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_ "All they can get me for is running a funeral parlor without a license." _ - John Wayne Gacy, serial killer who murdered thirty-three young men and boys and buried them in the crawl space of his house.

Police work could be a very stressful, tricky business, mired in legal red tape and bureaucratic nonsense. Detective Leo Lowenstein, having conducted several interviews with those who knew Isaac Burwell, was convinced that the big tiger had some paw in the disappearance of at least three females. It couldn't be mere coincidence that there were now two missing females who had lived next to the tiger. A huge red flag, Mr. Weston's revelation that Isaac had given notice that he was vacating the very day all the tenants in Wuthering Heights had been given a letter informing them about the installation of video cameras; video cameras that were being installed in response to the sudden disappearance of Emma Chapman, a tenant of Wuthering Heights. More recently, Cassie Foreman, who coincidentally lived on the same floor as Isaac--just as Emma had lived on the same floor as Isaac in his previous place of residence--had now dropped off the face of the earth. All her activity, cell phone use, bank transactions, credit card purchases and even logins to social media sites had just stopped. If all that wasn't enough, there was actual video footage of the tiger leaving Leinster's Irish Pub and Grill with the most recent missing person, Natasha Klimenko. The last time anyone had seen her alive was at that location, and the last person to see her alive was Isaac Burwell. It was all too much for a veteran investigator like Leo Lowenstein, who wondered how many other missing females could be connected to the tiger, and how many more missing females might the tiger be responsible for if he wasn't stopped.

This was more than enough for the leopard to get a search warrant, that is until he talked to his boss, Captain Murray.

"No, Leo," said the serval. "You don't have enough evidence for a judge to sign off on a search warrant."

The leopard wasn't about to give up that easily. "Al, I've got two females that this guy lived next to who are nowhere to be found, and then I've got video of him leaving Hugh's place with the panther! That should be enough!"

"It's not," informed the serval, getting a box of candy out of his desk. "You know what a judge is going to tell you? They'll say that the vixen and she-wolf are just a bizarre coincidence and all Burwell has to do is say that he went home with the panther, fucked her, left, and anything bad to her happened subsequent to that. You're wasting your time, Leo."

Still, the leopard kept pushing. "Al, I'm telling you this guy is definitely involved! Did you read my report where his co-worker said he flipped out on those girls? How he keeps giving the female clients at his gym these nasty, hateful looks?"

"So he needs anger management," snapped the serval. "Talk to the department shrink, he'll tell you that you probably need it too."

"You're such an ass wipe," the leopard snapped back. "No wonder your wife left you."

The leopard's last remark had crossed the line. Rising to his feet, the serval got out from behind his desk and got right in Leo's face. His eyes glaring contemptuously at his subordinate. "One more remark like that, and I promise you that I will personally bust your ass down to traffic. You got that, Detective Lowenstein?"

It was all Leo could do not to lash out, either verbally or physically at the serval. He was at the end of his tether with his Captain, with the department, and the cases where Isaac Burwell was the prime suspect in the disappearance of at least three females now. Hard as it was, he managed to calm himself down, if only to avoid punching the Captain and proving his point that he did need anger management. Still breathing heavily, it was actuallythe serval that made the effort to deescalate the tension in the room.

"Look," he said, taking a step back. "You might be right about this Burwell having something to do with these girls disappearances, but you need more physical evidence."

Leo sighed, as much as it pained him, he knew that Captain Murray was right about his lack of evidence.

"Leo, last year the city paid out over $10 million in damages to beasts claiming they were either harassed or brutalized by this department. If you bring Burwell in here with what you have now, I guarantee you that even the most incompetent bull washing lawyer is going to threaten a suit against the city, maybe even you personally. You don't want that."

The leopard threw his paws up in frustration. "So where does that leave me, Al?"

"Right now it leaves you with a lot of unanswered questions, but I think I might be able to give you some help with your case."

Leo snorted derisively. "You mean to tell me that you're gonna go out on the streets after all these years. Damn, I'd pay money to see that."

The serval curled his lip in anger. "No, you smart ass, I mean I'm giving you a partner to work with on this one."

