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Trixie Belden and the Anthrocon Mystery

Chapter 7- Arrogance and Anger Equals Trouble


Saturday morning came, and the girls awoke to find Dennis already in the bathroom, quietly getting dressed. "How can you do that?" Trixie groaned. "I thought you got in late last night."

"Early this morning, and I’ve been looking forward to this con." He frowned. "I was looking forward to sharing the con with Honey, but that was obviously not meant to be."

Interesting, Trixie thought. Not only are his humorous comments without humor anymore, but stuff that’s supposed to feel sad or depressed doesn’t sound right, either. Almost like he feels nothing.

"So what’s the plan?" Diana asked.

"Well, I was going to go downstairs and see if any of my friends from Planetfurry are around and want to go to breakfast with me. I’ll probably hit the Denny’s for something that resembles food, at least."

Trixie scowled. "Last night, you didn’t answer my question. When I asked if the suit was why they were chasing you, you said ‘Pretty much’. That doesn’t actually answer the question, Dennis. Why are they chasing you?"

He stared at her. "Y’know, it can be interesting to watch you on a case, but when I happen to be the case...I’d forgotten just how much like a pit bull you can be. Yes, I did not actually answer your question. The suit is in fact part of it, but not as large a part as it might seem. There is something else involved that I am not at liberty to tell you about, and even if I were, I wouldn’t because of how damned dangerous this is. There are people at this convention who are willing to commit murder in order to get their hands on a certain something that is very dear to a number of people. Further than that, I will not say, even if it means the loss of your friendship."

That’s the first completely honest statement he’s made so far since this started! She thought with a start. Why is it, whatever it is, so important? "I don’t think you need to worry about losing my friendship, unless you were directly involved with Honey’s wounding." She started again as he seemed to twitch at the statement. "Okay, spit it out. You had something to do with her being in the hospital?"

"You tell me, Trixie," he barked. "I’m dealing with something so dangerous that people are willing to kill for it. I come someplace I know these people are going to be. And I intentionally invite my girlfriend to come down with me? You tell me if I’m directly involved with her near-death experience!" He stalked out the door, barely stopping himself from slamming it behind him.

"Well, at least he still feels some emotions," Trixie said to a particularly stunned Diana. "He’s been going through the motions for the past couple days." She shook her head and finished getting dressed.


Downstairs, as she walked toward the stairs, she was grabbed and yanked into a somewhat private area; as private an area as you can find on the main floor of a hotel. Whoever had pulled her into the room got several rather rough gropes in before Trixie was able to elbow them rather roughly in the stomach and escape. By the time she’d turned back around, all she was was the back side of a grey anthropomorphic horse costume. She tried to follow the groper, but the crowds were already thick enough to slow her down. She turned back around and continued on her original heading, grumbling.

On the convention level, she ran into Brian, Dan, and Dennis standing together. Dan caught sight of her and headed over. "Trixie, what’s wrong?" he asked. "You look angry enough to bite through wrought iron."

"Some ... thing in a horse costume grabbed me and put his hands all over me, in places no one has touched me before." She was clenching her teeth so tightly that her jaw was starting to hurt.

Dennis went cold, based on the look on his face. "I’ll bet I know who it was, too." As he spoke, several costumed people came by, looking like a herd of horses. The final one in the line was grey, and Trixie noted that he was bent over slightly as well. His eyes went from cold to hot, and he practically screamed "DaneGeld!" and launched himself at the straggler, who suddenly found himself up against a wall, with Dennis at his shoulders. "You son of a b... If you did what I think you did just a couple minutes ago, then I’m going to rip your heart out and feed it to the dogs! And then I’ll pour acid down your neck after I rip your head off! And then I’ll get nasty!" Dennis was roughly pulled off the person he’d slammed into the wall, and he turned to face the people, but found himself doubling over as DaneGeld carefully placed a kick between his thighs.

"Just because I’m a gelding doesn’t mean I can’t defend myself, bastard," a high tenor voice said to the now writhing Dennis just before he fell weakly to the ground. The two who had pulled Dennis off DaneGeld lowered him gently to the floor. DaneGeld watched, and started to walk over.

