
Sunday, May 3, 2015
The Tail End of the Tale.
by Zeke Drummond from SKETCHER IN THE RYE, the fourth book in the Portrait of Crime Mysteries, by Sharon Pape

“Drop your weapon, Mr. Kirby,” the
lead cop ordered. “Drop it or we’ll have to use force against you. We can’t
allow you to threaten us or to continue to be a danger to your neighbors.”
Kirby had as crazed a look in his eyes
as I’ve ever encountered, and his hair was stickin’ up all over like he’d been
tryin’ to pull it clean out of his scalp.
. “You don’t understand,” he said in a
tortured voice. “I’ve gotta get rid of
the cat. It’s been tormentin’ me ever since I moved in here last month. I can’t
sleep, I can’t eat. I called every agency in the government, but no one would
listen to me. No one would believe me. I have to take care of the problem
myself, or that cat is gonna send me straight to the loony bin.”
“Put down the gun, and I promise
I’ll listen to you,” the cop said. “You don’t want to go to jail over this.”
“No, no way,” Kirby growled. “I need
the gun to get rid of the cat.”
“I’ll take care of the cat,” he
said. “Do you know where it is right now?”
“I never know where it is,” Kirby
cried out, “until it jumps out in front of me.” He was clearly gettin’ more and
more worked up by the minute. “It’s got some super powers or something, because
I know I shot and hit it a good three times, but there was no blood, not a drop. That
just ain’t natural.”
And
just like that I knew what the problem was - Kirby had moved into a house with
a ghost cat of its own. I was pretty sure I’d find Purrsey wherever the other
cat was holed up. The lead cop was tryin’ to convince Kirby that if he hadn’t
succeeded in killin’ the cat by now, maybe the gun was the problem. I left them
to it and went off in search of Purrsey. I found him on a rafter in the
basement chattin’ up a beautiful cat with long white fur and come-hither green
eyes. Purrsey looked directly at me and gave me a sly wink, then the two of
them vanished. I had a feelin’ Mr. Kirby wouldn’t be troubled by the cat again.
Up
on the main floor, they’d made some progress. Kirby had finally given up his
gun and was bein’ cuffed. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy, given the
circumstances. I filled Rory in on the whole thin’ as we walked back to tell Frances,
Purrsey’s owner, that the danger had passed. She insisted we come in, and we
were mighty happy we did. Curled up together on the sofa beside Frances’s
favorite chair, were Purrsey and his new lady love. “I’m going to call her Purrl,”
Frances said, her eyes dancin’ with joy. Rory and I felt pretty darned good about it all too. And now that Purrsey had a playmate, I suspected he would't be comin' to bother Hobo anytime soon.
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Poor Mr. Kirby!
ReplyDeleteNothing like a ghost cat to make a story interesting. Title is a definite winner.
ReplyDeleteThanks!
DeleteThanks!
DeleteThe poor man.
ReplyDeleteGlad the kitties got a good "ending"
Sounds interesting! Love the cover!
ReplyDelete