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A New Case. Chapter 12

Firstly, it's Sunday Selfie time.... 



We are joining The Kitties Blue, from The Cat on My Head blog, for the weekly celebration of blogs and bloggers from across the world and across the species.


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Here is this weeks selfie.....






This weeks selfie is purely and simply me......



To see what all my pals are up to this Sunday, please click the links below...

I hope you will have time to stop by and enjoy this weeks chapter, and to leave a comment below.....

And now, it's Story time!

(Chapter 11 can be found HERE.)







Ever looking to make some easy money or not earning what he was paid to do, Anders, the security guard, strolled from one end of the second Floor to the other. He should have checked the side rooms, windows and doors, but he never did. It was the same for every floor, and saved time and meant he could have a long nap somewhere warm, between rounds. The phone call he'd received some time earlier was from the store manager. It was as much to check up on him as to remind him to double check and feed and water the animals. He unlaced his boots and slipped on a pair of comfy slippers he'd brought from home. He should have worn, as he described it to his mates down the pub, 'girly pumps' to keep the floors from getting damaged. Instead he preferred, he said, a man’s pair. In reality he had brought in the slippers his aged mom had given him for Christmas, with a Rottweiler’s face on. Unbeknown to him, and much to his moms secret delight, they only served to make his feet look like a clown's.

Since it's installation, the Companion area, or 'Pest area' as he called it, had become his favourite place for a nap. He loved to watch the snakes and spiders as they hunted and killed their food. So much so that he’d take a live mouse from one of the cages and toss it into the snakes and watched its struggle and inevitable death, with sadistic glee. He wouldn't bother feeding the rest of the animals, it was beneath him, and his job. That was something, he told himself, that real men didn't do, along with housework and making meals. Anyway, what was a few hours without something to eat? In the wild they'd last weeks. This evening was payday, and he was adamant he'd have a drink of whiskey a cigarette and his sandwich in peace. Then he’d see if he could tempt one of the bigger snakes with a chinchilla. Or maybe a rabbit, after all they wouldn't miss one of those things, they breed like rabbits anyway. Chuckling at his own joke, he stuffed a limp white bread ham sandwich into his mouth, sending a squirt of ketchup sauce down his chin, uniform and onto the floor between his feet.

The wooden chair he sat on had been carefully positioned with its back to the wall, so it was out of sight of the main shop floor. He was however close enough to the ventilation shaft so that when it came on, he could have a smoke undetected. He stared at the spider in one of the vivarium, a tarantula. Its brown and black furry legs and body moving slowly to stalk, then attack and devour a live cricket. The mewing of a kittens in the storeroom, reminded Anders of something, but not to feed them. Instead he remembered he had to make a call to a pet dealer. With any luck, he thought to himself, the guy could come and go under cover of the crowds for the Royal visit the coming morning, and nobody be any the wiser.

He had successfully kept them out of sight for the last few days since he had taken them from the ninth-floor room. He hated the ninth floor, gave him the willies, all dark, dusty and cold. And whilst he should have gone there every night, he never did. In fact he wouldn't have been up there but for having to check on the engineers as they installed the extra ventilation controls. Having heard the kittens calling, and finding nobody in the meagre work area, he'd bundled them up into a refuse sack and taken them down to the 'pest area'. He'd recognised that they were different and, as he said to his pal, 'not your usual moggy'. In his eyes different meant rare, and that meant money, something he couldn’t get enough of. He reasoned, should anyone have asked, it was his right and just deserves to take 'em. After all they shouldn't have been there so he was acting as pest controller for the store, something he wasn't paid for. Also, as his crooked logic went, if he sold them he was giving the runts a home and the money he got was nothing more than a re-homing fee and in lieu of wages.

The warmth and gentle bubbling sounds within the aquarium area, and the whisky, soon had him asleep, his peaked hat slid down over his eyes. The slimy processed ham in his part eaten sandwich, released from his grip, slipped to the floor with a splat.

