The Cat Hunter

by Krishna Ahir

  "Well no, but I just thought it was strange."

  Byron reached down absent-mindedly and picked up his mug of tea, only remembering too late that it was almost ice cold. "Look, you want to work this on your own time, fine. I'm not going to be the one to stop you. Just make sure it's actually on your own time. You know how the Detective gets when it comes to stuff, he doesn't think is important. Not to mention, Grand Stone Bay is outside our jurisdiction."

  "We use Grand Stone Bay crime labs for almost all of our cases. Not to mention, we always work with their Police Department."

  It was at that point that Byron realized he wouldn't be able to argue with Drake any more about the matter. He was going to continue to investigate it, no matter what he said to him. "So, what exactly did you need my help with?"

  "Annabelle's sister still works as a receptionist in Parks Veterinary, doesn't she?"

  "Mhmm?"

  "Give her my number. Tell her to call me if they get any injured cats. Anything that seems suspicious."

  He knew where Drake was going with his train of thought. "You think someone's killing all of them."

  "It's just a theory. Honestly, I hope I'm wrong about it, but it doesn't hurt to cover all of my bases."

  Constable Drake Gregory pulled into the parking bay of the petrol station just off Rosefield high street. The dark rubber wheels of his neon green and white police cruiser rolled over the Tarmac, grinding down on the gravel embedded in the treads.

  Walking from his car, he snatched up a copy of the Times from the newsstand; readily avoiding the neighboring issue of the Mayfair Star. Walking inside the store, his shoes squeaked against the dull linoleum floor as he traversed the aisles. Paper still clasped underneath his arm, Drake picked out a tub of fruit and a sandwich from the refrigerated shelves, before making his way to the register.

  Meeting him with a bright smile, the cashier greeted him cheerfully. At around forty years old, her neatly groomed blonde hair held a few flecks of grey that caught the light. Crow's feet extended from the corners of her eyes, betraying her friendly attitude. In her younger years, she may have been considered quite pretty.

  "Morning Drake," she said, slowly reaching out to scan his items.

  "Morning Elaine. Not very busy in here is it?"

  "It never is at this time of day. Eleven in the morning isn't exactly rush hour."

  "I guess not."

  Drake's eyes creased slightly as he smiled. A kindly man of thirty-eight, the signs of middle age were slowly beginning to creep onto his face. Mousey brown hair clung to the top of his head in a thin crop, offsetting his deep brown eyes.

  "You seem distracted?"

  "I was just thinking... Things have been too quiet recently. Not that I'm complaining, it's just I get a bad feeling about it." Drake placed his large hands on the counter in front of him and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

  "I think you need to take a break, get your mind off work."

  "Is that right?"

  "I'm free Friday at seven."

  "Well, aren't you a bit forward today?" He broke into a grin.

  Elaine met Drake's sarcasm by leaning forward against the counter and smiling back. "Helps me get what I want."

  "Well I can't exactly say no now, can I?"

  "I should hope not."

  Drake laughed and lifted the food items in his hands in a half wave. "I better be getting back to work now."

  "Uh-uh." She pointed to her lips. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

  "Oh, how could I forget?"

  Leaning over the counter, Drake planted a quick peck on her lips before making his way out of the shop and waving at her through the window.

  Elaine Gregory stifled a blush and laughed under her breath. After ten years of marriage, he was still as charming as when they first met. Granted his hair was thinning and he had packed on a bit more weight around his mid-section, but she still found him every bit as attractive as she did in her youth. He was still tall, dark and handsome. The thing she loved most about him was his broad shoulders; the way he held himself.

  Beginning to busy herself behind the counter, Elaine rearranged the packets of cigarettes displayed on the wall behind her. In front of her eyes, the multitude of colors threw flashes of rainbow colors over her dark pupils.

  She started to think of ways that she could help take her husband's mind off work. The train of thought soon elicited a slight giggle, in response to some of her naughtier ideas.

  Drake had always been that way. When work was particularly quiet was when his mind worked the hardest. Elaine guessed that it was his way of staving off boredom. He couldn't stand having nothing to do.

  There was a dull hiss as the erratic doors to the shop swung open.

  Sighing to herself, Elaine returned her attention to the counter.

  Christopher sat in his class staring across the room at the door. The sounds of pens scratching against paper scraped through his head, numbing him and drowning out the subtle sound of the clock at the front of the room ticking away. Every so often a mutter would rise out of the silence as two students quietly spoke. The sound of a chair slowly scraping against the floor suddenly pierced through the atmosphere as someone readjusted their sitting position.

  As he broke into a soft sigh, he allowed his mind to wander across Eric's soon to be party. Despite his earlier reluctance, Christopher was beginning to look forward to it. While he wasn't old enough to legally drink in a bar, at seventeen years old, he really enjoyed the drinking and party atmosphere. He'd been to enough house parties to know that much. The only reason for his earlier hesitation at saying yes to attending was due to an occurrence at a previous similar event.

  He was suddenly snapped from his daze by the feeling of something tapping against his shoulder.

