fact that the teenage squirrel had a couple years more than either chipmunk had no effect on their attempts to gain her attention. They both knew that the only reason she agreed to go for moonlit walks with them was to infuriate her parents, but they didn’t care. “I wonder what she’s doing these days,” Dale idly wondered aloud.
“Who?” Foxglove asked, not sure whether this ‘she’ was someone to worry about or not.
“Just a girl Chip and I had a crush on when we were kids,” Dale responded, “back when we still lived in the woods... the surroundings got me thinking about things back then.”
“I don’t think you ever told me about what you and Chip did back then,” Foxglove pointed out, “For that matter, I thought you both grew up in the city.”
“Nah, we grew up about seventy-some miles away, in a little tiny state park,” Dale explained.
“And you moved to the city for the excitement?” Foxglove assumed.
“Um, no, actually we wanted to be musicians,” Dale pointed out, “Well, professional musicians, so we could go on the road with Clarice.”
“That girl you were both nuts for?” the bat giggled.
“Yeah, no, well,” the chipmunk stammered as he tried to sort out the various love interests from his youth, “We were nuts for her, but Clarice wasn’t that first girl Chip and I had a crush on. Clarice was a local girl who got famous as a singer. We got to perform with her when she came back around to sing at a local club... Chip and I wanted to go on the road with her, and we were good too, but her manager thought we didn’t have the experience.”
“So you went to the city to get discovered,” Foxglove supposed.
“Sure, that’s how it happened for Clarice,” Dale confirmed, “But it was a lot harder than we expected... well, Chip said from the start it was going to be hard work, but I could tell even he was a little disappointed things weren’t going as well as he hoped.”
“So you gave up on your dream?” the young lady asked softly.
“Didn’t really give up on it,” Dale replied, “just got... distracted. With everything going on in a big city we started looking for more exciting things to do when we weren’t rehearsing an’ stuff... and with a police station right across the street there was always the chance we could tag along on a case and maybe get in a car chase or something. That’s how we met Plato and Detective Drake.”
“And things went from there,” Foxglove finished with a smile, knowing that it was the munks’ interest in ‘protecting and serving’ that eventually led their paths to cross with hers.
“Yep,” Dale intoned laconically.
“What instrument did you play?” Foxglove asked.
“Bass guitar,” Dale answered, “Y’know, the kind that goes-,” he continued as he strummed out a tune on an imaginary instrument.
“Do you still play it?” the lady inquired further, realizing she’d never seen him actually play a real musical instrument before. Air guitar along with a rock video, yes; real instrument, no.
“Well, no,” Dale responded sheepishly, “been kinda busy as a Rescue Ranger and all.”
“Oh,” Foxglove replied out of default. But then she got an idea. “I always thought it would be so romantic to have a gentlemunk caller show up at my roost and serenade me, the kind of thing Chip might do for Doohickey... but if you’re out of practice I’d understand if you couldn’t-”
“Who said I was out of practice?” Dale piped up, “Chip might be out of practice, but not me! He barely even listens to music anymore... always has his nose in a book. I bet I could out serenade him any day!”
“You could?!” Foxglove asked excitedly, “That would be wonderful!”
Wait, she actually expects me to? Dale asked himself. “Well, I’d need to get my stuff out of storage... tuned up... and stuff. Then you’ll see some real serenading!” Gotta remember to find out what ‘serenade’ is, he added to his expanding to-do list.
As much as she loved him, Foxglove had to admit Dale did have at least one annoying fault, that being his tendency to forget things from time to time. After she and her sweetie had returned to the mill for the night, she managed to get Dee alone and broached an idea she’d had. The mouse was quite receptive to her plan. In short order, she did her part to get things rolling while everyone more or less congregated in the living room.
“Chip,” Dee addressed her fiancé, “I remember you telling me you used to play the piano.”
“That’s right,” he affirmed, “Back before Dale and I became Rescue Rangers.”
“I’ve always loved piano by candlelight,” Dee cooed, “Maybe we can find you a piano one of these days. Hm?”
“That is a wonderful idea,” Chip agreed, his attempt to sound as interested as his fiancé betrayed by the uncertainty in his voice, “I haven’t played in a while though.”
“Don’t tell me you let yourself get rusty,” Dee prodded playfully, “Foxglove said Dale was going to give her a sampling of his musical talents as a demonstration of his affection for her. But if you’re too rusty to do something like that for me I’ll understand.”
“Me? Got rusty?” Chip responded, “That’s absurd! I could understand Dale having to get back into practice...”
“Oh yeah?!” Dale cut in. Within a few moments both chipmunks had blustered themselves into having to perform for their respective ladies. Doohickey and Foxglove later settled in for the night assured that their loves’ competitive natures would guarantee them a good show.
Chapter Eleven
After breakfast was out of the way, that morning’s activities were plotted out. Doohickey, Monterrey and Drywall would get in touch with V. W. Beetle while Chip and Gadget met with Mr Tanner in an effort to locate the artist Philippe. Though, as the two parties prepared to take respective transports into town, Dale broached upon a matter of interest to him.
“I hope some of you get back soon, I’d like to take Foxy to town to do some sightseeing,” he pointed out, “y’know, just the two of us.”
Chip stopped to ponder the matter for a moment. He soon seized upon it as a reason to bring up something that had crossed his mind the previous night. Motioning his fiancé over, he brought forward a suggestion. After some discussion, she agreed with the idea of moving their operations to her workshop in town, at least during the day, to save time during investigations and allow those not actively engaged to find something interesting to do in town without being stranded at the mill. In short order, everyone else soon prepared to depart for Doohickey’s workshop from whence they could move on to whatever it is they chose or needed to do. Once at her workshop, Doohickey set her assistant, William, to work setting up space for her guests.
==
Outside a small abandoned train depot, with the lettering for East Salamanca still visible after years of weathering, the Ranger Wing set down behind some bushes. Two mice and a weasel soon disembarked and approached a cluster of rocks abutting the structure’s stone foundation. The party stopped at an small opening between a couple of the rocks.
Kneeling down near the aperture, Doohickey shouted in, “Verne, are you in? It’s me, Doohickey!”
“Maybe he’s not in,” Monterrey conjectured after some waiting, “Do you know where he might be off to, if he were so motivated?”
“Might be at the ‘Hole in the Wall’,” Doohickey ventured, standing up, “Though he usually doesn’t stop by there till later in the afternoon.”
As the two rodents conversed about the insect’s whereabouts, Drywall was becoming ever more intrigued by the possibility of something being behind all those stones. He ventured closer and closer.
Doohickey eventually took note of the weasel’s encroachment upon the residence, and was startled to see that he was preparing stick his snout right into the hole. “Drywall! Don’t!”
But before the mustelid could heed the hurried warning, his nose brushed one of the stones, shifting it slightly. Suddenly, a cloud of greenish fumes spewed out from the pile of rocks. Having foreseen this scenario, Doohickey leapt back and grabbed a cloth from her jumpsuit to cover her nose. Monterrey wasn’t as quick and caught a whiff of the putrid stench. “GAACH!!” he belched out in disgust as he hiked his turtleneck over his snout. Drywall, unfortunately, got some of it right up his nose. Squealing in aromatic agony, he wheeled about pawing frantically at his nose trying to beat the scent out.
“Strike me starkers!” Monterrey gasped, “What was that?!”
“Verne’s home security system,” Doohickey mumbled from beneath her cloth, “I designed the release mechanism, he came up with the stench.” As she heard Drywall lose his breakfast into a pile of dead leaves, she remarked with disturbing cheeriness, “It’s always so much more gratifying to see your invention perform as expected in the real world than during a trial run, it provides such a sense of accomplishment!”
“That stench reminds me of Zozo the Stink Beetle. Why, that invertebrate cold secrete an odor that could actually melt steel!” Monterrey proceeded to recount, oblivious to the fact that Drywall had not only recovered from his encounter but had begun to wander off, “He helped me an’ Geegaw out of a bind in Java when we were captured by a tribe of-”
Monterrey’s story was cut short as Drywall bolted screaming between Doohickey and himself, knocking both onto their backsides. The screaming weasel was immediately followed by a small swarm of angry hornets.
Doohickey remarked in obvious annoyance, “How much you wanna bet he stuck his nose in their nest.”
“Makes ya’ wonder how the lad’s survived this long,” Monterrey commented.
==
The Ranger Plane, with Chip and Gadget aboard, stealthily maneuvered through the foliage of an elm standing near the warehouse of a beer distributor. Landing on a branch close to the trunk, the two rodents disembarked and made their way down. After reaching the ground they proceeded to the rodents’ entry, which was concealed by a pile of discarded bricks, near the base of the humans’ structure. Once inside, they found an employee and were promptly directed to Richard Tanner’s office.