"Might want to watch out, DaneGeld," Trixie said darkly. "Sexual harassment claims can cause all sorts of employment problems."

"Prove it was me," was the jaunty reply.

"You forget something, DaneGeld," rumbled Mike Regan, one of the two who had pulled Dennis away. "Just the claim runs the risk of getting you bounced from the con. After all, you are notorious."

"Yeah, but he attacked me. Bounce me, and I’ll get him bounced for life."

"DaneGeld," said Dennis from the floor, surprising everyone with how fast he had recovered, "if you ever touch my friends again, I will kill you. That’s not a threat; that’s a promise. If you touch her again, I will hunt you down, and they will have trouble identifying your corpse." With the help of his friends and his crutches, he stood again. "Leave. Now."

Brian and Dan were looking at Dennis in shock, since this was the first time they had ever heard him threaten someone seriously. Trixie was the only one close enough to hear, "She wants something to be scared of, I’ll give her something to be scared of." He looked up and said, "You’re still here, DaneGeld. Be somewhere else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else we’ll decide that you’re inciting a fight, and kick you out, DaneGeld," a red-shirted man said. The shirt said, in large letters, SECURITY. "You’re already on thin ice what with that stunt you pulled last night. If you want to stay at the convention, I’d recommend you go elsewhere. Anywhere but here, DaneGeld," he added as DaneGeld opened his mouth to say something. "If you’re not here, we can’t say you’re trying to start a fight now, can we?" As DaneGeld walked away grumbling, the man in the red shirt turned to Dennis. "Give me a valid reason why you shouldn’t be bounced from the convention for attacking DaneGeld."

"I can’t," he said. "I lost my temper."

"I can," Trixie interjected. "It’s not something I could prove in a court of law, but DaneGeld grabbed me and performed some rough fondling on me. And I was not interested. I mentioned it to my brother and my friends just as DaneGeld was walking by, looking as if he’d just been elbowed in the stomach. Considering I’d elbowed my attacker in the stomach..." She finished. "Please don’t kick Dennis out for trying to protect my honor."

The man in the red shirt smiled. "Thank you, miss. I’d hate to have had to have bounced him out for doing what I think everyone has wanted to do." He turned to Dennis. "Just try not to let it happen again, okay? Unless there are witnesses saying that DaneGeld did the attacking, if this happens again, I’ll have to ban you from the con for the remainder." He looked meaningfully at the assembled group around Trixie and Dennis, and then left, whistling, ‘I Shot the Sherriff.’

Dennis turned around to face everyone, and the emotion he had shown so strongly before was now gone again. "Thank you, Trixie. And thank you Mike and Galadrion for pulling me off him. If I was going to kill him, I guarantee you I wouldn’t be doing it in a crowded hallway with a lot of witnesses." He shook his head, and then shrugged. "Again, thank you all." He stumped off on his crutches toward the doors to the outdoors.

Trixie turned to the rest. "He’s starting to scare me. He’s not the guy we’ve known these last few years."

Brian nodded, frowning, but Dan voiced what the three Bob-Whites were all thinking. "I’m wondering how well we really know him."

"I doubt you have that much to worry about," Mike said. "I’ve seen him explode on the forums before, but there was usually some provocation, and he always cooled quickly."

"I have to echo Mike’s sentiments," Galadrion added. "Remember also that this is a very trying time for him as well. He’d like to be by his girlfriend, but she can’t stand to be near him right now. He’s waiting for something or someone, and both of his female friends that he’s sharing the room with have been attacked. I have to admit that I’d have been tempted to perform a bit of impromptu facial surgery on DaneGeld using only blunt instruments myself," he said, punctuating it with a gentle smack of one fist into the other palm, "rather than helping to pull him off DaneGeld." He looked to Mike. "I never really thought I had the kind of strength that required, Mike. It’s a bit of a pleasant surprise."

They looked down the hallway to the doors that Dennis had stepped through. Mike and Galadrion were surprised to see Clint and Dennis talking in what seemed to be a genuinely friendly manner. It was sealed with a fairly hearty handshake, and Clint limped gently through the door, smiling.

As he approached the group, Mike said, "Don’t take this wrong, Clint, but I never thought I’d see what I just saw." He smiled widely as he said it.

