As we have now finished the Theological College of St Van Helsing collection of short stories, I am starting a new collection of short stories, call Cat Tails.
That may have been the last of the St Van Helsing short stories, but there is a final novel which I will be serialising from November, to paid subscribers.
For now, let’s begin Cat Tails.
Love Songs
The detective slid like a shadow through the grey morning light towards the school. Winter is never a good time to be away from the fire, but needs must. Strange goings-on were happening in the small Scottish town of Ryldan and she intended to put a stop to them.
With a quick jump down from the wall, she landed in a puddle. Shaking the water off her paws with a hiss, the detective trotted towards the women gathered at the entrance to the primary school. Having dropped off their offspring, they were out for their morning gossip. One mother was in tears on her friend’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what happened,” the tearful one said. “Maybe I was drunk.”
“Did your husband find out?” the friend asked.
Teary shook her head. “But I love my husband. Why would I do this?”
The detective strolled closer and rubbed her fur against the woman’s legs. Twining about and purring.
“See, even the kitty cat thinks you should cheer up.” The friend crouched to stroke the detective.
Someone had to sort out this epidemic of cheating that seemed to be out of anyone’s understanding. And that someone was the detective.
When the morning group broke up to go home, the detective followed the tearful woman and her friend as they headed to a coffee shop. The detective skirted garden walls and scrambled under hedges as she followed the two women. Once the houses fronted the street, the detective dashed between doorways, not allowing the two women to see their tail.
They reached the shop and the detective slipped through the door behind them. With a lightning move, she was under a table. No one sees a cat who doesn’t want to be seen.
The friends ordered coffee and discussed the state of Teary’s marriage. A young man with a customer service smile on his spotty face delivered the cups to the table. Concentrating on their conversation, the women ignored him. His fixed grin turned into a smirk as he walked away.
While they sipped their drinks, the discussion was much the same as other days, other tearful confessions. The marriage was perfectly happy, and Teary expressed her confusion, again and again, that this had happened.
The detective was getting nowhere here. As the women became happier, the detective slipped out of the shop behind another customer leaving. She had better chase up other possibilities.
The other leads turned up blank, and yet again, the detective returned to her only sure clue, the morning gathering at the school, where each day brought a new unhappy story.
This morning was no different. Teary’s friend from yesterday walked up and slapped Teary. Teary stared, mouth open, as the Friend broke into a tirade.
“It’s not enough that you slept with my husband last night, after all the comfort I offered! You have to infect me with your madness too!”
Her friend broke into tears and punched Teary. Teary elbowed Friend, while Friend scored deep lines on Teary’s face with her sharpened, glossy-red nails. Blood dripped down Teary’s face as she slammed a fist into Friend’s stomach. Friend doubled over, while driving her stiletto heel into Teary’s foot. Teary squealed.
The detective watched from the hedge opposite the school. This was no time to do the purring pussycat act. A tail could be trodden on as the other women in the morning group pulled apart the sparring once-friends. At the edge of the crowd, a young man with a spotty face watched with a smirk on his lips.
He looked disappointed when the two friends were walked away in opposite directions by other mothers. The detective followed him as he strode into town. He rounded a corner and down a back street. The scent of coffee lingered in his wake. He opened a door and ducked inside. The detective raced to reach him, but the door shut in her face.
A whiff of coffee drifted on the breeze caused by the slam. Acting on a hunch, the detective trotted around to the front of the building. Counting along the row, she arrived at the coffee shop the women had visited yesterday. The school mums had gathered in delighted shock to gossip about this morning’s fight. Two uniformed police officers, a man and a woman, chatted with the groups.
At least the police were taking some notes, but it would be up to the detective to show them the way. She returned to the shut door behind the building. Standing back, she studied the wall. A sash window on the first floor was raised. That was perfect.
Taking a running leap, the detective scrambled up. The roughcasting on the wall gave purchase to her sharp claws. She was up and over the sill in a flash. The window led to an employee’s washroom. Spotty Face was just leaving. He left the door ajar for an enquiring detective to search for clues.
