twist
04-12-2014, 07:02 PM
It was a dark November evening in 1947. A man carrying a briefcase and umbrella tipped his hat at his neighbour who was also on his way home. All the bay windows in the street were dimly lit or not at all. A tall, slim shadow was cast as he passed under a streetlight. The man climbed the few steps to his front door, turned the key and turning round looked up at the charcoal sky before stepping in and shutting the door behind him.
The black cat crouched on the wall opposite watched as he went in. Shortly, a pale, crescent moon made a brief appearance from behind a smoky cloud. The cat continued to watch as a light came on in the front room and another bay window in the street indicated occupancy.
It was an hour later when the living room light extinguished and the man stepped out again. The night had cleared and the crescent moon followed his thin frame as he took long, quick strides towards the main road, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.
He hesitated, stopping behind a tree as he approached the local police station. He’d never been inside a police station before; he was a respectable, law-abiding citizen. He had of course considered phoning the police but he didn’t want the operator to listen to, well, rather sensitive information.
The police station looked shabby from the outside and was poorly lit. One of the lights on the wall was broken. After a few moments of deliberation he went inside. A drunk was being propped up by two police officers. He was a big chap so it wasn’t easy. “Why do us two always get the fat drunks?” one complained to the other.
The man cleared his throat and spoke to the police clerk.” I wish to report a - a kidnapping. A rare and very expensive black and white Manx cat was stolen from my house today. Nothing else was taken. My cat is never out in the day and is fed by my neighbour. She left my house at 3pm today. I got home at 6pm so the cat was taken between 3pm and 6pm.”
Well this gives ‘cat burglar’ a new meaning quipped the police clerk.
The man looked at him coldly causing the police clerk to look down and mutter an apology.
“I hadn’t finished. About 6:30 I received a phone call from a man, his voice obviously disguised, demanding a,” he paused, drawing his breath in sharply “one thousand pound ransom. He wants the money in three days. My cat is a very rare breed and is all I got from a very wealthy aunt when she died. I was her only nephew and this was her favourite cat.”
“Name?” enquired the police clerk chewing the end of a short, blunt pencil.”
“Smith” replied the man.
“Well Mr Smith,we’ll need your neighbour’s statement and a couple of police officers will be round your house first thing,” he said looking up after finishing writing the statement.
Early the next morning, Mrs Cooper heard a knock at the door. She was a rotund, short woman with curly brown hair and a friendly manner. She patted her hair and smoothed down her apron. Two policemen stood there as she expected.
“Come in officers – it’s about the cat next door isn’t it? Poor little thing. I was quite attached to Pearl having fed her every day for six months. No, no pets of my own. Yes, Mr Smith paid a shilling a week for feeding the cat. Of course, yesterday I just fed Pearl at 3 o clock as usual. I was careful to lock the door behind me. No, I hadn’t noticed anything anyone suspicious in the street or unusual noise next door. I did go to the post office – must have been between 4 and half past."
Next the police officers went to Mr Smith’s house. The back door lock was damaged and seemed to be forced open with a jemmy. The back door led to an alley way which ran behind the street. A black cat sat on the top of the fence and watched intently with deep green eyes as the officers searched for clues.
“One of them nudged the other, “This one looks like it has something to tell us. If only animals could talk!” They searched the alley and found an expensive looking leather cat collar behind a bin.
(I'm planning to end it with the cat not existing and Smith and the neighbour trying to make money out a fake insurance claim - he works in an insurance company) Grateful for any comments
The black cat crouched on the wall opposite watched as he went in. Shortly, a pale, crescent moon made a brief appearance from behind a smoky cloud. The cat continued to watch as a light came on in the front room and another bay window in the street indicated occupancy.
It was an hour later when the living room light extinguished and the man stepped out again. The night had cleared and the crescent moon followed his thin frame as he took long, quick strides towards the main road, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.
He hesitated, stopping behind a tree as he approached the local police station. He’d never been inside a police station before; he was a respectable, law-abiding citizen. He had of course considered phoning the police but he didn’t want the operator to listen to, well, rather sensitive information.
The police station looked shabby from the outside and was poorly lit. One of the lights on the wall was broken. After a few moments of deliberation he went inside. A drunk was being propped up by two police officers. He was a big chap so it wasn’t easy. “Why do us two always get the fat drunks?” one complained to the other.
The man cleared his throat and spoke to the police clerk.” I wish to report a - a kidnapping. A rare and very expensive black and white Manx cat was stolen from my house today. Nothing else was taken. My cat is never out in the day and is fed by my neighbour. She left my house at 3pm today. I got home at 6pm so the cat was taken between 3pm and 6pm.”
Well this gives ‘cat burglar’ a new meaning quipped the police clerk.
The man looked at him coldly causing the police clerk to look down and mutter an apology.
“I hadn’t finished. About 6:30 I received a phone call from a man, his voice obviously disguised, demanding a,” he paused, drawing his breath in sharply “one thousand pound ransom. He wants the money in three days. My cat is a very rare breed and is all I got from a very wealthy aunt when she died. I was her only nephew and this was her favourite cat.”
“Name?” enquired the police clerk chewing the end of a short, blunt pencil.”
“Smith” replied the man.
“Well Mr Smith,we’ll need your neighbour’s statement and a couple of police officers will be round your house first thing,” he said looking up after finishing writing the statement.
Early the next morning, Mrs Cooper heard a knock at the door. She was a rotund, short woman with curly brown hair and a friendly manner. She patted her hair and smoothed down her apron. Two policemen stood there as she expected.
“Come in officers – it’s about the cat next door isn’t it? Poor little thing. I was quite attached to Pearl having fed her every day for six months. No, no pets of my own. Yes, Mr Smith paid a shilling a week for feeding the cat. Of course, yesterday I just fed Pearl at 3 o clock as usual. I was careful to lock the door behind me. No, I hadn’t noticed anything anyone suspicious in the street or unusual noise next door. I did go to the post office – must have been between 4 and half past."
Next the police officers went to Mr Smith’s house. The back door lock was damaged and seemed to be forced open with a jemmy. The back door led to an alley way which ran behind the street. A black cat sat on the top of the fence and watched intently with deep green eyes as the officers searched for clues.
“One of them nudged the other, “This one looks like it has something to tell us. If only animals could talk!” They searched the alley and found an expensive looking leather cat collar behind a bin.
(I'm planning to end it with the cat not existing and Smith and the neighbour trying to make money out a fake insurance claim - he works in an insurance company) Grateful for any comments