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Chapter 18: Opera

It wasn't often that Rita made the hour-long drive to the closest city, Maplesburg. She

preferred the quaint pleasures of her traditional estate to the decadence of the modern city.

However, this evening, she was in Maplesburg with Johann and Wolfgang to see a performance

of Mozart's The Magic Flute. After dinner, she had donned a silky black dress, the bottom of

which had wide pleats topped with a layer of black lace and ended just above her knees. The

dress was a sleeveless crew neck, but she wore a pair of full-length black satin gloves that

ended just below her shoulder. She had brought a black clutch to carry the essentials such as a

comb and a wickedly sharp folding knife. Johann and Wolfgang were both dressed in smart

black jackets. It was a pity that Boots couldn't attend these types of outings, but in addition to

the scene the human's presence would have caused, he couldn't fit in their car.

They parked in one of the reserved spots on the first level of the parking garage and

proceeded inside. Wolfgang nodded to the opossum behind the ticket counter as they

proceeded to the reserved balcony seating. Rita was surprised to find the reserved seating

area, which held a dozen seats for nobility and their friends, was not empty: a meadow vole in a

darkly colored--it was difficult to tell the exact color in the dim lighting--pinstripe blazer and

white dress shirt was flanked by a pair of similarly dressed black miniature pinschers, obviously

his bodyguards from their vigilant manner. The dogs turned to glare dangerously at Rita and

company as they entered, and the vole, noticing their movement, also turned and stared at them

incredulously.

"Who in Tartarus are you?!" he squeaked angrily. "I requested to have this area private

this evening!"

Rita blinked, "I think the more pertinent question is 'Who are you?'."

The vole scoffed indignantly, "Alfred Garmann?! The CEO of Garmann Brothers Bank?!

You may have heard of me!"

Rita turned to Wolfgang and shrugged before turning back to the irate vole, "Seems I

haven't, but it hardly matters. This area is reserved."

"By me!" he squeaked furiously.

Rita narrowed her eyes dangerously, "Run along, vole," she warned softly. "You're in the

wrong place, and you don't want to find out what happens to peasants who don't keep in their

place."

"Peasants?!" he seethed. "I could buy you, fox! I don't know what it's like in whatever

backwater estate you crawled out of, but here, money talks! All I have to do is flash a few credits

their way, and the guards will toss you and your thugs out on your asses! So you run along, and

be grateful I was merciful!"

Rita turned to nod at Johann, and he hastened out of the balcony back the way they'd

come.

"Decided to put it to the test then, eh?" the vole squeaked menacingly--or at least as

menacingly as a rodent could squeak, which was actually not menacing at all.

Rita didn't dignify him with a response. The seats were arranged in two rows of six, and

Rita sat in the front with Wolfgang to her right, placing her only three seats from the vole, who

was also seated in the front row. Several minutes later, Johann returned, not with the guards or

any of the opera house staff, but with four police officers: a bobcat, a ginger cat, a raccoon, and

an otter.

Rita gestured to the miniature pinschers, "The mutts are disturbing me. Kindly find them

a cell for the night."

The officers grabbed the dogs out of their seats and handcuffed them.

"What are you doing?!" the vole squealed in rage. "You can't arrest them on that; they

work for me!"

The bobcat looked from him to Rita and back, "Her Grace says they're bothering her.

Who are you?"

"Alfred Garmann!" he fumed.

The bobcat shrugged.

"Didn't we arrest those three dogs at Garmann Brothers Bank the other day, Ma'am?"

the ginger cat asked.

Recognition lit up the bobcat's face, "So you're the president of the bank or something?"

"The CEO!"

"I put my money in Maplesburg Community Capital Bank," the bobcat told him. She

motioned to the other officers and they began to lead the miniature pinschers away. "Have a

nice night, Sir, Your Grace, Gentlemen," she concluded, turning to the vole, Rita, and Wolfgang

and Johann in turn. She followed the other officers out.

"You're going to regret that!" the vole squeaked at Rita in rage. "I'm going to make your

life a living Tartarus!"

Rita stood and sauntered over to his chair. He glared up at her. She plucked him up and

held him in front of her face.

"Put me down, twat!" he ordered irately.

"I told you to run along," she reminded. She unzipped her clutch, stuffed him inside, and

zipped it closed.

Muffled angry squeaks came from inside the bag, and Rita punched the vole sized lump,

cutting them off in a squeal of pain. She returned to her seat, flanked by Wolfgang and Johann,

setting the purse on her lap. She'd have some entertainment on the ride home.

Rita assumed that was the end of the distractions, but just a few minutes before the

opera was scheduled to start, a red fox in a purple velvet jacket sauntered in with a white

Persian cat in a low-cut, long, white dress behind him. Rita recognized the fox but couldn't quite

remember his name. He was the Lord of Larchwood, a minor estate. Rita didn't think she'd met

him more than once before, and as far as she was aware, he wasn't really known for much of

anything. Unfortunately, he recognized her immediately.

"Your Grace!" he gasped in delight. "What a wonderful coincidence that we should be

seeing the same showing!" He bowed and the cat behind him curtsied. Standing he motioned to

the cat, "This is my fiancée, Penelope, Your Grace."

"It's an honor to meet you, Your Grace," the cat breathed.

"It's been a long time Lord Larchwood," Rita noted, masking her annoyance with

formality. "Things are going well for you, I hope."