Maneuvering their way along the passages, occasionally having to stand aside to let porters by with their wheel barrows of wine or bags of seed or nuts, Chip and Gadget located the slip of cloth that constituted the door to the office. “Mr Tanner?” Chip asked politely, pulling aside makeshift curtain. Within, the businessmouse was seated at a miniature desk looking over some papers, the wall behind almost completely made up of a blackboard covered with various symbols and slashes whose meaning were known only to their creator.
“Oh, Chip, Gadget,” Tanner spoke up cheerily after looking up from his work, “Come in!”
Just as Chip and Gadget entered the office, a young female mouse burst in and quickly got around them. “Mr Tanner,” she piped urgently, “I was double checking inventory in storage annex B-1 and noticed some of the seed packets have gone bad.”
“How many?” Tanner asked.
“Four.”
“Ok, have Jerry take them out to the burn-pit to be disposed of and tell Herb to get in touch with the squirrels over on Academy about getting some fresh seed,” Tanner ordered promptly.
“Standard offer?” the young lady inquired, to which her employer replied with a nod.
“You have to excuse her,” Tanner stated once the youth had flown from his office, “Della takes her work very seriously and seems to run on double espressos... either she’ll end up running this place in a few years or exploding. Now how can I help you?”
“We were wondering if you’ve had any contact with a French rat named Philippe Marie-Suzon,” Chip queried.
“Yes, I have. In fact, he did this painting for me as payment for some wine,” Tanner replied, motioning to a portrait of the Greek god of wine hung on the wall to his right. “Do you suspect him of some kind of wrongdoing?”
“Oh, no,” Chip replied, “Not yet at least. We’re hoping he might have some information that has some bearing on the investigation we’re doing... unfortunately we don’t know where to find him.”
“I wish I could help you out in that respect,” Tanner responded, “He has a couple frogs come by here to drop off his payment, artwork usually, and pick up his wine.”
“Could you-” Chip started before being cut off by Della who stormed into the office and pushed past him. Not one to let someone interrupt him so rudely, he pulled her out of the way to continue the dialogue, at which point he learned Della wasn’t one to let someone prevent her from performing her job as swiftly and efficiently as possible. Throwing her full weight into the effort, the relatively diminutive mouse shoved the grown chipmunk out of the office, his hat toppling off as he flew.
“Della!” Mr Tanner scolded, “That could have been a very important business contact you just threw out of my office!”
Her expression of seriousness being replaced by one of utter shock, Della dove out of the office and promptly shoved Chip back in. For his part, Chip still wasn’t quite sure what was happening. Picking up the chipmunk’s hat from the floor, Della brushed it off and returned it to it’s rightful place atop his head. She then politely stood aside.
“Chip,” Tanner stated, “You were saying...”
“Right,” Chip started as his train of thought returned to it’s previous track, “Could you ask the frogs where they’re taking Philippe’s deliveries?”
“I did when they brought up the offer, so that I could have my own people make the delivery,” Tanner answered, “But they were adamant that ‘the master’ didn’t want to be disturbed by ‘the incompetence of other’s flunkies’. I didn’t press the matter at the time.”
“Perhaps we could just follow them after they come for the next pick-up,” Gadget suggested.
Chip thought it over. “No,” he decided, “If they’re really all that intent on their boss not being disturbed they might get a little concerned if they notice anyone tailing them.”
“What about sending someone from here with the delivery, as an escort,” Della spoke up eagerly, “Just as an added guarantee that the product arrives safely, thus limiting the possibility of customer dissatisfaction.”
Tanner digested the suggestion for a moment. “It might wash easier if it sounded more urgent, less of an ‘add-on’ and more of a business necessity,” he postulated.
“Someone had made threats against your interests and may target you shipments to hurt your business,” Chip suggested.
“Recently received complaints from other recipients about receiving damaged goods,” Tanner brought up, “We’re sending observers with all non-employed couriers to verify proper handling of the goods in transit.”
“That sounds plausible,” Chip agreed.
“I’ll have Bob go along with them when they come by in a few hours,” Tanner explained, “Della, I want you to explain this to them, it’ll seem less suspicious coming from someone further down the business ladder, sound more like a new general policy.”
“What if they disagree?” Della inquired, hoping to work out any problems ahead of time.
“Tell Bob to convince them,” Tanner suggested, “gently.”
==
When Chip and Gadget returned to Doohickey’s workshop from their meeting with Mr Tanner they were greeted by the sight of Monterrey Jack plastering Drywall with pink goop. Noticing how their attention was focused on the scene, Doohickey explained, “Stuck his head in a hornets’ nest.”
“Yeah, but this salve my mum always used should get the swelling down in no time!” Monterrey declared.
“Found out anything about that compound?” Chip inquired.
“Nah,” Doohickey replied as she gathered some parts together at a workbench, “Verne wasn’t home, we’ll check for him at his favorite watering hole as soon as Drywall doesn’t look so much like a pile of welts,” then added, after looking up at the pink plastered weasel, “or a blob of sentient bubble gum.”
“We’re waiting to hear back from Bob about where Philippe is having his wine delivered,” Gadget pointed out, reciprocating the case critical information.
Doohickey had started constructing something, whose purpose was not readily apparent to anyone watching, from the parts she had gathered when Dale wandered over to her. “Dee?” he asked politely.
Dee made a noise that roughly amounted to, “Uh-huh?” without looking up.
“Do you know anyplace romantic that I might be able to take Foxy?” Dale inquired.
“Armories can be romantic,” Dee mumbled, “Aren’t any in town, though.”
“Huh?” Dale replied, not entirely sure if she knew what he had asked.
“What?” Dee replied in turn, finally looking up from her project.
“Where can I take Foxy that’s romantic?” Dale asked again.
“Oh, um,” Dee blurted as she thought, “I think there’s a park out behind St Pat’s church just south of here, near the river. Just look for a red brick church.”
Once Dale had thanked her and sped off, Chip, who had observed the whole exchange, asked his fiancé in an amused tone, “You think armories are romantic?”
“Yeah,” Dee shrugged as she tried to return her focus to her work, “especially if they’re the older kind.” She then looked up and added, in a detached and dreamy way, “You know, with swords and armor... antique cannons...”
“Maybe for our honeymoon we can go on a tour of European castles,” Chip suggested lightly.
“Oooooh!!” Dee cooed, clasping her paws together excitedly.
Before Dee’s enthusiasm for an eventual honeymoon could lead her to engaging in inappropriate behavior with her future husband in front of others, there came a knock at the door. “Ms Hawkfeather, are you in?” the visitor called out through the closed entrance.
“Come on in,” Dee ordered, “It’s open.” Two male mice entered her workshop. As she looked them over they appeared slightly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place them. “Need something built or repaired?” Dee asked.
“Actually,” one of the males started, before motioning to himself and his companion, “We’fe got a disagreement between us and we were hoping you could help resolfe it, being our Clan Mother and all.” Dee’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the speaker. Then, as the other began to gruffly rattle off his version of what the disagreement was about, she shifted her gaze his way... his narrative slowly shuddered to a halt as he realized her obvious displeasure.
“I didn’t ask to be a Clan Mother,” Dee began to respond to the two visitors, “I don’t want to be a Clan Mother,” then finished through clenched teeth, “and I will not act as a Clan Mother!”
Seeing the stunned, and rather offended, faces of the two visitors, Chip decided to jump in. “Don’t go anywhere,” he advised to the two mice before taking hold of his fiancé and hustling her aside, stating, “We need to talk.”
Before Chip had gotten her very far, Dee grabbed his jacket and pulled him around so they were face to face. “What?!” she demanded in a growl.
“Regardless of your feelings about whether or not you’re a Clan Mother,” Chip started, hoping to avoid making Doohickey any angrier than she already was, “These two people, members of the community, just came here with a problem and have asked you to help them. You had given me the impression that you were interested in being a Rescue Ranger, and you wouldn’t be acting much like a Rescue Ranger if you blow them off as if they and their problem are so far beneath you that they deserve your outright contempt.”
Dee glared at him. She was considering Chip’s point, but didn’t want to show it. She simply couldn’t allow herself to make it appear that she might give ground. Regardless of how trivial the point might be, once Dee’s ire was up, any disagreement was a challenge- a fight to be won. When her lips curled back, Chip expected the worst. “Fine!” Dee hissed, finally conceding defeat. She hated doing so, but did not want to hurt the relationship with the chipmunk she loved. As Dee turned to address her fellow Clan members, doing her best to wipe the expression of anger form her face, Chip let out a sigh of relief.
Once Dee had motioned the two visitors aside to discuss the bone of contention between them, Chip went off to discuss a different matter to himself. He was having trouble grasping his love’s aversion to accepting her new found status within her tribe. The fact that the situation had been foisted on her out of the blue without her views on the matter even being considered might have had something to do with it; Chip tried to consider what his response would have been had his being a Rescue Ranger been pushed on him without his input or consent. But he presumed that Dee hadn’t been asked about whether or not she wanted to be adopted into a wolf pack, yet she not only got the pack a tv but also a cable hook-up out in the middle of nowhere. The possibility that there might be matters of tribal politics that may have soured his fiancé’s view of the matter that he would be utterly unaware of crossed his mind.
