Slip Alley V

A British Blue cross cat
with Russian jade green eyes
fiddles with loose change,
looking up periodically at Ollie
who swirls malted whiskey
in a crystal glass.

Ollie’s mobile rings,
the melancholy bars
of Moonlight Sonata,
he answers gruffly,
another murder,
this time a woman
strangled with a silk tie
on a train, forensics already there.

He drains his glass, pulls on
his battered Burberry,
pads down the apartment stairs,
two flights on rubber soles
avoiding the boards that squeal.

He drives along the sulphur highway,
mizzle turns to driving rain,
wipers slap in time to Bach.

His left eyebrow twitches,
he replays the scene
sifting details,
the John Doe prone in the lane
leaking blood,
the woman with the sex toy lips
watching on,
curtains billowing
through an open window
and the shadow stretching
from behind the corner…

He shrugs to himself,
no rational connection between
a gunshot and a strangulation,
yet his eyebrow itches
and his cat was flipping coins.

Ollie sees the train, pulls up
under an old oak. The scene
resembles a supermarket car park
sans the trolleys.
He gets his notebook out
and crosses the crime scene tape.

11 thoughts on “Slip Alley V

  1. Shades of Poe…and that cat…I agree with Peter…is Ollie up to the job? Or will the cat solve the murder? oooooooo! next installment, please!

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