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第10章

朱迪驾驶着她的巡逻车到处转悠,终于发现尼克正沿街推着一辆折叠式婴儿车。她看到尼克,笑容满面:“嗨!你好。又见到你了!”

“你好,嘟嘟警官。”尼克一脸坏笑说道。

“哈哈哈!”朱迪装作很开心来迎合他,说道,“不对,实际上,我是霍普斯警官,我过来是想就一起案件来问你几个问题。”

“出什么事了,女交警?”尼克问道,“有人偷了锥形交通路标吗?不是我。”

尼克继续向前走,把婴儿折叠车推到了拐弯处。朱迪则一把把婴儿车拉到了他面前。

“‘胡萝卜’,你会吵醒小宝宝的。我还得工作呢。”尼克说道。

“这很重要,先生。我觉得你那价值10美元的梅花掌冰棍不着急。”

尼克看着她,扬起了眉毛:“我一天挣200美元,‘绒毛团’。自打我12岁起,一年365天忙不停。时间就是金钱,所以赶紧走吧。”

“拜托,只要看一眼这张照片就行。”朱迪说着,把奥獭顿先生的那张照片举了起来,“你卖过梅花掌冰棍给奥獭顿先生,对吧?你认识他吗?”

“女士,我谁都认识。我还知道某个玩具店丢了毛绒玩具,所以你怎么不回到盒子里去呢?”

朱迪的耳朵耷拉了下来。“很好,”她说道,“这样的话,我们就要来点硬的了。”她啪的一声压下婴儿车轮子上的夹锁,把它锁在了原地。

“你刚刚锁了我的婴儿车?”

“尼古拉斯·王尔德,你被捕了。”朱迪说道。

尼克微微一笑,被逗乐了:“凭什么?”

“重罪偷税漏税。”她回答道。

尼克的笑容很快消失了。

“对啊……”朱迪继续说道,“一天200美元……一年365天……从你12岁开始。那就是20年,所以乘以20……那就是1,460,000美元——我觉得,我的意思是我只不过是只愚蠢的兔子——不过我们很擅长乘法。不管怎样,根据你的纳税申报表——”朱迪向尼克出示了一些纳税申报表——“你申报的,让我看看这里,是0。太不走运了,在联邦纳税表上造假可是要受惩罚的罪行。坐牢五年。”

“哦,你说了不算,我说了才算。”尼克说道。

朱迪拿出一支胡萝卜形状的钢笔,啪嗒按了一下按钮。突然之间,尼克的声音从这支笔里的扩音器中传出来:“我一天挣200美元,‘绒毛团’。自打我12岁起,一年365天忙不停。”

“实际上,你自己的话让你说话不再算数了。”朱迪说道,“如果你想要这支笔,就要配合我做调查,否则你就只能去监狱里的咖啡厅卖梅花掌冰棍了。”她咧嘴一笑,继续说道:“这就叫买卖,亲爱的。”

小飞在婴儿车里狂笑不止:“她跟你做了个买卖。她比你还会做买卖。你现在是警察了,尼克;你需要一个这个!”小飞啪的一声把他的动物城警察局徽章贴纸粘在了尼克身上:“与警察合作愉快!”说完,小飞从婴儿折叠车里跳出来,步行离开了。

尼克接过奥獭顿先生的照片,仔细看了看。

“开始说吧。”朱迪说道。

“我不知道他在哪里。我只看到他朝哪个方向去了。”

朱迪看着他笑逐颜开,拍了拍巡逻车上的乘客座位,说道:“很好,我们走。”

“那可真不是可爱的小兔子去的地方。”尼克说道。

“别用‘可爱’形容我,”朱迪说道,“上车。”

“好吧,听你的。”尼克爬上了车之后,他们就离开了。 NW7aDtUKBNx5jh+En3PysI8u2KTx6TvQmPtlwA0nEEJ8p/me7w4qBCYWJHcjGYrZ



Chapter 11

Nick led Judy to a place called the Mystic Spring Oasis. The scent of incense wafted through the air inside the gates, and a yak named Yax sat in meditation. Flies buzzed around his unshowered body. “Oooooooohmmmmm,” he chanted. The tone of the buzzing flies seemed to match the tone of his voice. “Oooooooohmmmmm.”