"Hey, I’m not going to stop needling him forever; just for the con and until he and his girlfriend are feeling better. I’m not a total pri...stinker," he laughed, barely changed his intended phrasing. His own eyes went dark, though, and he continued, "He told me about DaneGeld. She really needs to be put in her place."

"She?" Trixie asked, suddenly sensing a new wrinkle to the mystery.

"Just my way of needling DaneGeld. With that high voice, and a real first name of Marion, and a disposition like his; well, ‘she’ brings out the worst in me."

"Oh," she replied, a bit crestfallen, and her brother laughed.

"They can’t all be clues to something, Trixie," he chuckled.

"Noticed you limping, Clint," Mike said. "What happened?"

"Got up in the middle of the night for micturition purposes, and forgot I wasn’t at home. Ran into that thing that houses the fu...flippin’ television set. I’m good; just a little bruised."

"Glad to hear it’s nothing serious," Mike replied. "So, what’s on for today’s doings?"

"I know Dennis had been coming down to see if anyone else was interested in going to breakfast with him," Trixie said.

"I have already broken fast," Clint said, bowing, "and I have a few places I need to be this morning, before things get into full swing."

"I, on the other hand, have not," Galadrion said with a chuckle. "If the group of you were going, would you complain if I joined you?"

Dan grinned a wide grin and put on his best stereotypical Brooklyn accent: "Are you puttin’ da moves on my goil?" He tried to look tough and angry, but the laugh just below the surface was just too evident.

That was enough to keep David from getting flustered. "I am afraid, good sir, that I must answer that question in some general form of the affirmative," he laughed in response.

"Oh, okay. Carry on then," Dan chuckled in response.

Had either Trixie or David been drinking anything, they would have performed classic spit takes. Dan began laughing so hard that Brian had to hold him up. It was at this point that Dennis rejoined the group, eyebrows sketching the obvious question. "This is one of those situations where I really had to be there, isn’t it?" he asked with a smile.

Trixie frowned inwardly. Nothing. At a point when other people would be at least chuckling, he merely smiles a smile without any real meaning.

"You should have seen the looks on your faces, you two!" Brian was laughing. "I wish I’d had a camera ready for that one."

"Well," Dennis said with a further smile, "as much as I hate to suggest it, I think Denny’s is our best bet breakfast-wise, unless we choose to spend too much money on hotel food."

"You really dislike that place, don’t you?" Trixie asked with a ghost of a smile.

"Not really," he replied. "It just seems too much like fast food, and I want something more than that when I’m at a convention. It’s certainly a good enough place to eat. Don’t worry; I haven’t heard anything horrific about this particular one, either."

"Good. We were starting to get a little worried," Brian chuckled.

"Sorry ‘bout that." The group walked to the Denny’s (hobbling in Dennis’ case), and had a surprisingly short wait for a table.


As it approached noon, with everyone having gone their separate ways after breakfast, Trixie was walking the convention area and the lobby, trying to get a glimpse of the linebacker again. Instead, she happened to see Clint and DaneGeld talking against a wall. Neither one looked terribly happy. When she realized that neither one had seen her, she took the opportunity to sidle close enough to hear their conversation.

"...ever catch you doing that again, Marion, I will make you regret it."

"What, you’ll kill me?" came the snide answer.

"No," Clint replied in a voice that chilled Trixie’s blood. "There’s already been a death threat out on you. Besides, if I killed you, how could you regret it? I can do things to you that would make you wish I’d killed you, though."

Trixie heard a gulp. "Point taken, Concolor. I’ll definitely take that under advisement."

"Good. Now get out of here."

DaneGeld shot past Trixie at a surprisingly high speed. Clint walked quietly past her, then stopped, and turned around. "Ah, Miss Belden!"

"Trixie, please, Mr. McInnes," she smiled at him. "How’d you know I was here?"

"Good peripheral vision, Trixie. Call me Clint. I take it you heard the conversation with DaneGeld?"

"Just the tail-end of it," she said, and then winced. "Sorry."

"Well, yes, since he can be something of a horse’s ass, if you’ll pardon the language..." Clint replied with a grin.