  Glancing to his right, Christopher was met with the smiling face of Georgina Bell. She was a short girl around five feet three, with honey blonde hair. Her fringe was parted perfectly, framing her neatly plucked eyebrows and clear grey eyes.

  "Hmmm?"

  "Are you going to Eric's on Thursday?"

  "I should be, yeah." He kept his voice low, so as not to disturb the other students working around him.

  "That's great. I haven't seen you out in so long."

  "I've been hiding," he replied, slightly laughing.

  "How are you getting there? I live down the road from him, so if you want you can come around my house after the class on Thursday. Then we could go together."

  "Usually I'd love to, but I can't. My family's away right now, so I need be at home to feed the cat. Plus, Barbara already said she would take me."

  "I can't believe you just blew me off because of your cat." Georgina began to laugh.

  "Hey, it's not my fault. If my family were home, we wouldn't be having this problem."

  "Well at least I get to see you there."

  "Do you know who else is going? Besides Eric and Barbara, obviously."

  "You know what he's like. Eric's probably invited half the junior college. Odds are, almost everyone and anyone would be there."

  The bell signaling the end of the lesson began to ring, the piercing sound rattling through the air. Roused from their semi-silent study, Christopher's fellows began to pack their belongings into their bags.

  "Hey! Hey! The bell doesn't dismiss you; I do!"

  The History teacher, Mr. Mandrell, placed himself between the students and the door. A tall, yet surprisingly frail man, his hair shimmered pale white, drawing even more attention towards his naturally red face. Two small and round blue eyes peered from beneath his stout brows. White saliva clung to the edge of his lip; a side-effect of his diabetes medication.

  Several the students began to groan and protest the situation.

  "Looks like we're going to be here for a while..." Christopher sighed, leaning back in his chair.

  "Don't sound too disappointed about having to spend more time with me." Georgina chuckled, however Christophe
r sensed something serious behind her words.

  "You mean to tell me you'd prefer to sit in this class, instead of going to lunch with your friends?"

  She pulled a comical face. "Maybe."

  "You're weird."

  Georgina smiled and glanced out of the corner of her eye at him. Peering through her dark lashes, she studied Christopher's profile. His skin was clear, lacking any form of bump or blemish. The faint signs of stubble clung to his cheeks and chin, having grown since his shave the previous morning. Muddled hazel eyes, flecked with tinges of brown, were set into his attractive face, beneath a light brown pair of eyebrows.

  The feelings that she felt towards him were difficult to pinpoint. While it may have been closer to infatuation than genuine feelings of love, Georgina undoubtedly felt herself strangely drawn to the young man who sat beside her. An issue that she often came across, however, was that she was unable to figure out just what, (if anything) Christopher felt in return. Behind his quick-witted and charming attitude, he was increasingly difficult to read. As a result of this, Georgina had spent endless hours reliving their conversations over in her head, in a vain attempt to discern his feelings.

  Christopher interrupted her brooding with a question. "So, do you think Ida is finally going to try it on with Kirk? On Thursday, I mean."

  "So, are you implying she needs to be drunk to try it on with him?" Christopher's reference to her friend earned a slight laugh from Georgina.

  Christopher merely raised an eyebrow, suggestively.

  "Okay, you may be right about that. Well, she better does is all I have to say. She's been crushing on him for so long, if she doesn't do anything about it, I'm going to kill her."

  "Wow that is a bit extreme."

  Laughing off the remark, Georgina pushed her hair behind her ear.

  At the head of the class, Mr. Mandrell had finally relented and allowed the other students to leave. Rising to his feet and joining Georgina in laughing, Christopher slung his bag up onto his shoulder.

  "So where are you going to be spending your lunch period?"

  Without even hesitating, Christopher responded. "The same place I always do."

  "The grass bank by the Science rooms?"

  "Got it in one."

  "Well, I guess I'll see you next time we have a History class."

  "So, it would seem." Christopher broke into a smile and waved Georgina off as they both exited the class and ventured down different directions in the hallway.

  Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Christopher tilted his head back as he walked. Above him, the ceiling lights passed by one-by-one.

  Having been delayed in his departure from the classroom, the hallway was relatively empty, allowing him to settle into a casual pace. As he settled into the slow tempo of walking, his mind drifted back to Georgina.

  While not entirely oblivious to her advances, Christopher still found himself unable to tell if she was being serious or not, whenever she expressed a particular interest in him. He found himself constantly second-guessing whether her advances towards him were earnest or in jest.

  Pushing his thumb down onto the back of his middle finger, he cracked his knuckle. Lifting his left hand, Christopher pushed one hand back through his messy light brown hair.

  He considered running the Georgina situation past his friends, to see if they had any thoughts on the matter. While not usually one to ask for advice, Christopher had been curious of the girl's intentions since she had first sat next to him in their history class, six months earlier.

  A positive of discussing it with his friends was that Barbara would be present. She was never one to mince words and would undoubtedly tell him straight. Add into the equation that she herself was a girl, Christopher felt confident that she would be able to help him.

  Exiting the main junior college building, he made his way across the green stretch of field immediately opposite the exit until he came to a sloping grass bank. Purposely ignoring the stairs and path to his right, Christopher scaled the incline and made his way towards the group of students sat on the side.

