New chapter it took like forever to write but I'm really pleased with the result. Plenty of action and violence flavoured with a little Munku/Misto sappiness!
WARNING: contains swearing and violence and murder and some meantion of suicide.
I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths to try and release the tension in my body. Did it help? Not really. I could've had an entire bottle of sleeping pills and it wouldn't make a difference. Inside the building I could see four maybe five cats leering over another figure that must've been about a quarter of their size. I ground my teeth. This was just a taste of what went on behind the closed doors of the Satan's Saints clubhouse. One of the toms hauled the victim up by the scruff of his neck while another cracked his knuckles in preparation for "justice".
'not yet' I thought to myself 'just a few more seconds'
The tom was fighting back against his abusers. He kicked the kneecap of the one that was holding him and managed to wriggle out of his grip. He made a dash for the door but a biker with an over grown mullet grabbed his shirt and wrenched him back.
'Few more seconds'
The mullet biker held the tom's arms behind his back while another delivered a hefty blow to his stomach. The tom cried out in pain.
'Now!'
I sprang up from my hiding place and charged inside, closely followed by an assigned team of policemen, the special ops, and a commander from MI5. The toms were pinned face-down by the policemen while the special ops checked them over for explosives and weapons. I headed for the mullet biker hoping that the tom in his grasp was okay, only to find that said tom was strolling towards me while his biker counterpart was groaning on the floor.
'What took you so long Munkus? I thought that I was pollicle meat there for a second.'
'You were fine Cori and you know it' replied. Coricopat's an expert at street fighting and a great cop to boot. It was a common joke among the policemen that the day he was in trouble was the day of the apocalypse. Cori and I walked over to mullet cat who was glairing up at us as someone cuffed his hands.
'One of these day when I'm out' he growled 'I'm gonna smash you and your little police friends to a pulp. I'll bet my life savings on it.'
'Now now' tutted Cori 'you don't want to waste you money, you're going to need it for the hospital bills. I've broken at least three ribs and cracked a few more you know.' Mullet could only hiss back.
Just then a shout was heard above the general noise that brought the party to a sickening halt. 'Fat Al's getting away!'
We all rushed outside just in time to see an overweight figure rounding a corner and disappearing into the night.
"Victor, to the side!" I yelled and tore after him. My my collage Victor went pounding round to the other side of the block in the hope of cornering him. I was fitter than Fat Al and covered ground rapidly but could not see him on the sparsely peopled lane. At one point I thought I spotted him but it turned out to a Siamese hooker. Honest mistake.
All too soon I caught sight of Victor coming towards me empty handed. "Hey Straps" he panted "there was a side ally the way I came. The jammy git* must've slipped through there."
"Balls" I cursed "Why couldn't he just play nicely and let us arrest him for once?"
"Cause he's never manly enough to face us fair in square"
"Hello boys" purred a voice that was not quite smug.
We wheeled around only to see Cassandra leading and overweight man in handcuffs. Trailing behind the pair was another female cop acting as a rear guard.
"I spotted the side ally before we started the raid and when Fat Al did runner so Pepper and I decided to go check it out." Said Cassandra pulling Fat Al forward by the ear. Of course you boys knew about that gap already didn't you?
"Course we did Cassy" I replied, "thanks for collecting him for us."
"You guys won't be locking me up" grunted Fat Al "you never have and you never will."
Fat Al did have a point. His hard-core team of heavily corrupted lawyers had so far succeeded in keeping him out of prison. But even if Fat Al did get let off we still had quantities of evidence that would one day be used in front of a jury that didn't t buy his alibies.
Cassandra merely tugged his ear sharply and led him off to the waiting police vehicle.
It was nearly six O'clock by the time we'd left the building. By then the December sky was pitch black. I'd had several invitations from the officers to join them for drinks but I declined and started my car.