"No problem," Trixie grinned back. "Mind if I pump you for information, like I’ve been doing to the others?"

"Go right ahead," he laughed. "Don’t know how much help I can be, though."

"Hey, anything can help," Trixie answered with a laugh.

"Before you start with your questions, I think I can answer one immediately; one I’m certain you’re dying to know. Why is it that Dennis and I don’t get along?"

"Well, yeah, I was kind of curious."

"Unfortunately, it’s no deep dark secret from our pasts. We rub each other the wrong way. Both online and in person, he comes across to me as a bit arrogant and a little too full of himself. He strikes me as being a little too willing to pull out the pity act when things are going wrong."

"How do you mean?" Trixie asked him. "I’ve never really noticed that."

"What do you know about him?" Clint asked in return.

"Well, he was orphaned a few years ago - never told us how his folks died," she replied. "He’s been pretty much alone since then. Never really had anyone in his life romantically until Honey came along."

"Would you be able to classify him as ‘standoff-ish’?" he asked with a slight smile.

She frowned for a moment in thought. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that. I just chalked it up to his life so far. Same benefits as Honey, what with wealthy parents, but they apparently didn’t really give him the affection her parents give her. So he never really learned to relate well with people, I think."

"Now imagine that without benefit of knowing him for a while, like you have, and only meeting him occasionally at conventions."

She thought again, and then nodded. "Yeah, I can see how that could end up causing friction."

"I have no real problems with Dennis; we’re just not ever going to be ‘best of buddies’. So I needle him, he fires back, and we have a friendly little war going on, and he seems to realize that it’s not meant seriously."

"Still bugs him, I know that much," Trixie murmured.

"Anything that teaches a valuable lesson is likely to be bothersome, Trixie. If I can deflate him a bit, then maybe the annoyance will be worth it for him." He grinned. "That one out of the way, shall we go on with your other questions?"

"Well, you answered one of them," he laughed. "Do you think that explains why someone would have wanted him either dead or seriously injured?"

"It’s hard to say, Trixie," Clint replied, thinking for a long moment. "Yeah, he rubs a few people the wrong way, but I can’t think of anyone in the furry community who wants him actively dead. Our neuroses and psychoses tend to run more toward what the Vanity Fair article implied, and those people are few and far between. Worst I’ve ever wanted to do to him is pound him flat a couple times when he said the wrong thing in the wrong way. I can’t say that I can really answer your question. Yes, it does explain both of those, but I don’t think anyone in the community would, if that makes sense."

"I think so," Trixie said with a half-smile as she thought through his statements. "So I take it you wouldn’t exactly trust him?"

"With what? That’s the question you really have to answer. With someone’s sister - probably. With someone’s feeling - less likely. With national securty -who the heck knows?"

"Why that last one?" Trixie asked with a laugh.

"Just an example of what you need to think of when you’re asking if we trust someone. Trust them with what?"

She nodded. "Do you think DaneGeld could do this sort of injury to him?"

"No. DaneGeld is more of the ‘annoy you until you do something stupid’ type. DaneGeld is famous for getting others banned from forums and cons. Trying to kill someone talks balls that DaneGeld simply doesn’t have." He shook his head. "I’m sorry. You can see what I mean about DaneGeld bringing out the worst in people."

"My brother Mart would probably make a pun about people wanting to make wurst out of DaneGeld," Trixie chuckled. "He’s not here, so I’ll do it for him." She paused. "Any idea what he’d consider so important that he’d leave the hospital, and his girlfriend’s side?"

"Not the slightest. I have no idea what makes that brain of his tick."

She laughed. "I’ve gotten a hint that it might have something to do with a costume. What could be so darn important about a costume?" she asked, a bit ingenuously.

"Is that what this whole bullsh...crap is about? A costume? I know people do some pretty impressive ones, but I can’t think of any costume so interesting people would injure for it. Running someone off the road because of a damned costume?" He smacked a fist into his palm, with considerably more force than Galadrion had done earlier in referring to DaneGeld. "Someone was almost killed in that accident you’ve talked about. Someone did a PIT maneuver do drive him off the road for a costume?!?"

"’PIT maneuver’?" Trixie asked.

