It was still early enough that Roger could warrant a surprise drop in on a human (it was never too late to do so to a toon!), but for one he hadn't seen since before Doom? Well, that seemed to be a social faux pas…and contrary to popular belief, Roger did know a thing or two about them…he just didn't really care.

Carol was a different story however. She had been his photographer before the toon had made it big, in fact she's the one who got him in touch with the people at Maroon Studios, and in doing so was inadvertently responsible for his career today. They'd lost contact shortly after he moved from his old studio, DeGreasy, over to R.K. Maroon's stable, but it wasn't Roger's doing. He had a slow start at Maroon, whereas Carol seemed too busy to field his frequent phone calls, and so they slowly trickled to a stop. Still, just as he had dropped in with Steve only to ask about 'business', Roger felt funny doing it to Carol. First and foremost because it involved 'business', something totally foreign to Roger, but also because for once, he felt unsure how to approach. Hesitant almost, not quite shy, but reserved at the idea that maybe, just maybe, she didn't want to see him.

It was something he had discussed with Jessica many a times, especially during his earlier days at Maroon. Why wouldn't his first photographer take his calls? When he did drop by to see what was up, she was cordial, but brief. Brunches turned into coffees, which was already quite a downgrade for someone who didn't (read: wasn't allowed to) drink coffee. And soon those too devolved into clipped greetings at her door. Roger wasn't one to give up, but apparently Carol was, and it got to the point that she was either never home or conveniently at DeGreasy whenever Roger showed up, or she simply stopped answering her door, be if home or office.

Jessica had put it so Roger could understand: "Roger, sometimes people move on from things that remind them of the past, even when they're good things. I know I wouldn't wanna see any of my old friends from where I worked before the Ink and Paint, but I remember them quite fondly." He didn't quite get it, but she had kissed him and offered to go on a walk to their favorite little bakery, the one with the giant carrot cake slices, and so he forgot about it just like that.

But right now, there was no carrot cake.

The rabbit gulped and fished out his address book once more, pulling a bit of colored clown flags along with it by accident. He shook himself loose of the thing, ignoring the car horns and screeching tires as it billowed out into the street, and hopped over to a payphone. He was running real low on nickels, nevertheless, he popped on into the coin slot an carefully dialed Carol Master's number.

Eddie sat far too low in a far too soft, and far too itchy chair as he watched Delancy Duck waddle back and forth in front of him. The shaggy carpet was a garish, vomit green, which went quite well with the bile orange tweed armchairs and the shit colored Chesterfield out in the lobby. Delancy was the kind of toon who liked to match his suit to his surroundings, and so of course his thick tweed suit jacket looked like something a dog might've upchucked after nabbing scraps of the family dinner off the table. He topped the look off with a chunky gold watch and so much hair gel slicked over his he'd fathers that Eddie could see the solidified substance, transparent and glimmering beneath the fluorescent lighting.

"Well, Mister Valiant, I have to say these are pretty serious accusations." The duck waddled over to his desk, one Eddie assumed was supposed to simulate mahogany, but looked more like it was made from the same cheap paneling that covered the walls.

"Accusations? You printed these issues. I ain't accusing you of nothin' Duck. I'm only askin' about the covers and stories."

"Yes and that sounds exactly like the beginning of every libel lawsuit we've gotten this past year alone. I'm not at liberty to discuss our sources, Mister Valiant, but I can tell you that they're tried and true, and this publisher, I am proud to head, acts as a messenger for these brave, anonymous souls. I urge you, as I do all of the celebrities and politicians we chose to shine a light upon–– to not shoot the messenger."

After his little speech, Delancy rifled through his desk (which seemed to dangerously creak with each movement) and pulled out a particle board box with the word CUBAN stamped crookedly over the top. He pulled two out, but after a quick hand wave from Eddie, he put one back.

