Dear Editor

  Forty-eight hours of radio silence. The expected cannon to shoot Vulpecula over the edge refused to go off. It had been two days and still not a single news station reported the unexpected disappearance of the squawking bird. Was Apus really so unpopular? Did no one check on his well-being? Barker tried to imagine what would happen if he went missing. There would be national headlines. Search parties from one end of the city to the other would line to find him. Maybe not for his popularity but, at least, because they would want the notoriety of finding him. Maybe it was the proposed serial killer stealing all the limelight. Too much happening at once in Acera for them to care about a single bird.  

   Barker adjusted his collar in the mirrored image from his picture window. His office seemed stuffier than usual. He would have to get onto the white-haired secretary about cleaning the air filters. Turning, he used the tip of his shined shoe to kick the chair around. Plopping down, very un-statesman like, he sighed.  

   It wasn’t only Apus. While that weighed heavy on his mind, he also had to deal with the noise of Logan Norms and the nonsense he spattered on every afternoon talk show he could secure a spot on. Barker had become Norm’s chance for fifteen minutes of fame. Except the fifteen minutes continued to stretch and stretch. It grew out of control.  

   Barker leaned forward, drummed his claws on the mahogany desk and tried to come up with a solution for both problems. There was something there. Right out of his reach, on the horizon, all he had to do was grasp it.  

   A knock on his door tore him from his thoughts. Not giving an answer, he waited for the secretary to get the point and go back to her desk. He had no desire to chit-chat this morning. The knock came again.  

   “What?” Barker forced the words from his throat.  

   “Vulpecula is on the line for you. I paged, but you didn’t answer. He sounded like he had something important and you told me to forward any calls from the fox directly to you without delay.”  

   Barker glanced over to the blinking phone at the side of his desk. He had been too enamored with his thoughts to hear the beeping. For a few seconds, he watched the red-blinking dot. Then, he reached over, cleared his mind, and picked up the receiver.  

   “Don’t tell me you have almost killed another one of my officers?”  

   Barker dug the words into the fox’s ribs. It was spiteful and he wasn’t even upset at the fox. Vulpecula hadn’t truly been the cause of old bird brains’ injury. Shooting a man over the shoulder of another man wasn’t as easy as the movies made it look. A simple slip and the wrong person died. It was only a shame Vulpecula hadn’t chased down the culprit. Now, there was a manhunt going on across Maharris, but it wasn’t for Apus. It was fuel for another round of Norms’ interviews as well.  

   “No. I have something else. Do you remember how I told you I thought Logan Norms was the serial killer in Acera?”  

   Barker ran the conversation through his mind at least twenty times a day. He tried to figure a way to use Vulpecula’s paranoia against him. There wasn’t a shred of true evidence for Norms being a serial killer. That didn’t mean Barker couldn’t find some evidence.  

   “I recall. Must have been right after I picked you up on the side of the road after you decided to run your car into a ditch. I wasn’t sure if the conversation was you speaking or brain damage.”  

   Barker was testier than he meant to be this morning. Life had frustrated him to the point of saying things without a filter. It wouldn’t be good to Push. Pushing Vulpecula would only cause more problems and solve none of the ones he already had.  

   “I want to double-down on the proclamation.” 

   Vulpecula ignored the jibes. The fox was good at only hearing things he wanted to hear. Or he was an expert at letting things slide from his shoulders.  

   “What new evidence do you have?”  

   Vulpecula was quiet. Barker heard him take a deep breath on the other side.  

   “I went to visit Akil…” 

   Barker didn’t let him finish.  

   “You are seeking advice from murderers?”  

   Barker wasn’t truly mad about that. Take any advantage. It was the fact that those two cats were a liability. One Barker should have already taken care of.  

   “I know it isn’t something we should make a habit of, but they said some things that got me thinking about not only their cases, but the other cases in Acera.”  

   Barker leaned back in his chair and adjusted his collar with his free hand. He could imagine the snarky faces of the two cats. They enjoyed playing with their prey before they devoured it. Barker should have seen the arrogance of his own circumstances, but he chose to ignore them.  

   “Are you sure they didn’t prod you in the direction they wanted you to go? Again, they are murderers.”  

