August 15, 2012
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2/27/10 – CSI Thornville
The call came in early on Saturday morning. Fowl play was afoot in The Forest, a sleepy suburb of Thornville. The locals were in a flap. The serial killer had struck again.
Superintendent Squish Squirrel was on the scene in minutes to begin taking twittering statements from the panicked crowd.
One pointed a trembling wing in the direction of the suet block, unable to look. Super Squish followed with his eyes. The first sign of suspicious activity was glaringly obvious.
.
The victim appeared to be an Animalia Cardinalidae, female, and in her prime. The perp had made no attempt to hide his crime, and his MO was well-known to the Super. Evidence lay scattered far and wide. He took photographs for the lab.
He asked for a team to help with an inch-by-inch search for clues. Cardinal began an intent search of the ground at her feet. Titmouse however made a sharp exit stage left, un-nerved by it all. She couldn’t cope with unpleasantnest.
Junco rose to the challenge. He was no bird brain.
But the search was fruitless. It had gone to seed, and Super Squish was getting nowhere. He offered a reward for anyone who came forward with solid evidence that would led to an arrest. Nuthatch looked like he was about to spill the beans, but apologetically changed his mind and slunk away.
Chickadee waded in and grabbed a mouthful, but said nothing of relevance. He was later to be charged with wasting police time.
The cats had got their tongues, and no-one was squawking. But suddenly, Super Squish spotted something in the snow, under the tree where the suet block hung. The perp hadn’t even covered his tracks.
Delighted at this new lead, Super Squish rounded up the Usual Suspects. They sat and sprawled nonchalantly, smirking while he fired questions at them.
Answers were not forthcoming. They held their own tongues, too. He was thwarted, and had to release them; he didn’t have a solitary piece of solid evidence. Damn cats, and their fastidious cleaning. Today’s killing was one of several which had recently taken place and Super Squish was getting nowhere. He walked into the distance, wishing he had a pair of sunglasses to put on and something profound to say, and stared off into nothing, lost in thought.
He needed someone to infiltrate the Moggie Mob. A quiet word in a likely-looking ear, and a quiet conversation took place.
“I’m your cat”“I thought you were My Cat”“Well, she calls me her cat, so yes, to her I’m My Cat. But I’m happy to be your cat. Let’s do business.”The deal was sealed with the promise of all the tuna he could eat. Super Squish got his infiltrator. The plan worked. Several days later his informant passed along a bit of hearsay. Loose lips and a boastful, “get ME!” attitude had compelled the killer to brag to his cronies. Your Cat/My Cat/Whoever’s-Cat-Suited-His-Purpose-At-The-Time told Super Squish all he’d heard. The local force quickly GOT HIM! The killer was arrested and broke under interrogation. His print matched perfectly. No need for trial, he was soon behind bars.
When the news hit the press, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Super Squish was also relieved. He needed a break, and badly. Earlier thoughts of Miami disappeared. He took a two week vacation in Exumas in the Bahamas. He’d heard tales of nudity, rum, and lobster.
Working for peanuts was all very fine. But he wanted to be shown a better time.~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Final image stolen from the net. This was a crime story, after all.