"No need to be so formal, Your Grace; it's Jean. But yes, things are going splendidly,

quite the bumper tomato crop this year!"

Rita smiled politely, "Who doesn't like tomatoes, eh?"

"Indeed, Your Grace! I hope all is well at the Belmont estate as well."

"Fine, fine. I don't mean to be rude, Jean, but they're scheduled to start any minute."

"Right!" He strode over to the seats, standing in front of the one behind Rita with the cat

to his left. "Would you mind, Your Grace? May we?"

Rita nodded, "Suit yourself."

They sat down, and Jean leaned forward to whisper to her, "Thank you, Your Grace. I

hope you'll do me the honor of talking with me further. I have a little venture that I think might

pique your interest, and-"

"We can discuss it afterwards," Rita cut him off pointedly.

He sat back and bobbed his head. Rita sighed and directed her attention to the

orchestra pit: the orchestra had yet to begin playing but would shortly. The conductor, a red fox

in a tuxedo top, was at the podium, and the musicians were waiting for his signal. A desperate

squeak emanated from Rita's clutch.

"Did you hear something, Your Grace?" Jean inquired, looking around in confusion. The

vole squeaked again, and he turned to look at the lump in Rita's purse. "Do you have something

in there?"

Rita smiled and shook her head, feigning embarrassment, "It seems you've found me

out," she answered lightly. She extracted the vole from her clutch and held him with her thumb

and index finger clamping his mouth shut. "I was saving him for the ride home, but he seems

determined to be a distraction. Would you like him, Jean?"

Jean's face screwed up in confusion, "Like him, Your Grace?"

"For a snack, I mean," she explained nonchalantly.

The vole thrashed frantically in her grasp, and she squeezed him viciously to make him

still.

"D-d-do I-I," Jean stammered. He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. "Isn't

that frowned upon, Your Grace?!"

Rita put on a look of surprised incredulity. "Jean! I knew Larchwood estate was out of the

way, but I had no idea you were so sheltered! You've really never eaten a rodent?"

"O-of course, I have!" he amended hastily, obviously lying to save face. "I only meant,

isn't it frowned upon in public?"

Rita smiled slyly, "This is a private area, Jean."

He swallowed. "Quite."

"So what do you say? I could eat him, but I'm still a bit full from dinner."

"I-if you want me to, Your Grace."

"We can't have him causing a distraction, can we?" she reasoned.

"O-of course not."

"Alright then, open up!" she piped.

He opened his mouth hesitantly then closed it again. "D-do y-you usually take a few

bites or swallow them whole, Your Grace?" he asked nervously.

Rita narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "Are you sure you've done this before, Jean? You

should swallow him whole, of course!"

"R-right, I just wanted to make sure." He opened his jaws wide to reveal his long, sharp

fangs.

Rita turned to stand on her seat facing Lord Larchwood and transferred the vole to her

left hand, dangling him by his tail over the waiting maw.

"You can't do this to me!" he squealed in rage. "I'm-Akk!" His protests were cut off in a

shriek as Rita tossed him into Jean's mouth and the tod snapped his jaws shut.

Jean swallowed him with some difficulty and grimaced, "He didn't taste altogether

pleasant, Your Grace."

"A pity. I hope he won't give you a belly ache."

The Persian cat had been watching in rapt fascination throughout the entire exchange.

"You really ate him!" she exclaimed in wonder. Her eyes drifted down to Jean's belly, and she

gave it a curious poke. "Can you feel him in there?"

Jean nodded uncomfortably. The orchestra began to play the overture.

"You'll have to tell me about it when it's over," Rita chirped quickly. She turned back

around and sat in her seat to enjoy The Magic Flute.

Rita joined in the exuberant applause at the end of the second act. She always thought

the ending would have been more satisfying if the Queen of the Night had succeeded in

massacring Sarastro's brotherhood, but it was a lovely and entertaining piece regardless.

Wolfgang and Johann applauded as well, as did Jean and Penelope behind them.

Rita turned her head to address the tod, "How'd you enjoy it, Jean?"

"It was marvelous, Your Grace."

"Very good, and how about your little snack?"

Jean chuckled embarrassedly, "Eheheh, he was a bit wriggly at first, but he soon settled

down. Not as hard as I thought it would be to be honest."

Rita grinned, "I'm glad to hear he didn't cause you any trouble. Quite a nasty little

creature. At least he got to do something worthwhile in the end."

"Wh-who was he, if you don't mind my asking, Your Grace?" Jean inquired nervously.

"Some self-important vole. I shouldn't worry about it; I doubt he'll be missed. Very

unpleasant, like I said."

Jean burped and grimaced, looking nauseous, "'Unpleasant' is how I'd describe his

flavor too."

Rita retrieved a roll of mints from her clutch. "Mint?" she offered, holding out the roll.

He took one gratefully.

"Well, we'd best be going. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us," she concluded.

"Goodnight, Jean. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance again."

"Goodnight, Your Grace."

Rita led Wolfgang and Johann out and back to their car. She was a bit disappointed that

she hadn't gotten to have any fun with the vole herself, but he had served his purpose,

distracting Lord Larchwood from attempting to regale her with some half-baked--and likely

tomato-based--scheme. Indeed, distracting the tod probably was the most worthwhile purpose

the insolent vole had ever served.