twist
06-28-2014, 06:56 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 briefly 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 Burmese 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 3 pm today. I got home at 6 pm so the cat was taken between 3pm and 6 pm.”
"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 inherited 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 pm as usual. I was careful to lock the door behind me. No, I hadn’t noticed anyone suspicious in the street or an 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 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 what looked like an expensive leather cat collar. They took it to forensics. So far the signs had pointed to a professional pet kidnapping so unsurprisingly no fingerprints were found. No damage had been done to the collar, nor was there any blood or fur on it.
Mr Smith went back to the police station later that day. The ransom had to be paid the the following evening. This time a police officer took him into a room. His voice shook slightly as he reported receiving another call from the kidnapper. A very short and brutal one this time. The man said that his precious cat would die if he didn’t hand over the money. Then he heard Pearl meowing piteously in the background before the phone went dead. “I don’t have the money myself but I did have Pearl insured as she’s so valuable. I’ve heard of other pet kidnappings especially since the war which is why the company where I work introduced pet insurance.”
Mr Smith worked for a large insurance company in the West End of London. Pearl had been insured by his company 6 months previously. She was in fact one of the very first pets insured there.
“What’s wrong, Smith?” asked his manager, Mr Lane, observing his anxious expression. He was a large man in his fifties and appeared suitably distinguished with a handlebar moustache and a Saville Row suit.
“Pearl’s been kidnapped! I have to pay a thousand pound ransom tomorrow or they might kill her,” he replied emotionally. He sat heavily into his chair and buried his head in his hands.
“What are you worried about? Your cat’s insured. I’ll get your cheque drawn up straight away and you can dash to the bank. We can’t let anything happen to that beautiful Burmese cat of yours,” reassured his manager.
Mr Smith nodded. Mr Lane was very efficient and promptly issued him the insurance cheque. “You better get to the bank, old chap. Good luck!”
Mr Smith took the cheque to the bank to cash it. The cashier called the manager as the cheque was for such a large amount of money. Mr Smith explained all about the kidnapping while the manager listened with a sympathetic expression.
“I don’t know what I’d do if it was my Duchess. What is the world coming to?” he said shaking his head. “Just give me a few minutes.”
He then called Mr Smith into a small office at the back and counted out the cash which was carefully placed in a briefcase.
“Well, I hope you get your cat back,”
“I can’t thank you enough,”replied Mr Smith shaking his hand. A taxi was waiting for him outside to take him home.
Mrs Cooper watched as the taxi stopped next door. It was dark but she could see he was clutching a briefcase as he got out. “Mr Smith’s back,” she said to her husband, “Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, “ he replied folding up his newspaper.
An unmarked police car waited further down the road. Two plain clothes policemen sat inside waiting. “Here they come! Smith’s got the briefcase,” said one of the policemen as the two men approached the car. “Now listen up, fellows. Remember, it’s just a cat so I don’t want any heroics.” Mr Smith looked nervous. His friend kept reassuring him Pearl would returned unharmed. They drove over to Putney Bridge. Mr Smith pointed to the deserted looking spot where the kidnappers agreed for the rendevouz. It was almost 7pm. They waited and they waited. An hour later and no –one had turned up. It was cold and the car windows were steaming up.
“They’re not going to show up – let’s go,” said the police officer who was driving. They dropped off the two men but just as they were driving away Mr Smith came running out of his house. He banged on the passenger window calling, “Wait, the kidnappers just called. They must have followed us. They knew the police were involved. I’ll never see Pearl now!”
The two police officers looked at each other. “ Look, we’ll get back to you in the morning. Try and get some rest. ”said one of them, sympathetically.
Next door Mrs Cooper had just placed her phone back on the receiver.
Her husband and Mr Smith entered shortly. The curtains had been carefully drawn across. They divided the money with a third for the Coopers for their part. The radio crackled as a storm began to brew outside. The local news was indistinct through the static. “A valuable Burmese cat was kidnapped today from a house in Chelsea while the owner was out. A one thousand pound ransom was demanded.” The storm worsened and it was impossible to hear anymore.
“Valuable Burmese cat! We really pulled it off! We duped the police, my insurance firm and the bank”, crowed Mr Smith.
Mrs Cooper brought in tea and biscuits for them. “There you are Mr Smith, “she said handing him a cup of tea. “Here’s to your imaginary, wonderful Pearl. How I miss her!” She raised her cup dramatically.
Mr Smith didn’t feel too well and got up to go home. Only he didn’t make it. The police found him in the early hours on the footpath. He was dead. The black cat was sitting next to him watching him intently. A curtain twitched as Mrs Cooper peeped from the bedroom window.