Chip had a couple hours, at least, until he heard from Bob about Philippe’s whereabouts. It appeared increasingly more worthwhile to meet with June Redtalon in the meantime. Hopefully she could help him get a grip on why Doohickey would get so belligerent over people regarding her as a Clan Mother.
Chapter Twelve
“William, could you hand me the needle-nosed pliers?” Gadget requested as she hovered over a project.
“Of course,” Dee’s assistant responded, handing over the proper tinkering implement.
Gadget only half-heartedly glanced at the tool in her paw before stating, “No, I mean the pl-” Quickly looking back at the pliers, she realized she was, indeed, holding what she had asked for. “Golly, these really are needle-nosed pliers!” she remarked.
“Those were what you requested,” William replied in his typically nonchalant manner.
“Oh I know,” Gadget responded, “It’s just that whenever I let Chip or Dale help out on a project I get so accustomed to having to correct them when they hand me the wrong tool or part that I guess it’s become a conditioned reflex.” William was about to point out that there was no offense when Gadget continued, “I didn’t mean to imply that you wouldn’t know what you were doing, although I was assuming that I would be handed the wrong tool, but since the assumption was purely subconscious it couldn’t be considered intentional, after all, if you didn’t know what you were doing you wouldn’t be Doohickey’s assistant, although not all assistants are fully skilled in their craft...”
“It’s quite all right,” William assured her, hoping to prevent the rest of the explanation, “The reason Ms Hawkfeather consented to take me on as her assistant was because of my mechanical competence.”
“Come to think of it, why are you her assistant?” Gadget inquired, “Have you considered having your own workshop? Not that I’m saying you should...”
“It’s a time honored tradition to study under the tutelage of a master in one’s chosen field before going off on one’s own, and your sister is the most skilled engineer I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.” Then, with a smile and a nod towards Gadget, “Well, one of the most.”
“Golly, thanks!” Gadget replied with a slight blush, after having realized William had meant her.
Before William could get any further in his polite flirtations, Chip intervened. “Gadget,” he began, “I’m going to be gone for awhile, I have to ask Ms Redtalon a few things.”
“Ok, Chip,” Gadget replied, “But why are you telling me?”
“Dee’s preoccupied with tribal affairs,” Chip proceeded to explain, “I figured I should let somebody know where I was going.”
“That makes sense,” Gadget nodded as she returned to her work. Ms Redtalon, she thought to herself, Oh, one of the Clan Mothers. Mother... wish I’d had a chance to get to know my mother, why she never got back in touch with Dad, or exactly what had happened that she had to leave her home in the first place so that she met Dad. Waitaminute... this is where Mom lived, maybe there are people here who might have some answers... like Ms Redtalon! “William, make sure no one does anything with this,” Gadget stated as she began to head off after Chip, “Oh, and let Dee and everyone know where I went... and Chip... well, both of us achally. Bye!”
==
“Come in,” the elder mouse stated clearly in response to Chip’s knocking. As the chipmunk entered he was soon greeted by, “Why, hello handsome!”
“Uh, hi,” Chip responded somewhat self-consciously.
“Hello, Ms Redtalon!” Gadget greeted as she followed Chip into the residence.
“Hello, Gadget!” was the cheery response, “And you can call me June... both of you.” Patting the couch on which she sat, she added, “Sajë:h.” Chip didn’t need the impromptu lesson Dee had given him in the language to understand the word. Neither did Gadget as they both took seats on the couch and a chair. “Now, what brings you two here?”
“We were hoping you could help us answer a couple questions,” Chip replied simply.
“Well I’ll do my best,” June assured her guests.
After a short back and forth between the two guests, it was decided that Chip should proceed first. “My question has to do with Doohickey,” he began.
“I have a question about her myself,” June interrupted, “If you don’t mind.”
“I... guess not,” Chip replied, a little surprised.
“Effer since it became public knowledge that she liffs with a pack of wolfes, there haff been all kinds of rumors floating about,” began the elder, “Anyhow, I’fe been wondering just how close her relationship is with them... any predator/prey romance or anything like that?” Chip just looked at June for a moment, not quite sure how he should answer such a question. “After all, this isn’t the kind of thing you want to walk up to someone and ask,” the matriarch clarified.
“Generally, she’s treated like part of the pack,” Chip opened, “and she... almost had a relationship with the pack leader, like a romantic relationship.” June seemed genuinely surprised by the fact. “But they never let it get too far,” Chip continued, “they felt it would interfere with their responsibilities in the pack.”
June merely nodded as she digested the information. “Not quite as salacious as some of the rumors... some of which I’m sure Carol started,” she eventually commented. “Now, what was your question?”
“Ever since hearing that she was chosen as a Clan Mother, Dee’s been more than a little reluctant to accept the position,” Chip explained, “I was hoping you might have some insight into why she would be so hostile to the idea.”
As June thought for a moment, Gadget added a question, “What exactly does a Clan Mother do, anyway?”
“Well,” June began, “We’re responsible for electing the Chief, we are responsible for approving adoption of outsiders into the tribe and our clan, we preside over various ceremonies, and we’re responsible for resolving disputes between members of our clans.” There was a brief pause before she turned to Chip with a slightly different subject, “That reminds me, you neffer told me what a Rescue Ranger does.”
“Well, let’s see... ” Chip began.
“We’re a small but efficient battalion or do-gooders dedicated to helping those in trouble,” Gadget sprightly railed off.
“Actually, what we do covers a wide variety of matters,” Chip began, “Our first case was to clear the name of a human police detective and stop the criminal that framed him from stealing the city’s gold reserve, we traveled to England to prevent a feline crime lord from stealing the Crown Jewels...”
“We recovered a kid’s model train set after it was stolen... and in doing so foiled a bank robbery,” Gadget added, “Coincidentally, one being carried out by that same feline crime lord who was after the Crown Jewels.”
“We rescued a booby egg after it had been stolen from it’s nest by a poacher,” Chip continued, “We went to the South Seas to rescue the animal passengers of the Lucitania when it sank, we also traveled to Paris to find the cause behind a strange whining noise that was driving out the city’s dogs.”
“You certainly get around, don’t you?” June marveled.
“We have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice,” Chip stated proudly, “wherever we’re needed, whenever we’re needed.”
“Maybe that’s her problem,” Gadget piped up, “Dee is afraid that her responsibilities to her tribe as a Clan Mother would interfere with her relationship with Chip!”
“Just as her responsibility to her pack prefented a relationship with her wolf,” June agreed.
“And her interest in creating a Rescue Rangers branch here,” Chip speculated further, “She thinks she has to choose between her duty or her desires.”
“Well, now that we have that cleared up,” June declared in reference to Chip’s query before inquiring of Gadget, “What is plaguing your mind?”
“I was hoping you might have some idea why my mother had to leave her home,” Gadget pointed out, “All I’ve ever heard is that she had a falling out with her in-laws.” There was a slight pause before she added, somewhat sheepishly, “And, maybe why she never got back in touch with me and Dad.”
June leaned back on the couch as she tried to recollect the events of twenty-seven years ago. “I can help you with that first part, at least,” the wizened matriarch began, “Uh, Chip, could you get me a cup of water, dear?” Once the chipmunk returned with the refreshment, June continued, “Most of the details about how this got started I got from one of my nieces, she was a friend of your mother. Anyhow, one of their friends decided to haff a little get-together just for her immediate circle of friends, unfortunately, Carol- your sister’s aunt, your mother’s sister-in-law- decided to infite herself and her sisters, a set of twins that followed her efrywhere. Shortly after they arrifed, the good-times left.
“Your mother and my niece had tried to console their hostess, who had retreated to her bedroom to cry. From what my niece told me your mother was particularly upset about all this... she and Carol neffer really got along in the first place, if anything they only barely tolerated each other. When they left their friend to return to the party, such as it was, your mother told her sisters-in-law, ‘You weren’t infited, you’re not wanted here and the owner of the residence wants you to leafe.’ My niece told me that their friend had neffer asked to haff Carol and company to leafe...”
“She shouldn’t have had to,” Chip remarked, “Something like that kind of goes without saying.”
“There’s no doubt she wanted them to leafe,” June replied, “But she wouldn’t haff tried to press the issue, efen through a second party... she didn’t want trouble, and that’s exactly what Carol was going to cause if anyone tried to get her to leafe.” Turning back to Gadget, she continued, “But your mother had just had enough of Carol’s attitude and something was going to happen. Carol spouted off something to the effect of ‘We’ll see about that!’ and began to head on back to the bedroom, at which point your mother blocked her path and all but ordered Carol and her sisters to leafe.” June shook her head to emphasize the next point as she went on, “Carol neffer liked being giffen orders, least of all from her otherwise quiet little mousewife of a sister-in-law... so she just shuffed her aside. That’s when your mother tackled her... and it wasn’t long before Carol’s sisters joined in.