"It’s that maneuver you guys talked about that caused the accident. A pursuit car puts their front quarter panel against the rear quarter panel of the car being pursued, and then accelerates into the car being pursued. This forces the car out of control." He shrugged. "It’s amazing what you can pick up from The Learning Channel. It’s the short form of Pursuit Intervention Technique."

"Ah, thank you!" Trixie said. "Now I know what it’s called, and what it stands for."

Clint looked down at his watch. "Well, I’m running slightly late. I paid good money for my super-sponsor badge, so I’m going to go eat the food. Talk to you later!"

"Enjoy your rubber chicken," Trixie called after him, which he awarded a short burst of laughter before disappearing. She headed downstairs, to see if she could find anyone interesting down there, and bumped into ‘Fox Mulder’ again. "We really have to stop meeting this way," she chuckled.

"Are you kidding?" came the laugh from inside the headpiece. "This is the only way I get to meet pretty girls!" He bowed slightly, and headed off, but not before saying a jaunty "Adieu, Miss Belden!"

She shook her head, chuckling, and continued onward. Downstairs, after searching for quite some time, she found Dan and the group watching someone sketch Diana. An attractive young woman finished a movement and turned the sketchbook around. Trixie was close enough now to see what it was. She’d never considered what any of the BWG might be if they were animals, but the picture of Diana as a lioness looked somehow perfect. Not an alpha lioness, though, and that even comes through in the picture. But don’t get between her and those she chooses to protect.

She was going to say something more when she saw Shirh Khan and a blonde man walking in her general direction. "Back in a second guys - beautiful picture, miss," she said in passing as she headed toward them. The blonde man saw her and pointed her out to Khan, who looked up and smiled.

"Ah, Miss Belden," he said. "Don’t take this wrong, but I take it that it’s my turn?"

"Trixie, please. Actually, I just wanted to find out when I could talk to you about this a little more. If you’re busy..."

"If this is important, I can always meet up with you later, SK," the blonde said.

"No, she’ll want to talk to you as well, once she finds out you know him," Khan laughed. "Trixie, this is Beau Wolff, real name Jonathon Northwood."

"Oh? I’ve read your stories, Mr. Northwood. If I’d known you were going to be here ..." she laughed. "So you’re the Beau that FawkesFyre was looking for yesterday?"

"Guilty as charged, dear lady. How is Fawkes doing?"

"I don’t know him very well, but he seems to be doing all right. Happy enough to be here, from what I could see."

"Good, good. What is this driving force that propels you about the convention, looking to question people?" he said with a smile.

"Remember how I told you Kynsfyr was in an auto accident? Her best friend was in the car, and took the worst of the collision. She thinks that it’s connected to the convention. Is that a fairly concise recap of the situation?" Khan asked, turning to Trixie.

"Perfect," she laughed again. "I’m asking people who know him about a few things, in hopes of figuring this out. I intend to be a private detective someday."

"Excellent. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor, Miss Belden," Beau said. Her eyes told her that he was dead serious.

"Mind if I question both of you while I’m right here? Shouldn’t take too long, I hope," she said hopefully. Both men chuckled slightly and motioned her to continue. "Let’s start with the obvious one first - what do you think of Dennis?"

Khan spoke up first, grinning. "What should I think of him? What do you think of him? You know him well enough to ask me my opinion of him ... what’s he like when he’s not his online self? I can only tell you what little I know of him."

"Okay then, what’s he like online?" Trixie asked.

"Now that I can answer. He's a bit of a cocky type, sliding just a bit into arrogance, but if someone calls him on it, he’s quick to try to make things right. I’d think that his cockiness might get him into trouble sometimes, though."

"Why?"

"It’s easy to say the wrong thing to someone online. When you’re typing out your words, it’s hard to press the inflections of your voice of the cold sterility of a screen. So sometimes you could say something to someone in jest, and they might take your words the wrong way. His cockiness could potentially be taken as full-blown arrogance, something that someone else might find upsetting."

"How about you, Beau? What do you think of Dennis, taking into account the things that Khan pointed out?"

