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After Fabian Zonk once again had quarrels with Lisa Becker's cat, the two inspectors have to convict a particularly brutal murderer. A child's play, quickly done. But when Lisa is later alone at home, she learns that the man has escaped - and he knows where she lives... A short mystery story from Berlin with Lisa Becker and a little hero on four paws.
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The Cat in the Bag
A Lisa Becker short mystery
by Falko Rademacher
© 2019 by Falko Rademacher, 13597 Berlin
The characters and plot of this novel are fictitious. Similarities with living or deceased persons would be purely coincidental.
Also by Falko Rademacher
A Philip Eckstein Thriller
A Suitcase Full of Blood
American, Die
A Lisa Becker Mystery
Heads Off
Dead Beauties
The Vampire of Berlin
A Lisa Becker Short Mystery
The 30-Year-Old Man Who Fell Out the Window and Died
The Cat’s Calling
Russian Roulette
The Cat in the Bag
Content
Fabian gets hunted
Stupid Bull - Lazy Bull
Claws and teeth
Epilog
Fabian gets hunted
Chief Inspector Fabian Zonk from LKA Berlin lay naked on the couch. That wasn't very smart of him, as he should have known.
It wasn't his couch, but that of his partner in all situations, Chief Inspector Lisa Becker. She was shopping and had asked Fabian to tidy up her apartment a bit. Maybe asked was the wrong word.
»Should we ever move in together,« she had pestered him, »I don’t want to be Monsieur’s cleaning lady, is that clear?«
»You're cleaning up after your critter,« Fabian's incredibly quick-witted answer had been. When he got out of the comfy old bed, he had stretched his naked, always well trained body a little, which usually worked wonders for Lisa. Not this time.
»He always licks his bowl nice and clean, and himself too. And all the dirt he makes, he buries himself behind the bushes in the yard.«
»Well, from time to time I lick you clean,« had been Fabian's half-hearted attempt to escape his front-line duty, but the chubby commissioner had firmly resolved not to fall for the tricks of this lazy gentleman any more. Instead she leaned forward in her bathrobe and showed him a crater-deep cleavage - combined with the vague hope of a princely reward. Two people could play this game.
Out of ideas, Fabian had promised to welcome her back with a tidy living room, a freshly made bed and a full pot of tea. Lisa was skeptical, after all she only wanted to be away for two hours, but one has already seen bigger miracles, such as the rise of man to the top of the food chain. A decent, reliable Fabian, on the other hand, was at best a medium wonder of the world.
But it looked like this miracle would be a long time coming. Now the Chief Inspector lay on the couch and rummaged around in Lisa's e-reader. The woman had too many romance novels, as Fabian found. The fact that even modern, intelligent women still read this frippery was beyond him. This only gave rise to unhealthy ideals of what the man with whom they wanted to share their lives should be like. This, in turn, led to the fact that one suddenly had to exert oneself madly to undertake long trips and walks with the woman and had to pretend that one was interested in art and culture and similarly unfunny women's stuff. Fabian was convinced that women didn't actually want to go to galleries and museums, but considered it a compulsory program to simulate a fulfilled life. That is also why women buy important books from renowned authors as hardcovers and hide the trash on their kindles.
Fabian stroked himself through a rather juicy erotic spot.
[Author's note: This should mean that he turned the pages by wiping movements on the e-reader's touch screen, but you just continue with your dirty mind!]
The young, handsome and pompously equipped multi-billionaire let his hand wander straight to the breasts of the average-looking and rather stale narrator, when Fabian noticed from the corner of his eye how Lisa's cat, an ex-stray black colored and - as Fabian found - black soul, came into the living room through the cat flap of the garden door. The animal noticed the man and registered with its nose that Lisa was not at home. An unusual scenery for both parties, and the tomcat first had to think about how he could capitalize on it.
His name was Mischa, but only he knew. Lisa still called him simply »cat«, because she didn't want him with her at the beginning and only regarded him as a fence guest. After a while he had become an integral part of her life, but it was somehow too late for a name. The veterinarian had told her that this was quite common and that a dozen or so animals called »cats«, »kittens« and »fleabag« were registered in his file. Especially the latter name was testimony of how hard it was even for cat-haters to escape the charm of these animals in the long run.
Fabian looked at the cat, a little insecure, sitting there quietly staring at him. Suddenly he realized that he was naked and with unprotected genitals in a room with an animal that didn't like him very much.
And had sharp claws.
With as much dignity as he had at his disposal, Fabian rose from the couch, put down the e-reader and took a measured step towards the bedroom, where his clothes were scattered among a few used condoms.
Of course the nervousness of the man did not escape Mischa. Animals must be able to smell something like this in order to assess enemies and prey. At the moment, the cat had an advantage, and he knew that. Grinning inside, he stood up and came after Fabian.
The commissioner noticed this and felt his neck hair straightening. What was that all about? What the fuck was that beast up to?
He accelerated his steps in the hallway. Mischa also increased his speed and could already catch the man's heels with one jump if he wanted to. For Fabian, there was no point in pretending not to panic. With two large sentences he reached the bedroom door and quickly slammed it behind him. The cat was locked out.
Or was Fabian locked up? He was very angry and grumbled to himself. He had to deal with violent criminals all the time and was trained at the weapon, and here he had to let some wannabe panther scare him around. Mischa on the other side trolled towards his food bowl, where as always some dry food was waiting for him, for the small hunger in between. He nibbled the small fleshy biscuits and let these stupid green vegetables, which were in the feed mixture, fall again from his mouth into the bowl. Why that weird stuff was in there, he couldn't comprehend. The fact that there were people who believed that cats - like humans - should eat more vegetables was far beyond his imagination.