“Efen outnumbered three to one, your mother knocked Carol’s lights out!” June declared with obvious pleasure, “and once Carol was out of the fight her sisters backed off. As they were dragging their sister out the door they were warning about how once she was back on her feet they were going to be back to do in your mother.”
“Just because she beat them in a fight?” Gadget asked incredulously.
June nodded somberly. “As I mentioned to you at the Powwow, Carol built her image on fear, and to be beaten in a fight when the odds were in her fafor three to one was unforgiffable... it just couldn’t stand. In Carol’s mind, your mother had to be made to pay dearly for humiliating her... otherwise, other people might get it into their heads to stand up to her. Of course, because of this, most of the people at that party didn’t want your mother anywhere near them, as if she had the plague. But they also wanted to salvage what they could of the evenings festifities, so they figured she should be the one to leave... that way efen if Carol did come back she wouldn’t stay long.”
“You mean they kicked her out?!” Gadget indignantly asked.
“In cases like that you find out who your real friends are,” June replied, “and at that party, she only had two. Ann Southmont and my niece were the only two to stand up for her, but they were outnumbered and the owner of the residence was absolutely terrified, so they left. From what my niece was told by one of those who stayed was that Carol and her sisters did return, armed to the teeth, but left when they couldn’t find your mother. But that wasn’t the end of the indignity forced on your mother,” June went on, “She tried to get her husband, Bob and Dee’s father, to talk some sense into his sister... but Carol had been bullying him since the day he was born so he wasn’t about to say ‘boo’ to her. Your mother diforced him on the spot, grabbed her baby boy and whateffer clothes she could carry and left for her mother’s. My niece stayed behind to misdirect Carol when she showed up.”
“Was my grandmother a Clan Mother at the time?” Gadget inquired, remembering some of what Dee had told her during previous discussions.
“Yes she was,” June answered, “and that’s the only reason, when Carol found out where your mother had gone, she didn’t march right ofer, break down the door and drag your mother out. As much of a bad-ass as Carol was, she wasn’t about to break into the residence of a Clan Mother. In the days after that, Carol made it clear that if your mother stepped one foot out of her mother’s place she was going to go for her throat. Ideally, your grandmother would have talked to Carol’s Clan Mother and she would’fe put her foot down, told Carol to drop her ridiculous fendetta. Unfortunately, there was some pre-existing bad blood between the two, so Carol’s Clan Mother refused to step in and put an end to things. The other Clan Mothers could haff stepped in and imposed a solution for the sake of maintaining ciffil order, but they didn’t want to make it look like they were taking sides in that little grudge match between the other two.”
“That’s ludicrous!” Chip protested.
“I agree,” June almost laughed, “and if I’d been a Clan Mother back then I wouldn’t haff put up with it, but I wasn’t. Efentually things got so bad that Amanda left... She left Bob with her mother because she didn’t want him with her in the efent Carol caught up with her, and since Bob’s care-giffer at that point on was a Clan Mother, Carol didn’t dare lay a finger on him.”
“Unless that Clan Mother took ill,” Chip presumed, remembering Dee’s previous statement that her mother returned when her in-laws were demanding custody.
“That’s what brought her back,” the elder acknowledged, “No one wanted to see Carol get her paws on that child, and the only way to prefent that was if Amanda came back to claim him. And it wasn’t just the custody issue... By the time she got back, her mother was in such bad shape that she had to help care for her. It was at that point that the other Clan Mothers finally put their collectiff feet down. They took Carol’s Clan Mother aside and explained to her that if any harm befell Amanda as a result of Carol’s lust for refenge they were going to take it out of her hide. Dee being a young Clan Mother is a rare exception, most of us, especially the ones back then, were getting on in years and didn’t want to set the precedent that someone responsible for their well-being was fair game to any lowlife thug with an ax to grind.”
“I get the feeling Carol didn’t take the news well that she couldn’t have her revenge,” Gadget supposed.
“Nope,” June replied, “It just infuriated her more. She couldn’t touch your mother, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find some other way to get back at her... I imagine if she found out your mother’d had a child with an outsider no one else knew about, she would haff jumped on that in an instant.”
“I guess Mom was afraid that if she tried to get in touch with Dad, Carol might have found out about it,” Gadget openly speculated.
“I’m sure that was weighing on your mother’s mind quite a bit,” June reasoned.
“It would also explain why she never told anyone but the Southmonts about meeting Geegaw and having a child with him,” Chip added. “You know,” he began thoughtfully, “I’m not sure Dee knew the specifics about the rift between her mother and her father’s family... Maybe knowing the role that indecisive Clan Mothers played in her mother’s life could help her make a more educated decision about the matter.”
“You might want to be careful about that,” June chimed in, “Depending on how it influences her decision, you could wind up without a fiancé.”
“In any case, I think she has a right to know what happened between Mom and her Aunt Carol,” Gadget pointed out.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Chip and Gadget returned from their visit with June Redtalon, Dee was just about done washing pink salve off of Drywall. For his part, the weasel looked particularly pathetic with his perpetually perplexed expression accented by masses of wet, matted fur. Chip and Gadget recounted for Dee what they had learned of her mother’s past as she finished washing the weasel. Though she never particularly liked her Aunt Carol, the word ‘despise’ was not necessarily an appropriate descriptor for how she regarded her... at least, not until her sister and fiancé finished their narrative. Her outrage was only heightened by the fact that so many people used to say that she took after her Aunt Carol.
“But I do agree with you on something,” Chip redirected, “I don’t think she spiked the soup at the Powwow. It just seems too trivial and prankish a thing for someone that mean-spirited.”
“That’s assuming belching was the intended outcome,” Dee shrugged, remembering Chip having made that point earlier.
“And there’s still the matter of motive,” Chip added, “What was the person trying to accomplish?”
“Dee?” Gadget interrupted, “Where’s Monty?”
“Oh, that salve he slathered all over Drywall consumed the last of the edible and potable resources available here at the workshop,” Dee explained.
“You mean he cleaned out the pantry,” Chip simplified.
“Exactly,” Dee responded, “I sent him to the nearest supermarket to get more supplies.”
No sooner had Dee explained the Aussie’s whereabouts then he returned in a near panic. Setting the several bundles of groceries on the floor before him, Monty threw himself up against the closed door as if to bar it. “Ca-c-c-cat!!” he yelped in a burly manner, “Comin’ after me!”
Dee was about to point out that there aren’t any felines patrolling in the surrounding field due to an old agreement between the tribe and the local stray cat population until- WHAM!! The door flew open despite Monterrey’s mass being pinned against it... cheese, red sauce and a variety of other consumables were flung violently in a radial pattern around the entry. Within the doorway appeared the face of a familiar badger who stuck her head in, as much as her size allowed, and sniffed about intently.
“Hello, Ms Rose!” Gadget cheerfully greeted the unexpected visitor.
“Oh, hi,” the large Clan Mother responded, then added after surveying the debris field, “Did I just demolish your groceries?” Everyone nodded. “Sorry,” she responded, “I thought I caught the scent of my cheesy-squeezy guy.”
“You mean Monty?” Chip inquired.
“Yup,” the badger replied, “I guess I must have just smelled one of you bringing back the groceries.” With one more apology for the mess, she departed, closing the door as she did. Monty, having been pinned to the wall by the door, flumped to the floor.
“That wasn’t a cat, Monty,” Gadget pointed out, “Just a love-smitten badger!”
==
“With all that cheese and ketchup splattered about it looked like you exploded!” Dee laughed to Monty as she piloted the Ranger Wing across town.
Monty chuckled halfheartedly at the thought. “She could at least have called out to see who it was rather than let me think I was being stalked by a cat!” he grumbled.
“Well where’s the fun in that?” Dee jested, “She’s a predator, it’s part of her nature to stalk... she probably didn’t even realize how you’d interpret it.”
“I know it’s in her nature to stalk,” Monty pointed out, “But how am I s’posed to tell the difference between being stalked by a predator for food and being stalked for romance?”
“At least she didn’t get right up behind you and give you a playful nip on the back of your neck,” Dee replied, remembering a particularly shocking incident with Romulus years back, “unintentionally grabbing hold of your hair, keeping you from making a break for it.” Once the aircraft had set down atop a downtown building, everyone disembarked. “Well, here we are,” Dee declared unnecessarily, then adding in a more serious tone, “And try to behave yourself, Drywall.”