   Barker didn’t need someone else tugging on the white fox’s ear. Too many voices meant Vulpecula had other directions he could go. Barker needed him on a path to self-destruction. Not a path to redemption. Having the white fox find out Norms was a serial killer without the right fuel on his fire wouldn’t do a thing. If Norms truly did kill people, then Barker needed to make sure Vulpecula found out in a way that would send him over the edge.  

   It was then that Barker decided on something.  

   “You know what, Vulpecula. I am certain you have your mind full with your case. You focus on that for now. I am going to gather some information on Norms.”  

   “You are going alone to gather information?”  

   Barker couldn’t have the fox showing up unannounced.  

   “I think I am going to pay our friend Vivian Herms a visit.”  

   That was the furthest thing from the truth. Barker had no desire to get Rescue involved, but he knew even more that Vulpecula had no desire to be around his father’s old stomping grounds.  

   “I will focus on what I have here,” Vulpecula said. The pure rejection in his voice almost made Barker give him a compliment to make him feel better, but something else caught the Mayor’s attention.  

   “I have to go now,” Barker said and hung up the phone before Vulpecula could say goodbye.  

* * * 

   Being the Mayor of Urgway left Barker little time to himself in the community. It was the reason he normally chose to travel by alley out the back exit of the Mayor’s Office. Dealing with the crowds was cumbersome at the best of times. With his mind full of other garbage, it was a volcano ready to erupt and burn him in the flames of social justice. Barker ducked his head and dipped into the first taxi he had been capable of locating.  

   “Where we heading today?”  

   The taxi driver turned over his shoulder and investigated the seat. For the first time, he realized he had picked up the Mayor of the city. His eyes grew wide. Barker thought about stepping out of the car, but the alternative was thirty more people just like him with microphones and cameras. He would have to deal with the star struck driver for now.  

   “Take me to West Seeder Subdivision,” Barker said.  

   The driver took a few more seconds to turn around, still trying to gather his bearings.  

   “Not often I get a celebrity in the taxi. My family isn’t going to believe me when I tell them who I got for my fare today.” 

   This was the highlight of the man’s life.  

   “Yes, well, just remember to go vote for me and keep the word strong.” 

   Barker wanted to throw up every time he had to pretend to care about a voter. These people weren’t capable of stringing two thoughts together to make a decision. They needed people like him to guide them on a leash. Without making a sound of contempt, Barker adjusted his collar. The driver took off, slow at first as not to hit any of the reporters still clamoring for an interview or good paparazzi shot.  

   On the road, Barker pulled his phone from his pocket. Searching Logan Norms, he looked for any new articles he hadn’t already poured through this morning or last night. Barker yawned.  

   When was the last time he had forgone planning for a full night’s rest? Weeks, months, a year? It was hard to remember. Barker stuffed his phone back into his pocket. The filthy Norms hadn’t done any writing yet this morning. Too busy on television. Barker studied the greasy smudges on the window of the taxi.  

   The reporter’s fingerprints scattered across the surface like a million dirty bugs. The taxi took a fast turn, pulling him from his haze. Before Barker could scold the driver, the radio played something that caught his attention.  

   “Turn this up,” Barker yelled, replacing the scolding.  

   The taxi driver did as asked. He was probably interested in the topic as well.  

   “Logan Norms joined us this morning on UC10 News and had this to say about Urgway City’s current Mayor, Sanec Barker”  

   Switching from the radio host, the distinct voice of Logan Norms filled the interior of the taxi. Barker instantly felt his mood sour at the thought of the reporter’s smug face. How had he gotten one over so well on Barker? It had to have been the sleep deprivation.  

   “There are people who still think the booming economy, the lowering crime rate, and the tax decline has something to do with the Mayor on the golden throne. Their fruitless thoughts and opinions are a toxic chemical seeping into the drinking water of society. If Mayor Barker had a lick of sense in his mutt brain, he would condemn them for their foolish thoughts. His enlightenment would be to cease their intrepid thoughts and to give back to society by resigning his position. What we are seeing before us is the making of the Canes version two point zero. While we sit back, Barker works in shady under the table deals with criminals. Where did the Shock go? Into Barker’s tax laden pockets. Do not let his reform of the alcoholic white-haired fox, Vulpecula, fool you. The lovable son of the founder of Rescue is destroying his father’s legacy and hard work. Combined, they are pulling us back into the age of crime, lies, and death. I, myself, will not stand for it. Because I stand on my mountaintop today and I declare I will take no more. I may be many things but all of them are filled with value and morality. Let me be your guiding compass, Maharris! Stand and look yourself in the mirror and tell me if you still like what you see?” 