Moments later, the detective was out of the room and exploring the building. The old shop had little in the way of self-closing, fire safety doors. And they had handles rather than knobs. This was ideal clue-hunting territory. She followed her nose.
Above the scent of coffee and baked goods, hung a sharp chemical smell. She took a sniff at the washroom, no not those cleaning chemicals. They were strongest coming under the door of a room at the front, just above the coffee shop.
A gentle launch and she hung on the door handle, her weight pulled it down and the door opened a crack. Dropping to the floor, she pushed the door with her nose. Whiskers twitching, she entered.
A stainless steel sink dominated the wall under the window. Work surfaces along the walls suggested a kitchen. But the apparatus set up was all wrong. Glass tubes and Bunsen burners ran in a distilling process along the wall leading from the door to the window. On the other side, bottles stood ready to be filled and a battered laptop hummed away to itself.
Shelves above the work surfaces were filled with amber Winchester bottles. The detective was about to launch up to investigate when two men entered the room. The detective ducked behind a chair to watch.
“And they were having a catfight,” Spotty Face said, giggling.
The other man, a little older, laughed out loud. “They should be with real men. They wouldn’t need to cheat then. Who shall we dose with our ‘love potion’ today?”
Spotty Face picked up a bottle and swirled it. “We need to make up some more, this is nearly empty.”
“How about that woman who lives two doors down from you?” Older Man said. “You’d be in with a chance then. She’s in the shop now.”
“That would be great,” Spotty Face said.
Older Man brought up a spreadsheet on the computer and filled in a few details about the fight, then added a woman’s name in the left-hand column.
The detective had heard enough. So, this was the source of the unusual behaviour of the women. Men who couldn’t attract a partner had decided to punish the women for their own failings.
The detective jumped on the worktable and purred, lifting her head as if expecting head scratches.
“Hey, how did that cat get in here?” Spotty Face grabbed for the detective.
The detective launched herself at a shelf, as if in a panic. Bottles tumbled onto the floor.
“Stop that!” Spotty Face lunged for her again.
The detective landed on the bench and skidded against the Love Potion. The bottle tipped over and spilled the contents onto the floor.
“Stop it, stupid! Don’t grab for a cat,” Older Man said. “You’ve panicked it.”
The detective aimed for the higher shelf, toppling more bottles and ripping through packets with her sharp claws. Liquid spilled onto the two men. Batting at the packets, they sprayed their powdery contents on top, leaving the men plastered in gooey nastiness.
“Stupid cat,” Spotty Face shouted, aiming to hit the detective. “You’ve ruined it all!”
The detective sprinted for the door, with loud yowls. The two men, covered in liquid and goo, chased after her. She ran out through the coffee shop where the mothers talked to the police. The detective dashed through, aiming for the door. She turned at bay, snarling and spitting at the two men.
“Now we’ve got it cornered,” Older Man shouted, wiping goo from his face.
“Stop abusing that poor cat,” the female police officer shouted.
As they grabbed for the detective, she ran between their feet and headed into the back area. Chased by the two men, the police officers, and several mothers, the detective led them up to the ruined laboratory.
“What’s this mess?” the male police officer lifted a bottle from the floor.
“Nothing!” Spotty Face tried to snatch the bottle.
“Love potion?” the officer said.
“Look,” said one mother. “They’ve got a spreadsheet here with the names of all those who have had those extra-marital affairs!”
The police officer hefted the bottle. “Have you been administering your customers with illicit chemicals?”
The detective slid out of the room. Mission accomplished. She trotted home and through the convenient door, her human had fitted for her.
“There you are my darling, Lola Cat. Just in time for breakfast, as always.” The detective’s human bent and scratched behind the furry ears in that perfect spot. “Have you been out hunting? Who’s the fiercest hunter in the whole wide town? You are!”
Detective Lola Cat accepted the accolade and the reward of gourmet salmon and shrimp pâté.
ENDS
If you like clever cats, there’s one in my Mad Science series of novels, available with your Kindle Unlimited subscription. The third book in the series, Sins of Commission will be available in October.