Judy approached Yax. “Hello! My name is—”

“Oh, you know, I’m gonna hit the pause button right there. We are all good on Bunny Scout Cookies,” said Yax, who talked slowly, almost as if he wasn’t quite there.

“I am Officer Hopps, ZPD. I am looking for a missing mammal, Emmitt Otterton”—she showed him the picture—“who may have frequented this establishment.”

Yax looked at the photo and his eyes widened, as if he was about to say something important.

“AH-CHOO!” he sneezed, and flies scattered everywhere before returning to their place, hovering around him. “Yep, Ol’ Emmitt. Haven’t seen him in a couple weeks. But hey, you should talk to his yoga instructor. I’d be happy to take you back.” Yax nodded toward a different area of the club.

“Thank you so much,” said Judy. “That would be a big—” Yax came around from behind the counter, and Judy was unable to complete her sentence when she saw what he was—or wasn’t—wearing. “You are naked!”

“Huh? Oh, for sure, we’re a Naturalist Club,” said Yax nonchalantly.

“Yeah, in Zootopia anyone can be anything…,” said Nick, grinning, “and these guys, they be naked.”

“Nanga’s on the other side of the pleasure pool,” offered Yax. “Right this way, folks.”

Judy’s jaw dropped as she wondered what a pleasure pool was. When they got there, naked animals were sunning themselves, playing, and lounging around. Judy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head at the sight. Nick leaned over to her. “Does this make you uncomfortable? Because there is no shame in calling it quits. We could end our deal right now.”

“Yes, there is,” she said. She was determined more than ever to stay on the case.

“Boy, that’s the spirit,” joked Nick.

Out in the courtyard, Judy tried to act normal. Her eyes darted around, looking for a neutral place to land.

“Yeah, some mammals say the naturalist life is weird,” said Yax. “But you know what I say is weird? Clothes on animals! Here we go. As you can see, Nanga’s an elephant, so she’ll totally remember everything.”

Nanga looked curiously at the newcomers.

“Hey, Nanga, these dudes have some questions about Emmitt the otter,” said Yax.

“Who?” Nanga asked.

“Emmitt Otterton,” Yax prompted. “Been coming to your yoga class for like six years.”

“I have no memory of this beaver,” Nanga stated.

“Yeah, he’s an otter, actually,” Judy corrected, looking over at Nick in dismay.

“He was here a couple Wednesdays ago. ’Member?” Yax prompted Nanga.

But the elephant just shook her head. “Nope.”

“Yeah,” Yax continued. “He was wearing a green cable-knit sweater-vest and a new pair of corduroy slacks. Oh, and a paisley tie, sweet Windsor knot, real tight. Remember that, Nanga?”

Judy couldn’t believe her luck. Yax was a gold mine! She scrambled to write everything down.

“No,” Nanga said again.

“Uh, ah, you didn’t happen to catch the license plate number did you?” Judy asked.

“Oh, for sure,” Yax nodded. “It was 29THD03.”

Judy’s pen moved quickly. “—03. Wow. This is a lot of great info. Thank you.”

Yax smiled. “Told ya Nanga had a mind like a steel trap. I wish I had a memory like an elephant.”

Outside the club, in Sahara Square, Nick smiled smugly. “Well, I had a ball. You are welcome for the clue. And seeing as how any moron can run a plate, I’ll take that pen and bid you adieu.”

Judy held out the pen, but as Nick went to reach for it, she realized something. She pulled it back before he could swipe it. “The plate…I can’t run the plate…I’m not in the system yet.” She put the pen back in her pocket and smiled at Nick.

“Gimme the pen, please,” said Nick.

“What was it you said? ‘Any moron can run a plate’? Gosh…if only there were a moron around who was up to the task…,” she said.

“Rabbit, I did what you asked; you can’t keep me on the hook forever,” said Nick.

“No, not forever. I have”—Judy paused as she checked her phone—“thirty-six hours left to solve this case. Can you run the plate or not?”

Nick stared at Judy, and then slowly grinned. “I just remembered, I have a pal at the DMV.” SVw+e/SNaW40pvP8etGeo4NaImuoXkVpZaBdwzipd4Y7woBFr/LV9/Z5ay4kybhW

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