   The reporter came back onto the airwaves. Barker shifted in the uncomfortable seat. Moments ago, he had been the most comfortable he had been in weeks. Now, he could feel every spring beneath him. Logan Norms was a vile human. When Barker said that, he meant it whole-heartedly. There wasn’t a man alive he disliked more than Norms.  

   “Those are interesting words coming from Logan Norms.” The host talked to someone in the room with him, Barker could hear the question in his voice.  

   “They were interesting. One thing I want to point out in the diatribe were the accusations against the Urgway Mayor and the infamous group The Shock.” 

   The volume on the radio muted. Barker shook his head free from the thoughts swarming his mind. The taxi driver’s eyes met his through the mirror. Barker decided against ordering the volume to be returned to normal. There were more important things to worry about.  

*** 

   The first time Barker had met the leader of the Shock, he hadn’t figured they would become friends. Even now, he wasn’t sure that was what he would call the man. They were acquaintances for certain. Men with similar motives. They both loved power. Buntly loved coin just as much as power though. Barker had enough of both to shed a little his way. Enough to keep him appeased, at least.  

   Buntly lived in a grand home on the outskirts of the city. Well above his means, but no one investigated the methods of his riches. Anyone who did would find a hundred shell companies all with legit sources of revenue. None of those companies existed, but Buntly had a way with the web that could make mostly anything appear a reality. 

   “Just stop at the drive,” Barker instructed the driver.  

   The evening was late. Buntly would probably already be drinking his overpriced wine collection by now. Barker planned to pull him from his euphoria. The agreement was to always be ready whenever Barker may have need of his services.  

   The taxi pulled off to the side of the road. Barker threw a couple of coins into the front seat. It would be enough to cover the fare and nothing more. Tips weren’t Barker’s problem. If the driver had wanted something more, then he should have made better life choices. His family ate what the man worked for. It was the way of life.  

   At the gates, Barker pressed the call button and waited. The neighborhood surrounding Buntly’s extravagance was nice. A gated community of rich, stuck up people. This wasn’t Barker’s voting pool. Many of these men and women wouldn’t be canines. Actually, it would be his bet that not another canine lived within twenty minutes of this location. The thought of being surrounded by such people made Barker’s skin crawl.  

   “Who is there?”  

   It wasn’t Buntly, but one of his house helpers. Barker leaned in close to the intercom.  

   “Tell Buntly to put down the bottle. Mayor Barker is here. I expect you will be bringing a cart to escort me to the front door.”  

   The intercom clicked again. The rough voice changed to one of servitude.  

   “We will be there right away. I will let the master of the house know of your arrival. We apologize for any wait you have.”  

   Buntly trained his staff well. Calling him the master of the home. Barker almost laughed at the thought.  

   It took around five minutes for a young canine on a golf cart to arrive at the gates. When they swung open there wasn’t a creak or squeak to be heard. Buntly did well on upkeep. Barker slid into the open seat. The young canine said nothing.  

*** 

   The trip from the gate to the house passed enough time for Barker to think on a conversation he and Vulpecula had right after the white-haired fox’s car crash. It was a simple conversation that eluded to Vulpecula having a sneaking suspicion of Norms being the Acera serial killer. It was something Barker hadn’t placed into Vulpecula’s mind but was an interesting piece to peruse. It meant the source for a new article linking Norms to the serial killer wouldn’t be so far-fetched in Vulpecula’s mind. Having Buntly put that headline on every morning paper would be a special trick. One Barker hoped wouldn’t be caught after printing. Once the papers reached the shelves, there would be thousands of eyes on them. Even a later apology by the papers would do the damage needed for Barker’s purpose.  

