Rocky Rat and the Easter Bunny Case

Rocky Rat, here, the only rodent detective sergeant in the Chicago
Police Department.  I got another story for you.

I was tired that night, wanting to go home and have a brew.  Just as I
turned off my computer and stood up to stretch, a human head stretched 
into my office.

“Rocky,” Sergeant McNut, the desk sergeant, told me, “We have something
for you.”

“Can't it wait until morning, Jim.”

“Pro'ly not.  It's sorta a 'mergency.”

“Emergency?  What can be an emergency at eleven pm on a Wednesday?”

“You ain't a gonna believe it, rat.”

Since he had to hurry back to his desk in front, I rode on his shoulder.

On McNut's desk there was a cage holding a large white rabbit, the guy
sort of shrunk in posture, looking down at the floor of the cage.

“This is Billy Bunny, Rocky,” Jim smiled, shaking his head, and
continued, “also known as the Easter Bunny.”

I let out a sigh.  It looked like not only my night sitting by the fire
with a cold brew was ruined, but maybe the week-end.  After all, it was 
the week before Easter, and I had the Easter Bunny in a cage.

“What's he charged with, Jim?”

“Stealin' women's underwear.  Billy here is accused of stealin'
underwear durin' last year's Egg deliveries.”

I looked down at the cage, seeing the tops of two shy reddish eyes
looking back at me from a bowed head, two floppy ears drooping.

Damn.

“Can you take us back up to my office, jim?  I better see if I can get
him released by this weekend.  Millions of kids will be disappointed if 
they don't get them damned colored eggs.”

“Hey, Jenkins,” McNut yelled across the room to where a burly patrolman
was getting a cup of coffee from a machine, “Take this rabbit up to 
Rocky's room, will ya.”

***

Well, a few minutes later, I sat back at my desk, waiting for the
computer -- still warm -- to boot up, with Billy Bunny, a.k.a. The 
Easter Bunny, sitting across my desk, wearing handirons.

He sat quietly, still looking downward, unable to meet my stern gaze.

“Women's underwear?  What the hell you want with them, Billy boy?”

“I didn't do it,” he muttered softly.

We sat in silence until the computer came up.  I checked the arrest
record.

There had been an anonymous phone tip that morning.  A human detective,
recognizing the need to hurry before the holiday, had taken a mouse 
SWAT squad and raided Billy's apartment, one room of which was filled 
with the aforesaid undergarments.  According to the record, they were a 
real assortment, new, used, clean, soiled, everything from mouse to 
moose garments, even a few pairs of human stockings and panties.

Being the only rodent detective on the Job, I got the case. Damn.

Sitting back in my chair, rear legs on the desk, I asked, “I suppose you
have records of purchasing the ... uh ... merchandise?”

He shook his head.

“Why?”

“I dunno'.  I just like to look at them, and feel the silk, is all.”

“Bunny ... Don't you think that's a little sick?”

“I dunno'.”

“Most rabbits don't collect those things.”

We sat a few more minutes, silently thinking our own thoughts.

“Look, Billy.  Where did you get that stuff, really.”

“I bought most of it,” he told me, finally daring to look up at me, but
still not meeting my eyes. “I don't steal nothing.  I'm an honest  
rabbit.”

“Even the dirty, worn, stuff?” I asked.

“Uh, huh.  Over the Internet.  You go to this site, and they advertise
used underwear.”

“You go to that site, not me.” I replied, shuddering.

“well, yeah.”

“Why, Billy, Why?”

“I dunno'”

I shook my head again.

“What do you mean by saying you bought 'most of it'?”

“I got some from my sisters and cousins.”

“Do they know you have it?”

“I dunno'”

“It says here that we got an anonymous phone call.  Who else knows you
have these, uh, garments?  Someone made that call.  Probably someone 
who doesn't like you.”

“Well, I did show the Tooth Fairy once.  He was over to my place and we
were ... well, we were smoking a little grass.” Billy got a funny look 
on his face. “We had a fight.  I think he has a crush on me.”

I wanted to know who had told on him.  After all, he was presumed
innocent unless we could prove he stole the ... things.  I would hate 
to have to bring it to a judge.  Imagine the effect on all those little 
kiddies around the world, and the mothers that wouldn't let their 
children touch Easter Eggs dropped off by a pervert.

“Are you married, Billy?”

“Uh, uh.  I'm too shy to talk to women.  That's why I got this job.  I
sit alone most of the time, coloring eggs.  Then only have to go out 
once a year to deliver them -- at night.