"You mean about online and offline personalities? I think that Dennis, for the most part, seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time as far as this scenario is concerned. What I’ve seen of him online, I’d say that he’s trying desperately to keep everyone around him safe without admitting that he needs help to do that. I’ll also bet that he’s not admitting that those same people may not want to be protected, and would rather be involved in protecting him." He looked meaningfully at Trixie, which made her blush.

"Well, would you trust him?" she asked.

"I would trust Dennis as far as I ever trust anyone," Beau replied. "If I knew him as well as I know, say, Galadrion or Fawkesfyre, then I’d most likely trust him to a deeper level than I currently do. As things stand right now ... he sets off a few ‘janglies’."

She looked to Khan, who replied, "Would you trust him? Would you trust me? I mean, how can we really trust anyone? Everyone has the capacity for doing great deeds of good, and terrible acts of evil. I don’t even trust myself, at times, especially because I know just what I’m capable of, so I can’t really trust someone else when I can’t trust myself. On the other paw—hand, excuse me; I’ve spent too much time being a furry person online—but, as I was saying, on the other hand, I don’t have any reason not to trust him, so why shouldn’t I give him the benefit of the doubt? But then again, there are things about him that I don’t know, and I will always have to have faith that I can trust that those things I don’t know won’t be things that come back to hurt me. And in thinking some more about your question, should I trust you? I mean, you’re asking an awful lot of questions, especially about Dennis, and while I don’t know him all that well, I don’t really know you at all. Maybe I shouldn’t be so trusting of you, asking questions about someone who I like to think of as a friend. What is it that you’re after in asking me the questions you are? I think if you’re going to get this personal with me, that you owe me some answers."

She opened her mouth to snap back at him, but clicked her mouth shut as she thought for a moment longer. "You’re right," she finally said. "I like to think of him as my friend, but I want to know why the hell someone shoved him and my best friend off the road, and I fully intend to see that person in prison. And honestly, if Dennis was a knowing part of this, then I’ll work at seeing him in prison, too. I don’t like thinking that about my best friend’s boyfriend, but it’s a fact I have to face. Someone almost killed my friend, and I’ll know why."

"Even if you don’t like what it tells you?" Beau asked.

"Even if," she replied. "Justice needs to be done." She turned to Shirh Khan. "Ask me what you will, sir. I’ll answer to my best ability. Quid pro quo, I think it’s called."

He smiled. "Maybe later. You tell me quite a lot with that offer alone; perhaps more than you know. What’s your next question?"

"It sort of blends together. Why would someone force him off the road? Why would they want him dead or injured? Third and or fourth is ‘Who, if anyone, at the convention is likely to try to do that kind of damage to him?’"

Shirh Khan started this time. "Well, I’m certain that there are plenty of reasons why someone would try to purposefully run another off the road, but I can’t say that any of the reasons are really good ones. I guess it would depend on who the people involved were. I wouldn’t try to guess without knowing at least that."

"It could honestly be anything as the reason," Beau interjected. "Jealousy, intrigue, ‘road rage’, a case of mistaken identity, seeking to keep someone from revealing something, a drug deal gone wrong, uncorrected sociopathic tendencies ... mind you, those are any number of reasons; I don’t say that I ascribe any validity to any of them." He shrugged. "The same goes for the reasons for wanting him dead or injured. Keep him from revealing some secret; keep him from finding out a secret; some sort of misplaced rage; revenge for a real or imagined slight, the list really goes on and on. Not enough information on my part for a real answer."

"It’s news to me that someone wants him dead," Khan said. I can’t think of why someone might want him dead. What do you know about it?"

"Just that the maneuver is dangerous enough that it can kill someone if done wrong. Logic says that the person doing it really didn’t care if he died, at the very least, or may have wanted him dead, at the worst." She grimaced. "No one here seems to think that anyone at the convention could do that sort of thing. Annoying, because Dennis’s attitude screams that he thinks the culprit is here."

Khan shrugged. "I can’t say I know enough people to hazard a guess. I’m familiar with the PlanetFurry crew, since we all seem to talk to each other, but I can’t vouch for the other thousand or so furries here. As far as I know, we all generally like one another. I don’t know anyone in our group who would have that much hate in their hearts to want to kill him. Concolor and Dennis fight with each other, but there’s no real hatred there, from what I’ve seen."