"What?" was Leo's response. "Oh no, I don't want another partner right now, Al."

"You don't have a choice," said the serval in a fatter-of-fact tone. He went over to open the door to his office. "Shannon! You get your ass in here right now!"

Leo watched as a young, tall jaguar entered the Captain's office and stood at attention. "Yes, sir?"

"Shannon, you give whatever it is you're doing over to Mahoney, okay? I'm reassigning you to work with Detective Lowenstein, understood?"

The jaguar turned his attention to Leo, extending his paw. "Nice to meet you, Detective! Name's Jay Shannon!"

Much to his chagrin, Leo shook the jaguar's paw. Something about the name sounded familiar to him. "Wait . . . you any relation to another Jay Shannon who works over at the seventh precinct?"

"Sure am!" responded the jaguar cheerfully. "That's my Dad!"

Rolling his eyes, Leo opened the office door to leave. "Come on, Junior. Let's get to work."

Jay happily exited the office, wanting to get right to his new assignment. Leo stuck around just long enough to give the Captain a dirty look, but was careful not to say a single negative word. He knew he was walking a tight rope.

The whirring sound of the vacuum cleaner filled the apartment. Isaac didn't have any clients until later in the afternoon, so he did what he always did when he wasn't working or working out; he cleaned his living area. Never one to be satisfied with simply running his expensive, swivel head vacuum cleaner back and forth a few times, the tiger got down to the nitty-gritty of household cleaning, breaking out the crevice tool, the attachment for cleaning upholstered furniture, and every other tool that was included in the box when he had the vacuum cleaner delivered to his apartment. What might have taken most beasts a mere half an hour to clean, Isaac spent hours cleaning, meticulously scrubbing the linoleum floor kitchen, the counter tops, everything in the bathroom, especially the sink and toilet bowl. The tiger even went so far as to wash the vacuum cleaner's canister out with bleach water after emptying it.

Once he had finally finished the vacuuming, mopping and scrubbing, he went into his bedroom to remove the sheets for washing. Pulling off the comforter, pillow cases, sheets and coverlet, he stopped momentarily in mid task. Looking at the ornate cherry wood headboard. He admired the care, precision and craftsmanship in his new tally mark, which was not just at nine anymore, but ten. Two nice, perfect sets of tally marks were now visible. Forgetting about the bedsheets, Isaac sat down on the bare mattress of the bed, running his paw along the indentations in the headboard. Closing his eyes, he reminisced the events of the previous night. He'd still been thinking about Natasha when he went out in the evening to get a carton of orange juice for breakfast the next morning. He was just minding his own business, walking down the street, when someone approached him. It wasn't a bad neighborhood that he lived in, but that didn't mean it was crime free either. Getting into a defensive position, he watched as the darkened figure walked into the light of a street lamp, revealing the form to be that of a female ocelot. Slowly, the tiger dropped his guard as he took note of the ocelot's attire. Her ostentatious display of cheap jewelry, excessive make up and fur tight, revealing clothes let him know that she wasn't a college girl. He gave her a warm, disarming smile.

"Hi," he said in a gentle voice. "Can I do something for you?"

The ocelot rub her paws along her breasts, trying to entice him. "That depends . . . you got any green?"

Isaac looked around quickly, making sure there were no cops in sight. The coast was clear. He removed his wallet from his back pocket, showing her the inside of it was stuffed with plenty of cash. She licked her lips, thinking about the payday she would soon receive. "How about a C note?" she offered for her services.

Isaac's smile widened. "It's been a while since I've had any . . . company. How about I give you $250 for two rounds, hmmm?"

She raised her eyebrows, clearly finding his proposal to be an agreeable one. "Sure thing, hot stuff. You got a place we can go?"