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 Burmese 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 3 pm today. I got home at 6 pm so the cat was taken between 3pm and 6 pm.”
"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 inherited 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 pm as usual. I was careful to lock the door behind me. No, I hadn’t noticed anyone suspicious in the street or an 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 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 what looked like an expensive leather cat collar. They took it to forensics. So far the signs had pointed to a professional pet kidnapping so unsurprisingly no fingerprints were found. No damage had been done to the collar, nor was there any blood or fur on it.
Mr Smith went back to the police station later that day. The ransom had to be paid the the following evening. This time a police officer took him into a room. His voice shook slightly as he reported receiving another call from the kidnapper. A very short and brutal one this time. The man said that his precious cat would die if he didn’t hand over the money. Then he heard Pearl meowing piteously in the background before the phone went dead. “I don’t have the money myself but I did have Pearl insured as she’s so valuable. I’ve heard of other pet kidnappings especially since the war which is why the company where I work introduced pet insurance.”
Mr Smith worked for a large insurance company in the West End of London. Pearl had been insured by his company 6 months previously. She was in fact one of the very first pets insured there.
“What’s wrong, Smith?” asked his manager, Mr Lane, observing his anxious expression. He was a large man in his fifties and appeared suitably distinguished with a handlebar moustache and a Saville Row suit.
“Pearl’s been kidnapped! I have to pay a thousand pound ransom tomorrow or they might kill her,” he replied emotionally. He sat heavily into his chair and buried his head in his hands.
“What are you worried about? Your cat’s insured. I’ll get your cheque drawn up straight away and you can dash to the bank. We can’t let anything happen to that beautiful Burmese cat of yours,” reassured his manager.
Mr Smith nodded. Mr Lane was very efficient and promptly issued him the insurance cheque. “You better get to the bank, old chap. Good luck!”
Mr Smith took the cheque to the bank to cash it. The cashier called the manager as the cheque was for such a large amount of money. Mr Smith explained all about the kidnapping while the manager listened with a sympathetic expression.
“I don’t know what I’d do if it was my Duchess. What is the world coming to?” he said shaking his head. “Just give me a few minutes.”
He then called Mr Smith into a small office at the back and counted out the cash which was carefully placed in a briefcase.
“Well, I hope you get your cat back,”
“I can’t thank you enough,”replied Mr Smith shaking his hand. A taxi was waiting for him outside to take him home.
Mrs Cooper watched as the taxi stopped next door. It was dark but she could see he was clutching a briefcase as he got out. “Mr Smith’s back,” she said to her husband, “Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, “ he replied folding up his newspaper.
An unmarked police car waited further down the road. Two plain clothes policemen sat inside waiting. “Here they come! Smith’s got the briefcase,” said one of the policemen as the two men approached the car. “Now listen up, fellows. Remember, it’s just a cat so I don’t want any heroics.” Mr Smith looked nervous. His friend kept reassuring him Pearl would returned unharmed. They drove over to Putney Bridge. Mr Smith pointed to the deserted looking spot where the kidnappers agreed for the rendevouz. It was almost 7pm. They waited and they waited. An hour later and no –one had turned up. It was cold and the car windows were steaming up.
“They’re not going to show up – let’s go,” said the police officer who was driving. They dropped off the two men but just as they were driving away Mr Smith came running out of his house. He banged on the passenger window calling, “Wait, the kidnappers just called. They must have followed us. They knew the police were involved. I’ll never see Pearl now!”
The two police officers looked at each other. “ Look, we’ll get back to you in the morning. Try and get some rest. ”said one of them, sympathetically.
Next door Mrs Cooper had just placed her phone back on the receiver.
Her husband and Mr Smith entered shortly. The curtains had been carefully drawn across. They divided the money with a third for the Coopers for their part. The radio crackled as a storm began to brew outside. The local news was indistinct through the static. “A valuable Burmese cat was kidnapped today from a house in Chelsea while the owner was out. A one thousand pound ransom was demanded.” The storm worsened and it was impossible to hear anymore.
“Valuable Burmese cat! We really pulled it off! We duped the police, my insurance firm and the bank”, crowed Mr Smith.
Mrs Cooper brought in tea and biscuits for them. “There you are Mr Smith, “she said handing him a cup of tea. “Here’s to your imaginary, wonderful Pearl. How I miss her!” She raised her cup dramatically.
Mr Smith didn’t feel too well and got up to go home. Only he didn’t make it. The police found him in the early hours on the footpath. He was dead. The black cat was sitting next to him watching him intently. A curtain twitched as Mrs Cooper peeped from the bedroom window.