The rat and the cat – a short story of few words…

The rat sat on the cat. That was a cold hard fact. The CID man hit hand on hand and said: “Call the lab men in, we have a kill here.”

The room was dull, grey, not lit, and in the dusk he saw a pool of dark red and the haft of a dirk, half hid in the neck of the dead man. Next to him were the pets, in a pose that said they were once good pals. But they won’t play now he said in his head.

The body was pale, the head back and eyes open. A note was set on a bowl, a grey wad of pulp with just a few curt jots on it – not ink, cut by claw, with a hair set fast to the note by the damp of a wet nose. “We seek a dog” he said.

A set of damp paw pads left a mark on the path, as he left the site. He went left as they ran down the road, and then in the dark he saw a pair of cold eyes. A howl rent the air as the huge dog came from the side, its lips back and hair high.

“Time for a walk” the cop said, and the dog came to his heel, as they set off for the cop shop. He took a slim item from his bag: “I’ve got the lead I need now.”