He motioned westward in the direction of his apartment. Following the big tiger, the ocelot walked into his apartment building to turn the last trick of her life. Entering the apartment, she saw that the tiger was clean, obviously well employed. Ever the gentle beast, he motioned her in the direction of his bedroom. She was surprised when the tiger gave her the money in advance, telling her that he trusted her. As both beasts shedded their clothing, she saw the tiger pull out a condom and unravel it around his large, hardened prick. Lying on her back, she was quickly met with him shoving his cock into her love tunnel, pushing her vaginal walls wider than ever before. Being a prostitute, she had long ago ceased caring about being pleasured in bed, but this tiger was so unbelievably good! His muscular frame plowed away at her well used cunt. She couldn't believe what was going on, it felt like the tiger was actually speeding up, then slowing down his pace so she could actually achieve orgasm! She threw her head back, her eyes closed, she got ready to have that almost forgotten, but intensely pleasurable feeling engulf her like a wave washing over the sands of the beach. Harder and harder he fucked her, until he heard the soft, whimpering sounds of her cumming. Quickly, he hurried up his pace, finally growling as he dumped his seminal load into the latex shield covering his prick. He got off the bed, seeing that the ocelot was still basking in the afterglow. Going into the bathroom, he threw the used condom into the wastebasket before washing off his cock and returning back to see the ocelot still lying on the bed.

"I hope you had a good time," he told her, running his paws along her breasts, petting her softly.

"Oh," she said. "Why can't more guys be like you?" she asked, giving him a sly smirk.

"I'm ready for round two," announced Isaac, climbing back into bed with her. "You good to go?"

"Sure," said the ocelot, as he continued running his paws along her breasts. "If it was anything like the first round, I'm ready!"

"Trust me," said the tiger, grinning from ear to ear. "You just close your eyes, and I'll give you something you'll never, ever forget."

That sounded absolutely divine to her! The first romp had been the best she ever had, but now he was claiming it was going to be better? She couldn't wait for this!

Gently, the tiger moved his paws up to her neck, feeling her soft, velvety feline fur, and like all the other times, it happened. With lightning quick movement, the tiger's paws were around the throat of the ocelot, completely depriving her of oxygen. She struggled to get free, kicking and flailing her arms as the big tiger picked her up as though she weighed nothing. His cruel, sadistic eyes were ablaze with madness as he snarled at her.

"You disgusting little slut," he breathed hatefully at her. "This is what you deserve!"

He watched her struggle for a few more seconds before he jerked her head to the side, breaking her neck. Her head hung to the side as he looked at her cold, dead eyes. Disgusted, he threw her corpse on the bed before getting his pocket knife from the dresser drawer. Carving the tenth tally mark into the headboard, he grumbled to himself, ambivalent about what just happened.

"Nobody's gonna miss a street whore," he said to himself. "But now I have to go bury this garbage in Slut Cemetery tonight!"

This was getting old, the tiger thought to himself. If no one cared about this little bitch, why bother to drive out to the country at this time of night? He had a life to live, and he wasn't going to waste it on this slut.

Jay Shannon Jr., the young jaguar detective had been assigned to work with veteran cop Leo Lowenstein, much to the chagrin of the older leopard. Leo had either worked by himself or made use of temporary partners since Hugh Leinster had retired three years ago. Try as he might, he just couldn't let anybody take the place of the greatest partner a guy could ever have, especially some wet behind the ears little kitten like Junior. Leo scoffed as the young jaguar kept coming up with theory after theory regarding what was really going on with the senior detective's case. It was getting to be very, very tedious.

"Maybe they were sold into sex trade?' suggested Jay, constantly clicking the ball point pen in his paws.

"I checked Burwell's financial records," griped the leopard. "If he's getting any money from selling sex slaves, he's certainly not putting it into his bank account. You see you have to . . ." the noise of the constant pen clicking had finally exceeded Leo's tolerance threshold. "God dammit, would you stop that fucking pen clicking?" he shouted at the jaguar, gaining some stares from the other detective's in the squad.

"Sorry," apologized Jay, lowering his head and his tail. "Bad habit."