The peace and quiet of the room was shattered as Erin, the mesh, and the spider thudded yowled and clattered to the floor. Anders had lurched forwards from his sleep on hearing the racket, and seeing the loose cat in front of him leapt forwards to grab it. Fate, and a large amount of irony, had other plans, and introduced his slippers to the ham slices and the ketchup. With less grace that an overweight one legged duck trying to walk on ice, he went headlong towards the storeroom door. In a last ditch attempt to save himself, he grabbed at one of the glass tanks, but only managed to pull it over and hasten his knockout impact with the door. As the dust and debris settled, the normal soothing sounds of the area returned. Had any of the occupants been bothered they didn’t show it. One, in-fact, was actually quite pleased, as it made good its escape!

Landing on her feet, albeit with a hefty thud, Erin instantly spun to flee to safety but was confronted with Anders slipping and stumbling towards her. She darted right then left then back again to avoid his flailing arms, the whole scene looking like some very strange human dance. Luckily she managed to duck left just before he crashed into the glass tank, and then thudded into the door and knocked himself out. Despite the menacing feeling she got from looking at his stubbly, sauce splattered face, Erin couldn’t at that moment help but feel sorry for him. She prodded him gently on the wrist with her paws, and feeling a strong pulse, decided that he was OK to leave on his own. She stood still for a moment, taking in the sounds, listening for footsteps, but heard nothing but a small click. She turned and saw the storeroom door slowly open, pushed by the weight of Anders body against it. Curiosity took over, and jumping over his arm that was in the way, she walked slowly into the room.

Up above, Esme awoke with a start, as the sounds of the chaos beneath echoed up to her now alert and twitching ears. The clattering and tinkling of glass soon subsided, leaving the gentle whirring of the fan, and the mixed smells travelling to where she sat. Fearing for Erin's safety, she edged her way through the duct until she came to where Erin had fallen through. Peering down, the scene beneath her was not a happy one. The guard, it seemed, lay slain by the tarantula that was slowly walking away towards Anders cap, picking its way across the shattered remains of it's home. Of Erin or the kittens, however, there was no sign, no matter which way she looked.

The draught from the fan ruffled her whiskers, and drew her to look at the slats and the room that lay beyond. Amidst the smells from the pets below, and the cleaning supplies, came the smell of kittens. My kittens, she gasped at the realisation that she had found them, and also that she had almost forgotten their smell. She had to get across to the fan, and the knowledge of their presence drew her towards the edge of the hole in the duct. It was a jump that in any other circumstance than to protect others, she wouldn't have done. But could she now? She faltered at the edge, her trembling front paws curled over the metal lip, and then with gasp, she leapt the abyss.

Erin stood in the half lit room, surveying the contents and trying to filter the various strong smells that were making her nostrils twitch. She had back home, never been one for cleaning, and was rather pleased when Mrs Hudson had arrived and taken charge of that side of things for her. There were however two things she did like about cleaning. The first was when they retrieved all the catnip toys that somehow ended up under the same sofa. The second and by far the best, was when she got to chase all the spiders and real mice that Mrs H disturbed with her broom during the annual spring-clean. There was however no sign of mice in here, only order. The white shelving held an array of new cleaning supplies; bottles of bleach, polish and bars of soap that had been lined up like toy soldiers. The floor was the same, with regimented lines of mops and brooms against the wall, and a singularly neat stack of metal pails beside. Even the twin-packs of toilet paper had been regimented, stacked on their sides in alternating rows of pink and blue, the printed labels at the end all perfectly level. Clearly a military mind at work here, or a good housekeeper like Mrs H, she mused.