Entering the rodent-run bar, The Hole in the Wall, at ground level, the trio went about trying to locate Verne Beetle. “Shoulda’ asked Zipper to tag along,” Monty lamented to himself, realizing how much easier to would be to spot someone in a crowded bar from above. Finding a mass of young female mice all clustered around a corner table, he decided to inquire with one of the ladies, “‘Scuse me, luv, ‘ave you seen a beetle anywhere here abouts?”
Barely acknowledging his existence, the lass responded in a giddy tone, “The cutest beetle in the world!” She clarified, hopping excitedly and pointing over the heads of the ladies in front of her, “In there!”
Being too much of a gentlemouse to elbow his way through a throng of females, Monty muttered, “That’s good enough fer me,” and went off to locate Dee and Drywall.
Wasting little time, Dee proceeded to plow a path through the crowd, Monty sticking close behind to avoid the enveloping mass of femininity closing up between them. Drywall, initially glued to Monty’s rear peering over his shoulder, simply could not stand the suspense and made his own way to the center of attention. From the wall of adoring young female mice, Verne was suddenly face-to-face with a male weasel. Being particularly terrified of mustelids, the beetle did the one thing he could think to do- scream.
“He won’t eat you!” Dee shouted. Finally arriving at the center of the mob, she took a seat beside Verne... after having pushed another mouse out of the way.
“Hello, Dee,” Verne chuckled nervously, adjusting his thick glasses, “you certainly are keeping some carnivorous company lately,”
“Sorry about Drywall, there,” Dee replied apologetically. Getting down to business, she continued, “We need you to identify a chemical.”
Monty handed over the paper package containing the distilled crystals. Verne opened the package and proceeded to investigate the contents. “Ooh! Hmm, quite interesting!” the beetle commented to himself as his antennae wheeled about, “Very fascinating! Never encountered anything like it!” Setting the package down on the table, Verne excused himself. Getting up from his seat, Dee and Monty noticed the miniature sneakers the insect was wearing on his hindmost pair of legs. Despite their scale, they were still comically oversized for his body. Not that it inhibited his mobility in any way, his hindmost legs (and sneakers) were a blur beneath him as he scurried upright over towards the bar. All the ladies let out a collective sigh of adoration as he went.
While at the bar, Verne grabbed a couple cocktail napkins and bummed a pencil off the bartender. Upon returning to his seat, once more to the sighs of his adoring clique, he quickly began to scribble on the napkins. “Never having encountered this unusual concoction before, I have no readily available name to refer to it by, so I’ll just draw out the graphical formula for it,” he explained, “I’m sure that’ll provide all the information you’ll need.” As he completed the diagrams delineating the nature of the chemical, he added in a very grave voice, “But I should warn you, do not add this to water!”
Dee and Monty looked at each other. Looking back to Verne, Dee asked cautiously, “Why not?”
“Well, if one were to consume water tainted with this compound, it would produce spontaneous carbonation when it came into contact with stomach acid,” Verne began, “and once the carbonation has passed, the chemical will have recombined to form a highly lethal poison... much like cyanide.”
Blood ran cold for both Dee and Monty. “Are you absolutely certain?!” Dee inquired.
“Indeed,” Verne replied, “the unique combination of impurities found in the municipal water supply would provide all the necessary extras to create the poisonous side effect.”
“Municipal water supply,” Doohickey repeated, as Monty began to feel faint, “You mean tap water.”
“Correct,” the beetle confirmed.
“But pure water’s ok,” Dee pressed further.
“Perfectly harmless,” was Verne’s response.
Dee’s head fell to the table with a ‘bonk’ as relief allowed the tension to leave her body. Monty, on the other hand, was unaware of the importance of Verne’s last answer. “Is he ok?” a girl asked.
Dee looked around and saw the shape Monty was in. Grabbing his trench coat, she smacked him a couple times. “Monty, Monty! It’s o-k!,” she reassured him, “The soup was not poisonous, it was made with purified water! The cook’s a little funny, he thinks using tap water in his soup is sacrilegious.” After a little thought, she added, “Besides, if it had been made with tap water, you’d be long dead by now.”
Releasing a long overdue sigh of relief, Monty began to fall back into a seat, which was quickly vacated by it’s occupant.
“Verne, could you get my friend a shot of cheese sauce?” Dee asked.
“Certainly,” the beetle replied, standing to leave for the bar.
“I’ll get it for you!” one of the young ladies offered as she quickly turned for the bar.
“No, I’ll get it!” another stated as she tried to hold the first back.
“Like hell you will!” the first groupie shouted at her rival, grabbing her hair.
As the two young ladies had it out over who would get the cheese sauce for Verne, Verne scurried past and got it himself.
“Thanks rightly, mate!” Monty responded before downing the shot. While Dee was examining the diagrams on the cocktail napkins, Monty leaned over to Verne, who had resumed basking in the adoration of the multitude of young female mice. “Just outta’ curiosity,” he whispered, looking around at all the girls, “what’s your secret?”
“Pheromones,” Verne whispered his reply with a broad smile, “I produced some concentrated male mouse pheromones back at my lab and release them through little pumps in my sneakers!”
As Monty contemplated whether he should artificially augment his natural masculine appeal, 70's dance music started blaring in the human establishment overhead. “Ugh!” groaned one of the ladies, “Everyday, same time, he shows up!”
Another lady, sharing her disdain for that particular human, spouted off, “I wish they’d just ban him! Someone always winds up throwing him out anyway.”
“Maybe they like throwing him out,” Dee offered, tucking away the napkins.
“Check it out!” someone shouted from somewhere near the center of the bar, “It’s John Travolta!”
“Can’t be,” another replied, “He’s not that thin!”
As a growing mixture of cheers and laughter took hold of the patrons of the bar, and since they would be on their way out anyway, Dee and Monty rose from their seats to investigate the cause of the excitement. Neither took note that Drywall was nowhere to be seen... that is, until they arrived at the center of the disturbance. There, in the center of what oft times doubled as a dance floor (and was certainly being put to said use), suited up in a white leisure suit and utterly lost in the bliss of disco dancing, was Drywall.
“Crikey!” Monty declared, “The lad’s got a full blown case of boogie fever!”
Shortly, the music came to an abrupt halt. This was quickly followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps form above as the instigator of the 70's revival was hurled from the establishment. Gradually, Drywall’s moves ground to a halt and he was left staring anxiously about, drumming his fingers together. Wondering why all eyes seemed to be on him, the weasel looked down at himself. “Oh dear,” he stated, “It happened again.”
“What happened again?” Dee asked as she walked up to her compatriot.
“A disco episode,” Drywall replied, “Whenever I hear the first strains of 70's dance music, I black out and when I come to... I’m wearing polyester.”
Dee just stared at Drywall for awhile. Slowly, she turned to Monty. “I thought everyone was exaggerating about your ‘cheese attacks’, Monty,” the mouse stated, “But now I believe.” Grabbing one of the enormous lapels of Drywall’s suit, “Something this bizarre makes your cheese attacks seem logical!”
“Perhaps we should head on back,” Monty suggested, “before anything else bizarre happens.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dee replied as she led the way out.
“Cheese attacks?” Drywall inquired.
==
About the time Dee, Monty and Drywall were preparing to return from their foray, Chip and Gadget departed for the presumed residence of Philippe Marie-Suzon. The Ranger Plane plied it’s way north through the small hollow carved out by a tributary stream that flowed down into the city.
“That should be the clearing there,” Gadget commented as they came to the end of the directions they’d been given by Bob.
“And that looks like the entrance to a burrow there,” Chip added, spying a prominent cavity hollowed out of the face of a small embankment. Landing near the apparent entrance, the two rodents disembarked and cautiously approached. “Hello?” Chip shouted, “Is anybody in? We’d like to speak-”
“Non, non, et non!” came the angry reply from within the tunnel. A clearly outraged frog quickly emerged. “Ze monsieur cannot, must not be interrupted!” the amphibian ordered, “Least of all for whatever foolish, trivial matter philistines like yourselves might have in your puny minds!”
“Golly, there’s no need to be insulting!” Gadget retorted, “We’d just like to ask him a few questions and be on our way.”
Just as the doorfrog was preparing to unleash a retaliatory tirade, Philippe barreled up behind him form the borrow and shoved him aside like so much rubbish... right into Chip. Chipmunk and frog careened into the ground as the rat addressed Gadget. “My apologies, ma cherie, for ze short-sighted attitude of my assistant,” Philippe stated, giving Gadget’s paw a reverent kiss, “He does not realize zat, as an arteest, I live for beauty in all eet’s forms, so your arrival could not possibly be an interruption, but a calling to witness greater beauty than even my skilled paws could produce!”
“Well, now that we’ve established that this isn’t an interruption,” Chip butted in, having recovered from his close encounter of the green kind, “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Continuing to gaze upon Gadget’s loveliness, he knelt down before her so to be eye-to-eye and replied, “You may ask me... anyzing.” For Gadget’s part, she couldn’t help but be flattered by the rat’s attention.