Well, I thought, if nobody stepped forward to prove he stole them, there
wasn't really any case against the rabbit.  It would be filed away and 
I could investigate it later.  But what could I do, as a caring rat, to 
help the guy?  Maybe put an end to his fetish?

“Are you religious, Billy?  Do you go to church?”

“Uh, uh.  There are strangers there.  I don't like to be around people.”

So that was out.  I couldn't pass the problem off to a priest or
preacher.

“Can I get out of here?  I wanna go home.”

“You'll have to stay, at least tonight, until I can see a judge.  But I
don't think you can be charged.  That's up to the judge.”

Non-humans have different procedures in the Chicago Police Department. 
I could see Judge Oliver O. Owl in the morning.  Maybe, I thought,  I 
could arrange something that would keep it out of the press.  I didn't 
want to be responsible for ruining a national holiday.

“Can I stay here, Officer? Please? I don't want to be in one of those
'tank' things with all those other people.  I'd go crazy.”

“I suppose you'd be alright here in my office.  I can have some food and
drink sent up.”

“Clo ... Close the door, please?” he asked as I left.

On the way home, I stopped off at the cafeteria to arrange for some
sustenance for the rabbit. I figured I'd probably be up half the night, 
trying to think of a solution.  If I didn't think of something, my own 
career might go down the drain along with his.  The  Department is very 
political.  Screwing up Easter certainly wouldn't help me at promotion 
time.

As I entered the cafeteria to talk to the night manager, Mrs. Adams, I
saw a quick flash of white as someone dodged through a door.  All I 
could see clearly was a fluffy white ball of fur.

I knew who it was, Fluffy the Ghost, we call her.  Fluffy is a female
rabbit, the shyest I've ever seen.  She washes dishes and cleans up the 
kitchen at night.

That did give me an idea.

I talked to Mrs. Adams and arranged for some lettuce and carrots to be
sent up to Billy.  I also talked Mrs. Adams into letting cute little 
Fluffy off work for a few days, to work for me instead.  I hoped I 
could put it on my expense account.  If not, I'd have to pay her 
myself.

Then I asked to talk to Fluffy.

She met with me at the back of the kitchen over a cup of tea. I don't 
care much for tea, but Mrs. Adams suggested it to calm shy Fluffy.  
Also that the bunny would feel safer if she could see the cooks working 
across the room.

“... so all I want is for you to spend some time tonight with a lonely
rabbit.  One that might be in trouble with the law,” I told the female 
rabbit, “He's lonely and scared, all alone in my empty office.”  I laid 
it on thick.  Also that she'd be well paid to do it.  I didn't make 
detective in a large police department without knowing something about 
rabbit nature.

“I'm scared, Officer.  I'd like to help, but I'm scared of those
criminals. Did he kill someone?”

“Nothing like that.  Something simple and we'll probably drop the
charges tomorrow.” I paused. “And he's locked up in a cage and can't 
hurt you.”

“Well, I guess so.  It's easier than moping the floor.”

I told her to go up with the food and stay with Billy, to comfort him,
figuring rabbit nature would take its natural course.

In the morning, I stayed out of my office as long as I could, going to
visit Judge Oliver O. Owl, instead.

“You are correct, Detective Rat,” Judge Owl told me, “without any
collaborating testimony, or any other evidence, only an anonymous phone 
call and possession, we can't charge him.  And, oh my God, imagine the 
publicity.” The judge pondered a minute, then continued, “See if you 
can get him to get rid of that stuff.”

“I'm working on it, Sir.”

“I don't know about you, detective, but I'm not eating anymore
Easter-eggs.” He shook his shaggy head and dismissed me.

***

When I finally got to my office, I walked in and saw Billy, looking
somewhat agitated.

“Office Rat, Officer Rat.  Can I call a lawyer or shovel water or
something.  I have to get out of here.”

“You mean 'post bail'?”

“Whatever.  But I have to get out.  I'm already behind one day and night
on my coloring eggs.”

“I can let you out, but why the hurry?”

“I told you, I'm behind, and Tanya wants to come over to help me catch
up.”

“Who's Tanya?  You didn't tell me you had a girl friend.  Maybe she's
the one that told us about you?”

“No,” he shook his head violently, ears flapping against the bars of the
cage, “I only met her last night.  I told her my job and that I was 
behind.  Now she wants to come over today to help me.  And ... And ... 
yes, and I have to get clean my apartment, and get rid of some things 
before she sees them.”

“You mean your 'collection'?”

He nodded his head, finally looking at my eyes.