She inhaled deeply, and could smell them now quite clearly, and urine too, but she still couldn't see them. She tried to follow her nose but the fan was now drawing all the aromas upwards rather than towards her. After checking the floor area, she turned her attention to the shelving and a low cupboard that sat to one side, beside a tool bag. The bag smelled of grease and oil, but contained no clues, or anything interesting to play with, had she the time. A mewing sound drew her attention to the top of the cupboard, but try as she might, she couldn't in the sparse light make out what was there. Jumping was not an option as she was stiff from the fall, and also, there was no way of telling what, if anything there was to land on when she arrived.

The ladder, she thought. Of course, the obvious was in front of her. Its wide wooden treads and the slope from leaning against the wall were perfect for a cat to climb up, and down. Without further ado, she sprang onto the second rung and ran up till she was level with the top of the cupboard, some seven feet off the ground, and found the large cardboard box that occupied the space on top.

The mewing started up again, this time in earnest as the kittens within the cardboard box, half sensed and smelled Erin close by. A small paw came through one of the holes in the box side, followed at another hole, by the nose and whiskers of another kitten. Erin lent over as far as she dared and sniffed at the paw and purred as it reached out and touched her whiskers. It brought back mixed feelings about the kittens she'd had, some years earlier, out of wedlock. They had become her life and joy, but also a massive burden as she struggled to enough food to keep them alive in the cold cruel world on the streets. Moving up a rung on the ladder, she was able to look into the box itself.

"Thank the goddess Bast they're alive!" she said out loud, but then in a sad and quite voice added. "Oh but they look so small and frail. I will have Mrs H send you and your mom some of my roast beef, just as soon as we get home. That will make you big and strong, just like me." The three kittens had huddled together in one corner and looked hopefully at Erin. They were, she thought, a bit young to enjoy the delights of cat nip. But needs must and so she pulled the white nip mouse from the harness, the one she'd been saving as a treat, and dropped it for them to play with. It would, she thought, keep them occupied, and allow her to have a think about what to do.

A dull thud and scrapping of claws caught her attention, and she looked up at the vent. Whilst she couldn't see anything in the darkness she heard Esme's voice calling her, and a scraping of claws on the metal slats. Jumping back onto the ladder, she quickly got to the largest and top step. "Esme, is that you? I can't see you but I think we can still talk whilst that fan is running."

"Erin, oh thank goodness you're safe, and you found my kittens too!" exclaimed Esme, who had her face pushed as far as close as the slats would allow. "Is there any way you can get them out?"

Erin looked around her and the floor beneath and then back at the kittens. At thirteen weeks, these three were so very small they looked like only seven weeks old, so weight wasn't an issue.

But, there was no way she could get them to jump down on their own especially as they didn’t know her. Even if she could, the box was probably too high for them to climb out of unassisted. If she jumped in from the ladder she wouldn't be able to jump back out with the weight of a kitten in her mouth and not have a fall and get hurt. Nor was there a ledge to jump onto elsewhere. Worse still, if she landed badly in the box she ran the risk of the box toppling over and sending them all crashing to the floor. "Esme, I really don't know. It doesn't look good from here. Our entire plan will come crashing down if we can’t do this now. I bet that guard will move them if we leave them till later when Mrs H is here."

Esme started to sob, and her whiskers drooped lower than they had been when she visited Erin at home at the palace. To be so near and yet so far from her kittens was heart breaking. Erin could do nothing to comfort her, and felt utterly useless. She wished dearly she could get her a tissue, in fact there were dozens of soft blue and white rolls beneath them that would have done, had she been in the room. She looked down at the packs of rolls, piled neatly on their sides, and then at the box on the shelf, and got a sparkle in her eye!

"Esme, I have a plan."


To be continued.........

Will Anders medical insurance cover him for injury caused by ketchup and ham? Did the small spider escape, or did Erin eat it as a snack? AND more importantly, what sort of plan could Erin have, and should we be scared and call 911 now? Join us next week for the next exciting chapter!




This post first appeared on Erin The Cat, Princess, please read the originial post: here

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A New Case. Chapter 12

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