"Suit yourself. Now, I can't help you with eh, snitching per se, but I can let you know that we use the very same…er, confidant that The Toontown Insider does, at least when it comes to stories of…romantic intrigue." Delancy chopped the ends of his cigar and brought it to his mouth, lighting is and inhaling. A sickly sweet, musky scent filled the room, one that reminded Eddie of both honey, and a wet dog.

"Ain't that bad for business?" He asked.

"Not when those loose lips think ships, for the highest bidder. Problem is, we seem to have a rat somewhere in our ranks." Delancy said with scorn, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, that's not my problem. What is, though, is how right before you go publishing stories about Betty cozying up to Roger, is that she seems to disappear. Know anything about that?"

Delancy opened his beak, and then closed it. He furrowed his brow, opened his beak once more, and then closed it. Eddie had him cornered.

"How about Roger? That source of yours have any ties to competing production companies?"

"If you're implying that our stories are merely published as some sort of–– some, some kind of––"

"You mean to say you take from the highest bidders to push agendas as well? No, I ain't saying that. But I can't say the same for this." Eddie held up the magazine featuring Betty and Felix, black and white as Max Fleischer intended. Delancy only stared. "This is shopped, poorly I might add, by a 'freelance' photographer who works for DeGreasy Studios. You hired for a job no one in your company wanted to, or could do. Shopped because those other, newer issues aren't."

Delancy lit up and seemed to procure a pen and pad of paper out of thin air.

"So you agree! I know you're a personal friend of Mr. Ra––"

"Ah! I didn't say that, Roger could very well be drawn in, but those Betties don't look like no paint job." Delancy sighed, putting his pen and paper down and sitting back in his chair.

"Alright, let's say you're right. So what? Is that a crime, Valiant?"

"I'm no cop, but I am a friend of Betty's."

"And…I presume the rabbit is your client?"

It was Eddie's turn to be silent. Of course Delancy would know that, seeing as his magazine was one of the first to push the Dick Tracy and Tess Trueheart thing. Roger was gonna have to start looking for a different detective if he actually wanted to get anything done.

"My client", Eddie gave special emphasis to the word, "doesn't appreciate this kind of drivel going about, especially right now."

Ever the journalist, Delancy had his pen and paper readied once more.

"Oh, do tell!" "Uh-uh; I've said enough. I can see we're not getting anywhere with this."

Eddie stood up and dusted himself off. Delancy sat back, eyeing the man apathetically and puffing on his off-brand cigar. If there was one thing Eddie could say about Delancy, it was that he had the decency to not smoke a toon cigar in the presence of a human–– but apparently not enough to carry a conversation without muckraking.

"Thanks for nothin Delancy."

"You're more than welcome, Mister Valiant, and please, if you've any more juicy info to disclose, my door is always open."

Eddie took a smoke break outside the Telltale, considering his next move. The meeting was a bust, and the stench of cologne and cigar fumes had given Eddie a headache.

Roger was off on the Carol Master's lead. He could start asking high profile toons, as well as low profile ones, about Betty's whereabouts. Felix would be a good start. Maybe follow the Red Hot connection. Check the papers for anymore news, or actually get around to dissecting the articles Roger had provided him. It would be a pain to narrow down and find the authors, especially if Delancy was on the defense, but it may be easier over at the Insider. If his instinct, or more accurately–– hit gut, was correct, he would be seeing Delancy again very soon.

He and the duck had a sweet n' sour history, vacillating between rough interrogations and uneasy pacts.

Delancy was the the definition of a fair weather friend and had the uncanny ability to roll with threats…much like water, off of a duck's back, be they legal or physical. But Eddie wasn't the kinda guy to involve the Toontown or L.A. police depatment, in fact they often found themselves competing at the scene of the crime. Thankfully there wasn't a scene, yet.

After a few puffs, the P.I. decided to check back in with Roger, and then drop him off at his house. If he was lucky, he could ask Jessica a few questions about Red Hot Riding Hood, and kennel the rabbit.

For the time being, however, he needed a drink.