Fifteen minutes later I'd pulled up in front of the house that belonged to my Uncle Skimble and Aunt Jenny. The sound of noisy voices filled the air with the washing machine and sports newsreader stepping in as an accompaniment. Above the general hoots and shouts I could hear glasses clinking togethers and cutlery rattling adding a steady percussion to the welcoming symphony. I entered the house and kicked off my shoes. Someone small galloped into the hall and spotted me. I was caught.
three
tw-
"Daddy's home!" shrieked Jemima as she barrelled into my waiting arms closely followed by the rest of the gang. They squashed me into a Munkus-sandwhich and five voices all compeated to try and tell me about their day. I was gradually steered into the kitchen where Jenny was pulling dinner out of the oven and Mistoffelees was pouring drinks.
"Hello Munkustrap sir" he said pouring out a glass of apple juice
"It's Munkustrap no sir about it" I called back as I was swept towards the living/dining room of the house. Misto grinned and turned red as he spilt apple juice over the bench top.
Jenny waved at me with her tail and called out a cheerful "hello dear, don't forget to wash your hands this time."
"Yes Jenny" I said with mock meekness and turned to the bathroom. Skimble walked passed me carrying a bottle of very familiar amber liquid.
"Skimble" I groaned "not scotch again"
"Yes scotch again" he replied with a shake of disapproval "how could ye ever get tired of it ye ungrateful nephew of mine."
"Because ye ungrateful nephew will be safe from Jenny's tyranny" I retorted before heading towards the sink.
Three minutes later and I was sitting at the dinner table inhaling the scent of roasted chicken and gravy. As I ate the tension that was gripping my body slowly start to fade away. Friends often ask me how could I live in an overcrowded house with five kids (2.75 above the average) without going completely insane. The truth is I'd probably go insane without them.
My musings were cut short by a sharp pair of elbows digging into me and Jemima plonked herself on my lap and finished off the last of my ice cream. "Thank you daddy" she giggled. I wiped her mouth and she looped her arms around my neck.
"How's your cold Jems?" I asked while Jenny, Plato and Vicky cleared away plates.
"Better now, Misto says I can go outside tomorrow!"
"Already?"
"Yup!"
I was walking over to the couch when I was knocked over by two multi-coloured blurs with identical grins. "Hey dad we posted out letters to Santa today!" Jerrie's tail swished excitedly "only a week and a bit left to Christmas!"
"That's great guys" I said, struggling to draw breath with two seven year olds on my chest "what did you two ask for?" Teazer giggled excitedly and poked her head over he brother's shoulder.
"A trampoline" she said "and a new PlayStation game, and a whoopee cushion!" Jerrie blew a loud raspberry and the twins rolled around laughing. I smiled to myself knowing that the latter two items were safely stored away in the loft along with the other presents. Our yard was too shrubby to fit a trampoline in it but we'd gotten something else that we thought would suffice wrapped in newspaper and placed carefully in the loft.
ACDC's Highway to Hell suddenly blared in my pocket. I sighed and pulled my phone out, the screen told me it was 'Boss' calling. I silently prayed that it was a prank call and answered. "Hello this is Munkustrap"
"Straps we need you in a car and on the road pronto" A familiar voice ordered
I frowned "What's happened Dad?"
"A lawyer named Elizabeth Maclaby, the one that does the domestic violence cases, was found dead outside her house. Some S.O.B shot her in the heart and strung her to a tree." Deuteronomy paused and I let lose my string of question."
"Any witnesses?"
"No"
"Has the scene been isolated?"
"Yes"
"Did they cut the body down?"
"No thank goodness"
"Were any weapons found nearby?"
"A handgun that has ten years' worth of rust on it"
"Why me Dad?"
"Because, my son, I know I can trust you to bring this case to a conclusion"
"You flatter me dad"
"Good boy, now here's the address"
Twenty minutes later I'd arrived at the murder scene and was badging my way through the crowd. Eventually I spotted the corpus delicti and for and instant the breath froze in my chest.