   The canine stopped the cart and Barker exited to the side. Waiting for him at the door in an expensive robe was Buntly. A pipe hung unlit from one side of his mouth. The other side had a straw from what Barker would guess was a martini. It looked full. Either he had been drinking and refilled his glass, or all Buntly’s image was for show. Barker figured Buntly liked the idea of being rich more than he liked the lavish lifestyle. Keeping a clear mind was how he achieved all his purposed wealth. It was unlikely he would ever give up the advantage to vices he couldn’t control.  

   “What can I do for you, Mayor Barker?”  

   Buntly drew out the last of his sentence. He wasn’t drunk. Barker could tell. There was no smell of alcohol on his breath. Although the stuff in the cup was strong as ever. Barker pressed past the hacker into the front hall of the home. Before the young pup could follow, Barker pulled in Buntly by the hem of his robe and slammed the door shut.  

   “That wasn’t very friendly,” Buntly said.  

   Buntly didn’t care. He had servants for show too. Most of the time, the canine spent his leisure in the computer room. Rich or not, he enjoyed his craft.  

   “I need something from you,” Barker said, whirling around to face him.  

   Buntly stepped back, letting the pipe fall from the side of his lip. Attempting to catch it before it hit the ground, he unintentionally spilled his glass down the front of his robe.  

   “AHH….” He patted at the new stain with the tips of his paw. “This was expensive.”  

   Waiting for Buntly to catch the drift of impatience, Barker tapped the wall. Buntly did look up from his mishap.  

   “You always want something when you come. Can’t we just have a normal conversation once?”  

   “No…,” Barker turned toward the first open door and slipped into a study room. There were hundreds of books on the built-in shelves. None of them had been read by the looks of the dust coating their spines. Barker avoided touching any of them. If Buntly thought the robe was expensive, he didn’t have half a clue how much it would be to replace this suit.  

   “What do I need to do for you?” Buntly sat across from a small fire. It wasn’t cold outside. There was no need for such extravagance. Barker shook his head. That would be a conversation for later. It was hard to hide when a beacon shone bright.  

   “Tomorrow, on the front page of the morning news, I need an article about Logan Norms.” Barker paused and rubbed his chin. Then stopped, the fox did that, not Barker. He adjusted his collar. “I actually want it to look like it was written by Norms confessing to the crimes in Acera.” 

   Buntly leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. “Did he really do them?”  

   Overexcited. Barker thought Buntly would grow more accustom the longer they worked together. It just seemed he grew more excited with every new mission. A game. That is what Buntly thought of the mission to bring back the Canes bigger and louder.  

   “Does it matter, Buntly?” Barker didn’t feel like having a full-blown conversation about the in-depth plan. There still hadn’t been enough sleep for that. Maybe down the road, when they sat back for a good laugh, then he would divulge his thought process. For tonight, it was enough for Buntly to comply with the request and nothing more.  

   “I guess not. Do you have an article written?” The enthusiasm waned at the thought of him having to write the article himself.  

   “No…,” Barker turned toward the door. “Happy writing.” Barker exited the room.  

   Buntly would be affronted only long enough to remember where his bread was buttered. This was all possible because Barker allowed it. Everything could tumble upon his head with a simple snap. Buntly wasn’t willing to risk it. He would have written a thousand articles if it meant keeping up the illusion.  

   Outside the home, Barker hailed the young canine with the cart over.  

   “I need you to find a car. I would like for you to drive me home.”  

   The canine’s eyes grew large. Knowing better than to argue or mince words, he ran to find those keys.  

* * * 

   There comes a time in every man’s life where things can seem dire and impossible. To overcome, we must form an outlet. Something to plug our collective energy and disdain into. Over the last year, I have found the perfect conclusion to my story. Not everyone finds their fulfillment in this life. Many of us will perish before coming to our full potential. Never knowing what we could have been. Not me. There is something on my chest that I must confess to the world at large. Something so heavy it has become impossible to burden alone. My masterpiece. The work of art I have developed. It is time for the world to see and know the artist at hand. Ladies, Gentlemen, I have a confession to make. The news of an Acera serial killer is true. Open your eyes and see the prize that has been given you. You are lucky enough to live in the same era as the greatest mind in history. My hands have carved a piece of Maharris out forever. Today, you get to bear witness to the accolades. Let the heads roll. Logan Norms is free. 

 
Yours truly, 

Logan Norms