“Did you see anything unusual at the Powwow?” Chip asked, hoping Philippe would acknowledge the question even if it hadn’t come from Gadget.
“Only ze most magnificent creation of Nature’s hand,” he sighed, gently running his fingers along Gadget’s cheek, causing her to blush considerably.
“R-right,” Chip drawled, wondering if he would ever get a useful answer out of the artist, “Did any of your, uh, assistants see anything out of the ordinary... besides Gadget?”
“Zey are not all my assistants,” Philippe corrected, finally standing. He continued, his voice rising in tone and volume as he spoke, “But followers, acolytes, devotees of my GREATNESS!” He finished his declaration by beating a clenched fist to his chest proudly.
“Uh-huh,” Chip replied slowly, wondering if he should perhaps move aside to give the rat’s ego more room, “But did they see anything?”
“‘Ow should I know?” Philippe shrugged, “nor should I care!”
“Then may I ask them myself?” Chip inquired.
“Whatever,” Philippe blithely dismissed, once more enamored by Gadget’s beauty. Chip had just turned to enter the borrow in search of the frog that had wandered inside when he was startled by an ungodly scream from Philippe. Turning back, he witnessed the rat falling to his knees, his paws up upon his head. Gadget was clearly just as startled as Chip as she backed away. “What eez ZAT!!” Philippe hollered, jutting his arms out towards the aircraft in which Chip and Gadget arrived.
“That’s the Ranger Plane,” Gadget pointed out in reference to the semi-dirigible: a bleach bottle with wings suspended under a balloon standing upright upon two spindly plunger legs, “I built it myself out of refuse from a garbage heap and pieces of my Dad’s old plane.”
“Of course!” Philippe cried, turning to face Gadget, “Such genius merged with such beauty!” Jumping to his feet, he began to race towards the craft, then stopped. “It flies?” he asked, looking back to Gadget.
“Well, of course,” the inventor replied, pleasantly surprised that anyone would take such interest in her creation, “that’s how we got here!”
“Zis ees ze greatest masterpiece of utilitarian art I have ever seen!” Philippe declared before bounding over to the vehicle. Gadget followed behind excitedly.
Chip was becoming a little wary of Philippe, not sure whether he was simply an eccentric or a borderline psychotic. Given the possibilities, he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Gadget alone with him to go interrogate Philippe’s following. However, Chip knew Gadget was quite capable of handling dangerous situations, after all, she had singlehandedly taken on and defeated the militant wing of the Cola Cult... one screwball rat shouldn’t pose too great a threat. Placing his concerns on the shelf for the moment, he ventured into the darkness.
After traversing the length of the tunnel, lit only by the sunlight coming from behind, Chip emerged in what he always assumed an artist’s studio would look like, provided it was underground of course. The cavernous studio, lit by numerous candles, was littered with various stereotypical artistic implements such as easels, brushes, buckets of paint, etc. Intermingled with these familiar items were what appeared to be heaps of nondescript garbage. Whether any of it was indeed garbage, future art materials, or object d’art themselves Chip wasn’t completely certain. Occasionally he spied a heap that seemed more vertical than horizontal, these he assumed were statues of some kind. Off in one corner was a pile of blankets and rags just large enough for a rat to stretch out on. Must be his bed, Chip thought to himself. He didn’t dare get too close, it seemed to be a breeding ground for all manner of unsanitary things.
Chip did, indeed, find some of Philippe’s admirers. However, none were particularly polite in their responses to his entreaties for information. The few real answers he received were usually curt and to the point, and never very informative. Chip, unfortunately, could not discern whether their uncooperative attitudes were intentional evasiveness due to having something to hide or merely their intense displeasure at the gall of this outsider who dared violate their master’s inner sanctum.
Outside, Philippe was busily admiring Gadget’s engineering genius that was the Ranger Plane as Gadget looked on, thrilled that someone was taking such intense interest in her handiwork. “Oh, I should warn you-” Gadget tried to warn the rat as he leaned far over into the pilot’s seat. But before the warning could be adequately delivered, that being not to fiddle with the controls, Philippe began fiddling with the controls. A panel on the fuselage just over the rim of the dashboard popped open and a long spring propelled bludgeon flew out, attached at it’s base to a hinge at the top of the dashboard. WHAM-WHAM-WHAM!! Philippe leapt back before his head could be further assaulted by the flailing feature.
“Mon dieu!” the Frenchrat declared as he fell on his backside, covering his head, “Zis reminds me of ze time I ran wiz ze bulls in Trampolaña!”
“That was my security system,” Gadget piped up, “I call it ‘the club’!”
Philippe chortled, in as much as the pain allowed, “Such a truly marvelous take on ze humans’ ludicrously named device!” Taking in the full spectacle of the machine before him, he was overwhelmed by his admiration for the mouse standing nearby. “COME! I must show you my studio!” he declared, “Allons y!” Grabbing Gadget’s paw, he raced off for the tunnel. Once within the subterranean artist’s flat, Philippe began showing Gadget about, oblivious to Chip’s presence.
When most of the frogs in the vicinity were joining in on the guided tour, busily commenting on Philippe’s genius and how lucky Gadget was to be given the honor of viewing his works, Chip felt compelled to do some snooping. He couldn’t help the feelings of suspicion aroused by the frogs’ attitudes towards his questions. The curious chipmunk quietly leafed through reams of drawing paper, peaked beneath shrouds and other coverings and smelling any liquids that he couldn’t immediately identify. Chip soon came upon a work area that had been segregated from the other works. Everything within the area spoke of Gadget... sketches, illustrations, poses, even crude clay models. Chip couldn’t help but admire the sheet covered with various facial expressions, nor could he avoid the concern by such an immediate obsession with his friend. He was about to peak beneath another shroud when he noticed the group inching his way. Chip stepped aside and looked for other things to investigate.
Gadget let out an astonished gasp as she was directed to the artistic ‘shrine’ that her comrade had recently been perusing. “That’s me!” she stated, “At least, I think it’s me. It could be Dee, since we do look exactly alike. But then again you’ve never seen her before her hair was cut.”
“Eet could be none ozer zan you,” Philippe sighed, “Ever since you crossed my path days ago, I have been haunted by your beauty!” Looking back at his sketches, he continued, “Ah, but none of zis compares to ze perfection wrought by Nature’s own hands when she brought you forth into zis undeserving world.”
“What’s under here?” Gadget asked innocuously as she began to lift up the same shroud Chip had been curious about previously.
“NON!” Philippe declared, placing himself between Gadget and the work. “I cannot allow your eyes to be offended by a project which is less zan perfected,” he explained.
Chip noticed what appeared to be a second tunnel leading away from the main studio, and was about to venture within when a frog emerged before him. “What are you doing ‘ere, you trespassing fool?!” shouted the frog, “Zis eez no place for you! Be gone!”
“What eez zis?” Philippe inquired.
“Zis miserable ball of fur is trespassing, monsieur Flippy!” the frog proclaimed.
“‘Ow many times must I tell you never call me by zat ridiculous NAME!?” Philippe bellowed as he grabbed hold of the amphibian. The rat proceeded to mercilessly beat the pathetic frog, much to the horror of his guests.
“STOP THAT!” Gadget hollered as she tried to pull Philippe back.
In a flash, Philippe noticed Gadget’s efforts and dropped the hapless frog. With unsettling speed, the rat regained his composure and smiled benevolently down at her, even as his victim crawled off with the one arm he could still use. “Ah, but I see eet eez time for you and your compatriot to depart,” Philippe stated, “I will not insist that you stay longer, as eet would be an unforgivable crime to deny ze rest of ze world ze opportunity to be witness to your beauty.” Neither Chip or Gadget disputed whether or not they should leave, the studio had become a very uncomfortable place.
Chapter Fourteen
It hadn’t been long after Dee, Monty and Drywall had left ‘The Hole in the Wall’ that Dale and Foxglove showed up. After their time in the park Dale had suggested they stop in for a drink and listen to some tunes, maybe even do a little dancing if the spirit moved them. It had been a bit of a walk in the summer sun, so the chance to duck into a dark and cool locale was quite welcome.
The couple had just finished a round when some loud music started up. For his part, Dale didn’t mind, he often listened to rock music much louder anyway. But for Foxglove, however, it was a different matter. She tried to limit the impact of the sound by repositioning her ears away from the originating source, but eventually opted to simply cover over her ear canals by lowering her ears down along the sides of her head.
Noticing a couple mice taking to the floor to dance, Dale spouted, “Hey, that looks like fun!” Turning to his date, he asked, “You wanna dance?” As Foxglove thought the matter over, Dale realized she was clearly uncomfortable. She was forcing a smile, not wanting to bring down Dale’s good time. “Um, maybe we should return to the workshop,” Dale offered, not wanting to add to Foxy’s discomfort, “Maybe the others have gotten a lead or something.”