  "Mandrell pitch a fit again?"

  "It was pretty mild today. All he did was block the door for a few minutes."

  Lester Nelson leaned back against the turf, crossing his arms behind his short cropped black hair. His dark eyes twisted in amusement. "You remember the time when he locked us in the class and Nash jumped out the window?"

  "And when he went out to go and chase him, we all just walked out." Christopher began to laugh as he sat down amidst the group.

  "How about last year when the bell was broken and we wound the clock forwards forty-five minutes, when he left the room?"

  Lou Preston groaned and rolled onto his side, so that he could look at the others without constantly tilting his head. "Is that why you all got split up into different classes?"

  "That's why Lou and Lester got put into other classes. I had no part in any of it. All I did was watch." As Christopher spoke, he splayed his fingers against the ground and leant back.

  "You make it sound like I'm a bad influence." Lester attempted an innocent expression but soon devolved into laughing, unable to keep a straight face.

  "You are a bad influence," Barbara said, leaning her head on the shoulder of Marty, who sat in front of her.

  "What can I say; it helps me get the ladies."

  Barbara scoffed and abandoned her boyfriend's shoulder, so that she could lay back on the grass. Her dark hair spread out on the ground around her head, stark against the bright emerald grass, like tendrils of seaweed.

  As the rest of the gathered students began to talk amongst themselves, Christopher shuffled over towards Marty and Barbara.

  "Hey there, Christopher boy," Barbara said, looking up at him. "How's life been in these four hours we've been apart?"

  "Not bad. Hey… I've got a few things I wanna run by you. Get your opinion on."

  "Having girl trouble?" She began to snicker slightly.

  "You could say that."

  "Aww, look at you growing up."

  "Shut up."

  "So, this girl got a name?"

  ______________________________________________________________________________

  Sitting beneath the undergrowth that bordered the junior college field, a small domestic cat licked its paws and basked in the midday sunlight. Its tortoiseshell pattern glimmered in the green-tinged light, throwing a bright glare upwards.

  Suddenly, it's lounging was disturbed. Rolling back onto its stomach, the cat addressed the noise of something wading through the trees that lay just past the ferns. Thrown into shadow by the overhead leaves, the fence that marked the perimeter of the junior college grounds was barely visible.

  Cautiously edging towards the trees, the cat kept its centre of gravity low, in case it felt the need to either pounce or flee.

  A figure approached, stepping out into the sun.

  Reaching down, as if to pet the feline, it scooped it up and retreated into the shadows.

  Chapter 2

  Christopher Douglas lay back on his sofa, thumbing through a dog-eared paperback. He held it carefully, resting it on his fingers and turning the pages lightly. The book was so worn down that there wasn't much spine to speak of, and the print had faded considerably.

  As he finished the chapter, he shifted his position to something more comfortable. Creasing out around his body, the black leather of the couch caught the light in a bright shimmer.

  He felt restless. Distracted.

  Christopher had originally picked up the novel to distract himself and escape into fantasy. This attempt, however, had proved futile. His mind ticked over, seemingly trapped in an unending loop. His conversation with Barbara replayed over and over inside his head.

  "What, are you some kind of idiot? How long has this been going on?"

  "I don't know, since she sat next to me?"

  "And you haven't figured out that she likes you?"

  "I just thought that's what she
was like. Y'know, like she was joking with me?"

  "For six months...? Damn. Well one thing I have to give that girl is she's persistent."

  Placing his book down onto the low coffee table, Christopher folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. A warmth spread through his limbs as blood rushed into his muscles and dispelled the beginning traces of pins and needles.

  Reaching down over the edge of the furniture, he felt around for the downy fur of his cat; attempting to find distraction in the feline. As his fingers brushed against the pelt, the sensation elicited an aggressive hiss from Crystal. Glancing down at his pet, Christopher took note of the cat's temperament. He could practically hear it telling him to fuck off.

  Cats confused Christopher. One minute they could be your best friend in the world, however at the drop of a hat they could turn on you, leaving you a broken husk, complete with matching claw marks. He never was quite able to wrap his head around why. He remembered Barbara telling him once that she thought it just meant that they were honest with their emotions. That, unlike humans, if they didn't feel in the mood for anything, they wouldn't smile past the discomfort they would quickly and readily make it known. Christopher, however, had pointed out that there was no need for them to be such little bastards about it.

  "You know, if they were any bigger, they would probably eat you. Fuck, you hear about it all the time: some crazy old bitch tops it alone in her house, and the cats make a meal out of her. Literally."

  Remembering Lester's words elicited a small chuckle from between Christopher's lips.

  Despite being confused by them for the most part, Christopher liked cats. They were low maintenance and required nowhere near as much attention as something like a dog. Dogs were practically small children, what with their constant need for attention and companionship. He also enjoyed that, all things considered, cats were jerks. Cats could always tell when someone either didn't like them, or was allergic, and made a point of climbing all over them. Christopher respected that. If someone doesn't like you, then fuck with them, just to spite them.