A WHODUNIT

The king size bed has new linens. Sorry, who has linen linens any more? The king size bed has high count cotton sheets, top and bottom. On that rests a soft, brand new rose colored blanket, two king never-slept-on pillows inside swirley, whirley patterned rose and blue cases.

All the lavish spread requires is warmth, coziness. That piece de resistance is the king size hand knitted afghan that seems artistically tossed along the foot of the bed, but I don’t know who tossed it there. Nor, can I imagine who left her old lined brown leather gloves in the middle of the bed. It looks like hands are still in them.

My cell rings. Neither the ID or the female’s voice gives me a quick clue as to what I am about to hear. ‘Sergeant, look under the bed.’ Slam. I do. All I see is darkness so I feel my way up to my shoulder. There is nothing but carpet. I repeat this on the other side of the bed. Something feels wet. Quickly I retract my hand and it is blood red. From the bathroom towel rack I grab a clean towel, use it to turn on the faucet and wash off the blood. Then I turn off the tap with the towel and dry my hand. It looks like I left a drop of blood under one fingernail. I call my precinct for back up, go down to my squad car for my heavy duty flashlight.

I walk carefully on the side edges of the stairs and bedroom floor, kneel down on the right side of the bed and turn my flash on. Something small and shiny stands out. I leave it for the lieutenant to retrieve. No sirens wailing, 2 squad cars pull into the driveway. The officers don’t bother to go inside. Joey yellow tapes the front door and Lou does the patio entrance. They put on latex gloves, duck under the tape, enter the foyer and climb the stairs. I tell them immediately about the cell call and instructions to look under the bed. Joey takes my flashlight and spots the shiny thing, too. We can’t move nor lift the bed and can’t crawl under either. While we try to figure out what to do next, we search the house. Nothing unusual glares at us. There is no visible sign of blood, gun fire, food on the table, foot prints on the carpet, except ours. There is no alarm system, broken window and no body.

Lt. Olsen photographs everything. A crew arrives with a special vacuum cleaner and goes over the entire house. My cell rings again. The ID caller number is different but the voice is the same, ‘Find the cat.’ Slam. The voice is gone.

What cat? I begin canvassing the neighbors. No one has seen or heard anything unusual. Yes, the Blakes have a cat. They are on vacation so most likely their cat is at their vets. A call to Simpson’s Cat Sanctum tells me the cat is not in their care. We are still at square one.

‘O.K., Men. Three of us on each side of the bed. On the count of 3, lift the bed together, take 3 steps toward the window and lower it. I think I can reach the shiny thing and we can check out the blood splatter.’ It works perfectly! Using small forceps he gets the shiny thing into a plastic bag. We all agree it looks like it came from a beer can. The blood must have come from the missing cat. It must have crawled under the bed to escape the monster that was after him. It was too late. Deep bite marks are clear to see.

We learn the next day that the vacuum contained rottweiler hairs as did the blood. Forensics was able to find tiny blood droplets from the front door to the bedroom that ended in the pool under the bed. No neighbor has a rottweiler.

We have partially solved this case, but have yet to figure out how the dog got into the house, why the cat had not been left with the vet, and who knew about the cat murder and tipped me off. My cell rings again. I have to report PDQ to a double murder scene at Sonny’s Super Market on 8th Ave. Sirens screaming, I head there.

At the next morning briefing for all officers, Head Honcho, Captain Ross, announces, ‘Men. The Blakes are home and they have explained almost everything. Their maid had a key and was to come by every day, feed the cat, clean its litter box and lock up. They believe she did everything except double check the door. The lock is tricky and she knew it. They fired her. Be advised, the Cat Case has been organized and boxed. It now is in the storage room under ‘Cold Case #1128, just in case you ever get curious. Dismissed.’
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