"If the Feds were here, I’d suspect them," Beau said with a laugh.

Trixie’s eyes went wide. "Why?"

"You act like they are here, miss," he reacted with some worry. "I was merely joking when I said that. Are they here?

"I think so," she answered. "I’ve seen at least one man who seems to simply scream ‘Federal Agent’ in the way he dresses and carries himself. I don’t think he’s someone just trying to pass himself off as one."

Khan’s eyes widened. "Feds? Oh, holy Christmas." He grinned. "Sorry- that’s my ‘trying not to swear’ swear word. I’d heard from a few other furries that a few media types snuck in to the con one year, and then reported about all the worst aspects of it they could find fit to print. I’d imagine the Feds are here as much to keep an eye on us weirdos as to keep watch over some of the true crazies who might wanna hurt us. We might be weird, but we’re only here to have fun."

Beau nodded his agreement. "For all we know, they may have been tipped off to drugs here, there could be a vice issue, they might be ‘closet furs’, they could be here for that costume I’ve heard so much and so little about. Then again, they might be something other than Feds, and are good at posing as them."

"You say ‘they’. Why?"

"If they are Feds," Beau replied, "they aren’t likely to send someone here singular. I’d bet money that the one you pegged may be here as obvious bait, to drive whomever they’re here for out. I’ll bet that there’s another one in a position no one would suspect."

She nodded. "I hadn’t thought of that." She scowled. "I wonder if they’re involved in this thing he’s doing. I know that his costume has something to do with it, but that’s not all. I’m just wondering what about it is so ... damned ... important to keep him from paying more attention to his girl, lying in that hospital bed down the road." She blushed. "Sorry, I don’t curse often, but it seemed to fit."

Beau simply said, "He may have a very important meeting here, with a patent official, or one of those Federal agents; a meeting he couldn’t really reschedule."

Khan grimaced. "As far as I know about him and his mythical girlfriend - but, I guess I can give him the benefit of the doubt, as you’re here and you say you know her- right? Anyway, I don’t believe he’d leave her side unless something else even more important came up. Maybe if someone was trying to run them off the road, he came to the convention because he has an idea of who it was and wants to be the first to kick their ass? I think that that would be the only reason I’d leave my wife in the hospital to visit this con; I love being a furry person, but real life - and my family - come first."

"I can understand that," Trixie replied. "He certainly acts like it’s that important. I can’t shake the feeling that he knows who it is - he’s warned me that the person is willing to kill to get what they want, and that if I get in the way, that person might decide to remove me as an obstruction." She looked at Khan again. "Trust me as to her existence. She’s lying in a hospital bed as we speak, after they rebuilt her from the crash."

"Apologies, but you have to understand that he raves about her, but has refused to post even the simplest picture of her. After a while, the rumor gets to be that he created her out of whole cloth."

"He chose not to because of her parents. Matthew Wheeler is her father." Khan shrugged, but Beau’s eyes widened slightly. "You know him?"

"I’ve never met the man, but I suddenly understand Dennis’s reluctance to post photos of her." He turned to Khan. "He owns the company that published my last two books. A small publishing house called Random House. He’s extremely wealthy. How’d they meet?" he asked, turning back to Trixie.

"He moved into the area a few years ago. After I solved the mystery, such as it was, of the weird things happening around his house, we started to become friends. I know he’s a genius with electronics and a few other things - he’s put a lot into that costume. I just wish I knew what was so important about a stupid costume."

Khan spoke first. "That depends on who put the costume together. I mean, imagine: you’ve put a lot of time and not a little bit of money into creating something that you want to be able to show off to other folks who think like you. Wouldn’t you be a little bit p ... annoyed if someone came along and tried to wreck your creation? Personally, I can’t see the desire to create something like that, but as a fellow artist, I know that we all like to be appreciated for our efforts, and I’d imagine that I’d be just as upset over someone spilling a drink on one of my books, as a fur suited furry would be upset over someone trying to wreck his costume."

