Spirit Cat (Part 2)

2 Jun



The Scene of Crimes Officer was wearing her white suit in order to avoid contamination as she took a swap of the bloodstain. The uniformed cops called her SOCO for short.

“Think you got something there?” one of the uniformed cops asked.

“Well, we’ll get DNA, if that’s what you mean?” she told him. “Don’t know if it’ll tell us anything useful, though.”

“It’s his blood though. Kid swore to it. The dog took a lump out of him and that’s where he bled.”

SOCO sighed. They never seemed to learn. DNA seemed to have become some kind of talisman for them. It never occurred to them that having a sample of DNA was all well and good, but you needed something to compare it with before it could help you. If the sample didn’t match anything in the database then it would be useless to them. It might become useful once they had a suspect, but first they’d have to find the suspect. This sample of DNA wasn’t going to help them do that all on its own.

“Bastard had it away on his toes while they were trying to get the dog under control,” the uniformed cop added.

“Well, don’t be too hard on the dog,” SOCO replied. “He might have done us a big favour here.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining. He scared the bastard off. Far as I’m concerned he earned his doggy biscuits for today.”

“You think he’s a stray?”

“Probably. No one round here knows him. No collar on him, although you can see he’s had one from the fur on his neck. We took him over to the kennel. They’ll have to put him in front of the Sheriff, of course.”

“Then what? Needle in his vein?”

“Not if the Sheriff decides he’s not dangerous.”

“And then what? They keep him for a week and then put him to sleep?”

“You want him?”

“When the hell am I ever home to look after a dog? Bloody shame if he gets put down, though.”

“I doubt that’ll happen. They’ll check him for a microchip, of course. But they won’t find the owner. My guess is he’s been dumped. That’s why he doesn’t have a collar any more. So they’ll have to re-home him. I think the little girl’s family might have him.”

“So they bloody should. Give him a medal.”

“Think he’d prefer a lamb chop.”

She went back to her work.

“I mean he’s not a vicious dog. Not really,” the uniformed cop continued. “Dog handler had no bother with him at all. Half in love with the little bugger, she is. The neighbours say he calmed right down as soon as the bastard had gone, didn’t cause a bit of trouble after that.”

When she’d secured her swab against contamination the Scene of Crime Officer took it back to her car.

Sitting in the bonnet of the car, she found a snow-white cat, sleek and quite comfortable in her fur and whiskers.

The cat was staring at her with that eldritch intensity that only cats can muster. She had a neat little pink nose and pink inside her ears, but her eyes were a curious colour, somewhere almost exactly between yellow and green. It occurred to the Scene of Crimes Officer that artists probably had a word for exactly that colour, but she had no idea what it might be.

“You were at the park, the other day, weren’t you?” she said to the uniformed officer.

“Where we found that grave? The little girl? Yeah. I was on the tape.”

“You remember a cat at the scene?”

“Not really. Just a bunch of sick wankers wanting to watch the show for free. Should’ve been selling tickets, for fuck’s sake.”

SOCO reached out her hand towards the cat, but it simply put its ears back and hissed before running away.

There had been a cat there all right. SOCO remembered it well. It’d been inside the tent they’d used to cover the shallow grave. She’d shooed the cat away, terrified that the scene might be contaminated.

The cat had left all right, but not in any great hurry and it’d left a good, solid, hiss behind it.

It was the eyes that SOCO remembered. Narrow, vicious little eyes. No fear in them at all. Just pure distilled hate.

Had the cat known the little dead girl? Maybe been her pet? But that was just silly. Cats don’t behave like that. They don’t stand guard over the body of a dead owner. A dog might do that. They could be incredibly loyal to their owners, even when the owners didn’t deserve it. But cats are different. They’re mercenaries. If they don’t like your house, they just pack their hankies and leave.

No, obviously the cat had just wandered into the tent out of sheer curiosity, and then it had objected to being moved on. That was all. And if you think there’s any more to it, you’re just losing the plot. Big time.

(To be continued…) 



One Response to “Spirit Cat (Part 2)”

  1. Beats Headphones 16/05/2014 at 10:50 pm #

    I am in fact thankful to the owner of this web site who has shared this impressive piece of writing at at this time.

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