Leo continued scowling at the jaguar, wondering how he was ever going to have the patience to deal with this . . . kid. Looking back at the files on his desk, he rifled through hist most recent acquisition, the missing person's file on Emma Chapman. With no leads on that case for three years, the file had been sent to the cold case records. Once there, the cases had slim to no chance of ever being solved. Detective Leo Lowenstein was hoping he could beat the odds on this one. He looked through the notes of the investigating detective, one Frank Morrison, a leopard like himself. Morrison had retired six months ago and Leo had tried getting in touch with him, but was told by his wife that he was in some remote part of Canada on a fishing trip and couldn't be reached for at least another ten days. Leo ended the call, wondering to himself how many more victims might crop up in that time. He looked over and over the retired detective's notes, noticing an almost total lack of anything that her neighbors had to say about her activities.

"That lazy bastard," snarled Leo. "He never thought to go interview Burwell, even though the son of a bitch lives on the same floor as her, was seen walking and talking with her by the manager, and to top it off, he leaves soon after she vanishes! I tell you, if Morrison was in front of me right now, I'd be tempted to bust him right in his muzzle!"

"I don't think that would be very productive, Leo," advised Jay.

The leopard shot the younger detective a nasty look. "Who the hell asked you, huh? And you don't get to call me Leo. I'm Detective Lowenstein to you, got it, Junior?"

"Yes, Detective," answered the jaguar meekly.

Getting back on task, Lowenstein tried to find someway that he could get enough evidence to obtain a search warrant for Burwell's apartment and vehicle. No matter what direction he looked, or what theory he put forth, he was left with speculations, coincidences and circumstantial evidence. It was one big shit Sundae with sprinkles on top, and he was going to have to take a huge bite out of it.

He ran his paws over his face, wishing that he could just go home and get a foot massage from his lovely wife Ayala, who would have a heavenly smelling brisket in the oven and a glass of his favorite blueberry Manischewitz wine waiting for him. No matter how miserable his day was, Ayala was his comfort, his strength through it all. He looked over at the cheetah duo of Detectives O'Connor and Byrne, who were grabbing their coats and heading out of the squad room in a hurry.

"Hey," yelled Leo. "Where you two going in such a hurry?"

"Dump job," said Detective Brian O'Connor. "Looks like a pross from what uniform said."

"Yeah," seconded Detective Patrick Byrne. "It's over on Wellington Street."

"Wellington Street?" repeated Leo. "That's just a few blocks away from Parker Avenue, right?"

"Last time I checked," chuckled O'Connor. "Why? Something we need to know about that place?"

"Maybe," said Leo. "I've got a suspect over there that you guys might like for this."

"That so?" said Byrne. "You're not trying to steal our collar, are you Lowenstein?"

"OF course not," reassured the leopard. "But if it's alright with you guys, I'd like to go along and see if I can offer anything that might be helpful."

"Fine," said Byrne. "But don't try taking any credit for this."

"Would you chill out, Pat?" grumbled the leopard. "I'm not trying to step on your dick, okay? Junior! Grab your coat and get your ass out to the car on the double!"

The four detectives arrived at what was obviously the crime scene, a vacant lot filled with all kinds of garbage. With several patrol cars and yellow tape reading "POLICE LINE" they parallel parked by the sidewalk. Flashing their badges, they were allowed to pass through the yellow tap that marked the crime scene perimeter. Several civilians stood around the tape, wanting to catch a glimpse of what was going on. The four detectives saw the blue tarp covering their victim. The Crime Scene Unit was busy collecting soil samples and taking pictures of the area while the coroner, an old rabbit named Dr. Lawrence Schaap was going over the corpse.

"What have you got for us, Larry?" asked Detective O'Connor.

"One dead ocelot," said the rabbit in a raspy tone. "Looks like she's probably been dead since about eleven or midnight, rigor has already set it. I'll know more once I get her on the table."

"How'd she buy it?" inquired Detective Byrne.

"Manua strangulation," said the rabbit, briefly lifting the tarp for the four detectives to get a look at her corpse. "Whoever did it is incredibly strong. You see that? Her neck's been broken, and from the looks of it, I'd say he did it with his own bare paws."

"Shit," said Detective Shannon under his breath. "Who could be so strong that they could snap somebody's neck like that?"

Leo looked west, over in the direction of Isaac Burwell's apartment. "I have a very good idea, Junior."