Beau interjected, "The costume could incorporate any number of innovations: a hydraulic wing set that actually allows gliding flight, laser-tracking eyes, full-feature facial animatronics controlled by an encapsulated-gel mask, micro-cell batteries that are self-recharging, a micro-dynamo system to increase strength, a gyroscopic stabilizer to allow comfortable digitigrade movement, a demi-cloaking unit to subtly disguise features, a new camera design to emulate eyes but allow a more broad-spectrum view of what's going on outside the suit, a vocal harmonics unit to completely change the voice … that’s just a few things off the top of my head. If he’s managed to fit any one of those things into a suit that can be comfortably worn, then he’s got a serious money-maker there. And that could explain the attempts on his life."

Trixie blinked for several seconds, and hoped that it came across as information overload. That costume could be worth millions? I know it’s got a face that looks real when he talks, as well as that voice, and I’ve seen the thing fly. He’s probably got the camera idea in there too, or else it could get pretty dangerous to fly that at night. "I can’t think of anything else right now," she finally said. "I think I’ve got too much as it is." She looked at Khan. "I will answer those questions later, when you decide."

"Actually, you’ve answered a few of them already, Trixie. If I come up with others, though, I’ll remember to ask them," he smiled. The two of them walked further down the hall after Beau wished her luck on her investigations.

She walked back over to the Bob-Whites, shaking her head. Seeing that it was only them around, she huddled them closely and said, "I just found out that his costume may be worth millions of dollars to him. The blonde guy, Beau, doesn’t know it, but he just described at least three things in that costume, any one of which he said is worth a lot to the inventor."

Mike and his wife came down with Evan, with Keith and his wife shortly behind them.. "We’re going to get seats for Uncle Kage’s Story Hour. Come on in and listen; he’s funny," Mike was saying.

"More than that," Keith was saying. "The man is hilarious. And they aren’t jokes aimed at furries, either. You’ll get them." He started laughing. "Remember the story about locking his keys in the car?" Mike laughed as he nodded.

"Sounds like we need to hear this guy," Brian said. They joined the Planetfurry crew in the ballroom, which was already quite filled.


"What did you learn today?" Mart asked a little later, after they’d laughed themselves hoarse listening to Sam Conway, aka Uncle Kage do at least an hour’s worth of stand-up material, all about his latest set of misadventures.

"Well, I know what the name of the maneuver was that moved them off the road," Trixie replied. "Beyond that, a little bit of new things, but nothing major. No one here at the convention seems geared to doing that sort of thing."

"What’s the maneuver called?" Dan asked.

"Clint called it the PIT maneuver, Pursuit Intervention Technique."

Dan’s eyes widened. "That answers a big question right there, Trixie. Our culprit driver was trained by the police; may even be police."

Trixie’s jaw dropped. "So he was wanted by the police? He was running from them?" She sat down hard on the floor. "That explains a lot of the evidence at hand, if you think about it. A police maneuver is used to drive him from the road, and given the speed he had to have been moving when he struck that tree, he was probably evading pursuit. It would also explain why Honey’s so scared of him." She blinked again for several seconds. "Plus, I overheard him talking to that guy in the ‘Fox Mulder’ costume. He’s delivering something to him on Sunday." She scowled. "But if they were after him, why wasn’t there a police presence at the hospital for him? Were the Feds the ones doing it, and they got chased off?" She shook her head. "Either way, I think I need to find the linebacker Fed and let him know something is up." This doesn’t add up, but it’s certainly making Dennis look worse. Maybe we don’t know him very well."id="Layer 1">


Beatrix "Trixie" Belden, Mart Belden, Brian Belden, Dan Mangan, Diana Lynch, Mr. and Mrs. Lynch, Matthew and Madeleine E. Wheeler, Mr. and Mrs. Belden, and Madeleine G. Wheeler copyright Random House

David "Galadrion" Adrian, Shirh Khan (Kaye), Clint "Concolor" McInnes, Evan "Cateagle" Mayerle, Mike "Old Gray Raccoon" Regan, Dorothy "Catspaw" McComb, Keith "FawkesFyre" McComb, MeJeep are used with permission, and are copyright and trademark their parents.

Any others not so mentioned are copyright 2003-2004 Keith E. McComb

Any resemblence to other people, living or dead, or situations is purely coincidental, and no harm is intended.


 Chapter 6 Chapter 8

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