“If you want,” Foxglove replied in a neutral tone hoping to avoid sounding too anxious to leave.
As the pair proceeded out of the establishment, two pairs of eyes followed them. Two males, a mouse and rat, sized up the couple: the lady was quite pretty, for a bat, and her escort seemed to be too much of a doofus to be any trouble. They soon tailed the pair outside. One of the pursuers couldn’t help himself and shouted out, “That’s some walk you got there sweetheart!”
“Dale,” Foxy muttered to her companion with a hint of concern.
“Just ignore the jerk, Foxy,” the chipmunk advised as they continued along the sidewalk.
“They’re following us,” the bat pointed out, noting the sound of their footsteps behind them.
“We’re just trying to be friendly,” the other pursuer piped up. The two then jogged forward to close the distance some before slowing back down to a walk.
“Dale, we should do something,” Foxglove pleaded as she took hold of one of his paws, as much as her wing could do so. Then she heard the footsteps suddenly quicken. Foxglove turned her head about just as the mouse put a paw on her shoulder.
“We’d just like a chance to get to know you a little better,” the mouse sneered as he pulled the lady about.
“I’m not interested,” Foxglove stated sternly, pushing the mouse’s paw aside and turned back around.
“C’mon, there’s no need to be like that!” the mouse replied, grabbing Foxy’s wings and pinning them to her sides.
“Hey!” the startled bat protested.
“The lady said she wasn’t interested!” Dale proclaimed, grabbing one of the mouse’s arms.
Pulling that arm back, the mouse placed his palm squarely in the middle of Dale’s chest and shoved him aside. “This has nothing to do with you,” he declared.
Having a wing free, Foxy was about to elbow the mouse in the stomach, but held back when she saw Dale crouch down in preparation to strike. The mouse, having dismissed the chipmunk as some kind of pansy, wasn’t in the least prepared as the ‘pansy’ collided with his mid-section like a furry linebacker. The two tumbled for a space before righting themselves.
“Dale!” Foxy yelled as fists started flying. But before she could make any effort to assist her love, the rat held her back.
“Let’s let them resolve this like gentlemen,” he stated, holding Foxy in place in front of him.
“Resolfe this!” the rat heard someone growl loudly from behind him. He looked back in time to get a closeup view of a set of knuckles. The rat released Foxglove as he struggled to regain his balance following Bob’s initial blow. However, before he could prepare to fight back, the infuriated security mouse grabbed hold of him and flung him off the curb and into the street. The rat had just enough time to stand before a bus passed behind him, close enough for the tires to brush against the tip of his tail. Any fight he had left drizzled out of him as he stood shaking on the pavement. Acting solely on instinct, the terrified rat scrabbled up onto the curb and tore off down the sidewalk as quickly as his four limbs could carry him, his nails scraping loudly against the cement as he ran.
“Get back here and help me you chickenshit!” shouted the rat’s compatriot, now firmly held by Dale in a headlock.
“You’d be runnin’ too in his place!” Dale growled at his opponent. Giving the lowlife’s neck a little squeeze, the chipmunk continued, “Now, I think you owe the lady an apology, right?”
When the rude rodent hesitated out of pure unmitigated arrogance, Dale gave an extra little squeeze. “Gck! All right, all right,” the mouse croaked, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did... a lady like you deserves to be treated a lot better.”
Dale let up on the mouse and gave him a shove down the sidewalk. “Now get lost!” he ordered, then added, making it up as he went, “And don’t let me catch you treating any other ladies like that!” The mouse simply walked off, stroking his neck.
“Oh, Dale,” Foxy shouted as she embraced her defender, “You were magnificent!”
“Yeah, I guess I was, wasn’t I,” Dale responded.
“You probably coulda’ handled both of them on your own,” Bob added.
“Not to sound ungrateful or anything,” Dale began to Bob, “But aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I am at work,” Bob replied, “I’m on my way back from escorting a wine delivery to that rat Dee and Chip were looking for.” After a brief exchange of farewells, the trio parted company.
==
Dale and Foxglove returned to Doohickey’s workshop in time to meet Chip and Gadget returning from their visit to Philippe’s studio. After standard greetings, they went inside where Dee, Monty Zipper and Drywall making themselves busy with various projects or activities.
“So,” Dee began, looking up at the new arrivals, “Find out anything from the rat-frog?”
“We were just about to ask you what you found out about that chemical,” Chip replied. Closing the door as he spoke, it resisted his exertions. Looking back, he witnessed Raven and Fangs materialize out of thin air within the door frame.
“Hey-hey, the gang’s all here!” Dale chimed in as the two late arrivals made their way in.
“Where exactly were the two of you going that required your being invisible?” Chip asked his future stepdaughter in a voice brimming with suspicion.
“Sightseeing,” the girl responded cooly, “Fangs and I usually go around invisible if we’re alone.”
“Okay,” Chip conceded slowly. Turning to his fiancé, he continued, “Since you, Monty and Drywall went out first, maybe you should go recount what you learned first.”
Dee inhaled deeply as she prepared to explain what they’d been told by Verne, but Monty beat her to the punch. “We dodged one nasty bullet at the Powwow, mate,” the Aussie pointed out, “That’s what we learned.”
As Chip looked between the two mice in confusion, Dee elaborated, “That chemical that we found in the corn soup would have been lethal had the soup been made with tap water.”
“It’s a poison?” Gadget asked in concern.
“It could be,” Dee responded, pulling the cocktail napkin from a pocket. Handing the graphical information to her sister, she continued to the others, “Had the soup been made with tap water, once the carbonation had run it’s course- after all the belching, what was left of the chemical would have recombined with the impurities in the water in a way that would make it as toxic as cyanide.”
“You think it’s possible whoever spiked the soup planned to kill people?” Chip inquired.
Dee merely shrugged. “No way to know,” she eventually stated, “yet.”
“This is really strange,” Gadget remarked as she continued her examination of the napkin.
“That beetle said he’d never seen anything like it,” Monty pointed out.
Chip thought things over. “Whoever put that in the soup either knew it was potentially poisonous but didn’t know the soup wasn’t made with tap water,” he speculated aloud, “Knew it was potentially poisonous but knew it was safe in the soup, meaning whoever it was had to know how the soup was made, or had no complete knowledge of the potential outcome and put it in the soup to find out.”
“In that last case,” Dee chimed in, “Whoever did this might have assumed the soup was made with tap water and now thinks the chemical is harmless when added to it.”
“Well, if people start dropping after belching we’ll know that’s what happened,” Raven pointed out.
“But,” Gadget joined in, having finished her examination, “If this is a rare compound, then wouldn’t the person that created it have at least some idea what might happen when it was added to water, purified or not? I would think it would be a little unlikely for some amateur to come up with something this unusual by accident... though it’s not completely unthinkable, whoever did it could be some kind of savant, or perhaps a prodigy-”
“Wa-a-ait,” Dale intervened, “If whoever did this just wanted a body count, why didn’t he just use regular old poison?”
“Dale has a point,” Chip stated.
“I do?” Dale piped up, “I mean, I do!”
“Somebody likely went through a lot of trouble to create this,” Chip went on, “And like Gadget said, whoever it was has to be fairly intelligent, so it seems unlikely that they’d be so careless as to just assume the soup would be made of tap water.”
“At the very least they would’ve checked the soup’s content beforehand just to make sure there wasn’t anything in it that would prevent the chemical from working as intended,” Dee added.
“A basic poison would be far more effective for creating the desired body count without some minor something getting in the way,” Chip finished.
“Assuming ‘whoever it was’ didn’t just steal it form whoever created it in the first place,” Monty pointed out, “and dumped it in the soup just to see what it would do.”
“You’re right,” Chip sighed, “I’ll feel much better once we find out the ‘who’ behind this and what their motive was.”
“Or warn them before they accidentally poison themselves or someone else,” Gadget added.
The group became quiet, lingering on the weighty issue of a possible poisoner on the loose. For Dee, the atmosphere was simply too dark. “We also discovered that Drywall suffers from ‘disco episodes’,” she pointed out.
“‘Disco episodes?” was the universal response.
“Whenever the lad hears disco music he goes all bonzer loco and begins to boogie down,” Monty explained.
“I have a problem,” Drywall confessed meekly.
“I’ll say!” Raven proclaimed.
The thought of a ‘disco episode’ was intriguing to Dale, and he discreetly went in search of a radio, hoping he could find a local station that catered to those lost in the seventies. “What did you find out about Philippe?” Dee inquired, oblivious, as were the others, to Dale’s quest.
“He has an unhealthy fixation on Gadget,” Chip stated coldly.
“I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s ‘unhealthy’,” Gadget countered, “I would consider what he did to that poor frog to be unhealthy.”
“Well, most savage beatings are, Gadget,” Chip pointed out.
