What Dragged in the Cat?

by R.M. Haag

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright 2009 by R.M. Haag

All Rights Reserved

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It all started Tuesday morning with Scrunch in the living room. His flat Persian kitty face looking back at the rest of his body with a familiar look of indignation, as if his last thought was, shit, doesn't that beat all?

Monica couldn't go back down there right away. She stayed on her bed with her knees tucked up against her chest, and tried to reason it out. After the first half-hour she wondered if she had simply imagined what she had seen. His body smaller without the inside parts. Maybe it had been some laundry she left on the floor. It was early and the living room was still sort of dark. His legs scattered like sticks. Except she didn't leave laundry around the house. She kept the place neat and clean. Blood flecks bright red on the pale carpet but not as much as she would have expected. Something else then. Or maybe nothing. Maybe she dreamed that she woke up and went down to the living room. Long black and white fur, the softest fur, matted with blood. Except she was dressed to meet with a seller later, she had on her makeup, and the sunlight made the loft look bright and cheery. Monica pushed her hands down against the bed. She had to go look. She got off the bed and took a shaky breath.

"You can do this," she whispered.

Monica crossed the loft to the railing, grabbed onto the smooth wood, and looked down. She screamed.

It took the police twenty minutes to arrive. Two squad cars pulled up into her driveway. Four officers got out. They all walked towards her. A big blocky woman officer took the lead.

"Ms. Clayton?"

"Yes. Monica Clayton."

"I'm Officer Fabin. Are you okay?"

Monica let loose a strangled laugh. "Sure. Great." She took a deep breath. "I'm okay. I had to cancel my meeting."

"Just tell us what happened."

It didn't take long. There wasn't that much to tell. When she finished the officers talked among themselves for a minute and then the other three moved off towards her house. Officer Fabin stayed with her in the yard.

"This is a nice place you have here. You live alone?"

Monica nodded.

"Boyfriend?"

"No."

"Can I ask what you do?"

"I buy and sell rare books online."

Officer Fabin looked around at the yard. "You must be doing okay?"

"Yes."

"Did you notice any signs of forced entry? Did you hear anything?"

"No. There's blood in the kitchen, and on the pet door."

Officer Fabin talked into a mic on her shoulder for a second. "Okay. I know this is hard. Can you think of anyone that might bear a grudge against you?"

"God, no. I don't think so."

"Are you going to be okay if I go help the others? Do you need me to stay?"

"No." Monica forced herself to smile. She wouldn't fall apart. "I'll be fine."

The police had been inside for fifteen minutes. Monica knew because she kept checking her watch while she waited and paced the yard. The neighbor's pug, Popeye, charged up and down in their yard on the other side of the fence. He wheezed when he barked. Popeye's smashed in face was a canine reminder of Scrunch. This is silly, she told herself. Scrunch is dead. Deep breath. She had to deal with it. She couldn't stay out in the yard all day. She started up the stairs to the porch. Before she reached the top Officer Fabin opened the door and came out carrying a white plastic trash back. In the light Monica could see streaks inside and something heavy and dark at the bottom.

"Ms. Clayton," Officer Fabin said gently. "We cleaned it up the best we could. You'll need to do something about the stains. Would you like us to help you bury him?"

Monica felt like someone had their fist down her throat. She coughed. "No. I can manage. Do you have any ideas how...?"

One of the other officers, a nice looking guy about her age, stepped forward. "A raccoon, Ms. Clayton. It must have injured the cat outside and then followed it in through the pet door to finish the job."

"A raccoon?"

"Yes," Officer Fabin said. "It must have been shocking to see that this morning."

Monica gave a nervous, relieved laugh. A raccoon. Of course. She felt a bit flushed. "I'm sorry to call you out for something like this. I was so startled."

"No problem, Ms. Clayton." Officer Fabin gently let down the plastic bag. "Take care."

Monica squeezed her hand. "Thank you. I will. Really, I'm sorry to bother you."

The officers left. Monica retrieved her shovel from the garage and buried Scrunch in the front planter near the rock where he liked to sun himself. She cried a bit saying goodbye then went inside to clean up. The police had cleaned up everything except a few brown stains on the carpet. After scrubbing away the stains she showered then made some tea and decided to use the remainder of her day off lost in a good novel.