Elizabeth's body was swaying ever so slightly in the December breeze. The tree branch creaked harshly with the regularity of a pendulum. Her finely tailored suit was torn and stashed across her chest and along her pants. One particular cut that made my blood curdle was a long one cantered right where her trouser legs met.
"Picquerious pervert" I muttered turning away before I brought up my dinner.
Along the footpath the spots of blood splatter started out as spots which gradually out into streaks as the splatter went further away from where the victim was shot. About six feet in front of the blood was gunshot residue indicating where the murderer stood during the shooting.
And of the murderer himself? His hairs, fibres, fingerprints or weapons…
There was nothing.
At 11:27pm I staggered back home fighting the urge to collapse on the shoe pile and sleep there. While taking a warm shower I massaged my temples and did my best to pull myself together. I was trained to solve cases like these with little to work on. The lab would piece together what happened in Elizabeth's last moments and hopefully unearth something of us to work with. Until then we could go through her old cases, lawyers made lots of enemies right? I It would all work out… somehow.
Padding out to the kitchen I spotted a faint glow coming out of a laptop. A small figure wearing rectangular shaped glasses was sitting behind it. I smiled
"Hey Misto" I said trying to hide the wariness from my voice "how's the coursework coming on?"
My attempt at sounding chipper failed completely and Misto merely adjusted his glasses to study my appearance. In an instant he was by my side and pulling up a chair for me to sit on. "You alright Munk? You look awful."
"I feel awful" I groaned sitting down in the chair gratefully. "There's this knife happy guy, or girl, or whatever and my head hurts trying to make sense of it."
"What happened?"
"You know the lawyer Elizabeth Maclaby?" I asked plonking my butt in the chair next to his.
"Not personally, but yes"
"We found her body hanging from a tree"
Any other person would have inched away from me at these words. People who know nothing about life on the streets often distance themselves from people like me who deal with it on a daily basis. Misto however was not one of these people and after two years of living under a cop's roof he was able to take homicide and the gristle that came with it in his stride.
"How'd she die?"
"She was shot through the heart, although whoever did it had tried to make it look like a self-hanging. Officers are saying it was a staging* tactic albeit a pretty poor one."
"What do you think?" asked Misto
"I'm not sure" I relied massaging my temples "somehow I don't think this guy would be contend with leaving us a sloppy decoy. If he was to cover it up he'd be much more careful."
"You mean, he deliberately made the cover up sloppy?" Asked Misto wide eyed.
"Exactly" I replied "though as to why he did so, I have no idea"
"How did he try to stage the scene?"
"He strung her by her neck in a tree, like the way they used to hang people, and then he threw a paper bag over her head. But it was still obvious that she'd been shot, there was way too much blood for it to be a hanging. And when we took the bag off, she didn't look shocked or angry or anything, just, surprised… oh don't know Misto, it doesn't make sense."
Misto nodded unassumingly "Would you like a drink?" he asked.
"Please"
He returned with a can of larger which I gratefully accepted. I hadn't meant to start rambling, really I hadn't, but sometimes with difficult cases like these I would collect a pile of baggage that I wouldn't even know was there until I can home. Griddlebone had called it 'post-traumatic stress to unload on spouses' disorder'.
"Am I disturbing your work?" I asked anxiously. He shook his head.
"I needed a break anyway; it's a pretty tricky assignment"
"How's it coming along?"
"I'm just touching it up a little. Proof reading, you know…"
"Your assignments never stop do they?" Misto grinned and shook his head
"Nope. One of these days I'm going to turn into an assignment I swear." I chuckled and took a sip of larger, it tasted satisfyingly bitter.
"One day we'll go to the beach and do squat-all for an entire week" I decided taking another sip
"When pigs fly" retorted Misto.
"You're on." I stood up and stretched. "I'm hitting the sack"
"Big day tomorrow?"
"As always, night Misto"
"Goodnight Munkustrap."
* jammy is an english term meaning you've extremely lucky
*staging is a forensic term for making trying to fool the police into thinking that something else happened e.g. a murder made to look like a suicide.
R & R if you feel so disposed