“What’d he do?” Dee asked.
“One of his frogs, one of a throng of adoring fans, called him ‘Flippy’,” Chip proceeded to explain, “He absolutely went nuts and began to pound the daylights out of him! He stopped when Gadget intervened and behaved like nothing had happened.”
“Sounds like the lad’s a few colors short of a full palette t’me,” Monterrey commented.
“Did you find out anything useful?” Raven inquired.
“Not really,” Chip responded, “He was too busy flirting with Gadget to be bothered with questions and most of his disciples were uncooperative to say the least. I did a little snooping around but couldn’t find much, partly because there was so much trash strewn about and because one of his frogs stopped me from investigating a room that was off to the side.”
“That was the one who made the unfortunate slip of the tongue,” Gadget clarified, “Philippe suggested we leave after he’d beaten him.”
“Certainly sounds to me like he was trying to hide something,” Dee intoned.
Before Chip could explain to his love that there wasn’t any apparent connection between Philippe and the incident at the Powwow, the workshop was filled with loud seventies dance music. The next thing Chip knew, he was Drywall’s dance partner. Looking about determinedly, the bewildered chipmunk searched for the source of the music. When he found it, there was Dale, rolling around on the floor, laughing hysterically. Chip was spared the effort of trying to escape Drywall’s boogie fever as Gadget made her way to the radio and soon silenced the dance inducing disco.
“Dale, I think it’s very inappropriate to be exploiting Drywall’s condition like that!” Gadget scolded.
As the door to the workshop flew open, everyone’s attention was drawn away from the spectacle of the dancing weasel and the shameful chipmunk. Framed by the doorway was Philippe’s scraggly form. “Ah! I ‘ave found ze studio of ze genius Gadget!” he stated as he strode in toting a large flat object covered in a paint spattered sheet.
“It’s my studio you dip-shit!” Dee protested.
Completely, and intentionally, ignoring Dee’s declaration, Philippe proceeded to address her sister. “Your visit today inspired me to complete, what till now, has been my greatest masterpiece!” Setting his rectangular parcel on one of the wide ends, he continued, “I could not for a moment deprive your beautiful eyes ze opportunity to witness the majesty of what your inspiration has brought me- non, forced me to create! Zerefore, I present you...” with a flourish, he whisked of the sheet and declared, “‘Ze Birth of Gadget’!”
Everyone’s jaws dropped as they beheld the painting. In the center of the artistic rendering, rising from an open toolbox, was Gadget, her golden locks billowing in the wind. On the left flew two winged angels who looked remarkably similar to Dale and Foxglove while on the right a conservatively clad earthly maiden, looking a great deal like Doohickey, was rushing over to cover her sister with a floral cloak. However, it was not the artistic competence portrayed in the work that was cause for the dropped jaws, it was what Gadget was portrayed as wearing... which was nothing. It was Botticelli’s ‘Birth of Venus’ with minor changes. Releasing a startled shriek, Gadget raced over and plastered herself to the canvas, which was nearly as large as herself in an effort to conceal her unclad portrait.
Being unable to conceive of any other reaction to his work from the object of his desire, Philippe interpreted Gadget’s response as positively ecstatic. Sighing contentedly, Philippe explained to Gadget, “Eet ees always gratifying to see one’s work so warmly accepted! Ah, but how could eet not? Eet was ze product of my unparalleled genius inspired by your unparalleled beauty!” Letting go of the painting, he left it to Gadget, who awkwardly carried it over to the nearest wall to set it against (the unoffending reverse facing outward).
“Nobody could possibly accept such filth warmly!” William spoke out loudly, in the closest thing to anger anyone had seen in the otherwise reserved British squirrel, “First to have barged in without knocking, then to show no consideration at all to the lady who manages this business, and in the height of poor taste, portray her sister, before her friends and family, in a practically pornographic manner in a scene purloined from an artist far superior to yourself!”
Puffing out his chest, Philippe responded to William’s harangue, “Hah! What would a Briton know about taste? Now go scurry off and put ketchup on... everyzing!” Addressing the others in general, he continued, “And to zink any artist could be greater zan myself ees nozing but foolishness! I am ze greatest arteest ever! All ozers are mere imitators- I did not steal ze idea from him, he stole eet from moi!”
Crossing his arms in contempt, Chip challenged him, “And how do you figure that? Botticelli died hundreds of years before you were born while the idea you claim he stole from you was just painted.”
“Ah, but I would not expect your puny American mind to comprehend ze facts behind what has transpired, but I shall explain just for ze pleasure of watching the words pass over your head like so many tweeting birds!” Philippe replied arrogantly, “Mozer Nature adores symmetry! All zings have zeir equal and opposite... Zere is no light wizout dark, no up wizout down, no forward wizout ze moving backwards. Zerefore, ze time, she cannot move forward wizout also moving backwards. Zose people you so foolishly call ‘artistic geniuses’ have only ze gift of seeing zis backwards moving time and ‘remember’ ze works zat I have created. Zese ‘artists’, being unable to comprehend zat zese are memories, mistake zem for inspiration.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard!” Raven loudly proclaimed.
Glaring at the youth, and clenching his fist defiantly, Philippe had gotten no farther than one step before Dee growled, “Lay one finger on that girl and I’ll break your legs!”
“Pardon?” Philippe asked, “Did somebody just pass gas?”
Dee vaulted over her workbench only to be snared in mid air by Monterrey Jack. Both mice went tumbling onto the floor while several onlookers pressed in to assist. In the confusion, no one was keeping an eye of Philippe.
That is, until Gadget figured enough was enough. “Philippe?” she called out, trying to locate the rat. He obediently entered her presence. “I think you should really be going,” she stated as more of a command than a suggestion.
“Because eet would please you, I shall go,” Philippe replied in a suave manner, then, stooping to kiss her paw, declared, “Until we meet again, ma cherie!” The rat then departed as Gadget grabbed a rag with which to wipe off her paw.
Once the offending presence had vacated the workshop, Monty and Chip finally released Dee, confident there was no longer an imminent threat of her committing aggravated ratslaughter. Otherwise everyone milled about, commenting on the unsettling events that had just transpired. Eventually, Dee wandered over to the painting. Pulling it away from the wall to examine it. She noticed that the portrayal was quite flattering to both Dale and Foxglove’s physiques, then she realized Philippe’s interpretation of herself. “That worthless piece of toe-cheese! How dare he paint me like this?!”
Chip groaned as he walked over to see what his love’s concern was, hoping he could calm her down before anything, or anyone, wound up in itty-bitty pieces.
“Look at this!” Dee commanded as Chip approached. “Look at Gadget, then look at me,” she stated, motioning towards their respective images in the painting. Chip was actually a little embarrassed to be looking at Gadget in such circumstances and only provided a fleeting glance. But, as he examined Dee’s portrayal, he thought he noticed the source of her indignation. “I look like Olive Oyle compared to Gadget in this!” Dee argued, “I should be every bit as curvaceous! We have practically the same body, after all!”
“Dear,” Chip sighed, “I don’t think this is really worth getting this upset over. Besides, if you’re going to be upset over something, I would think it’d be that big hairy wart he put on your nose.”
Dee leaned in for a closer look, and noticed what Chip had seen much earlier. “That frog gave me a WART?!”
“I though toads were supposed to give people warts,” Dale commented innocuously, something he regretted when he noticed Dee glaring at him.
“Where’s my crossbow?” Dee asked rhetorically as she made her way towards a side room.
“You’re not planning to hurt Dale with it, are you?” Foxglove asked as she embraced her sweetie protectively.
“Of course not,” Doohickey dismissed calmly as she went, “I’m going to kill Philippe.”
Chip intercepted his fiancé before she could retrieve any weaponry. Steering her over towards her workbench, he addressed her in a soothing manner, “There are other ways, more productive ways, to work out your anger. I’m sure once you get yourself into some inventing, preferably of something nonlethal, you’ll forget all about this.” As he set her down on a stool, she toppled over.
Howling in anger, Dee grabbed the stool. It was then that she realized a leg was missing. “And he also apparently stole a leg from one of my stools,” she commented to Chip from her place on the floor.
“I suppose this is as good a time as any,” Fangs broached slowly, “to point out that Raven and I overheard quite a few people talking about various unimportant things disappearing from their homes and businesses while we were out sightseeing... things like chair legs and such.”
“Come to think of it,” Chip thought aloud as he helped Dee off the floor, “That would explain some of the ‘trash’ I found littering Philippe’s studio.”
“Sounds like someone should go over his studio again,” Raven posited.
“I’ll get my crossbow!” Dee chirped happily.
“You’re not going,” Chip stated as he held her back. Turning to Fangs and Raven he continued, “The two of you make a list of things that you heard were ‘disappearing’. Maybe we can send Drywall to Philippe’s place for a treasure hunt.”
