Guest posts

The Neighbourhood Watch by @Sgc58

/

While I obsess over every tiny detail of the next Mayhem book (releases within two weeks), I’ve got a special treat for you. My guest needs no formal introduction. The amazing Sally Cronin is here! Grab your favorite beverage, and enjoy.

Welcome, Sally!

Thank you so much Sue for inviting me over to share this short story and I hope your readers enjoy it. 

The Neighbourhood Watch

The marmalade cat with golden eyes leapt with ease from the wooden fence separating her home from the neighbour’s garden. She had enjoyed a salmon supper and, with a full stomach, looked forward to a night of exploration in the immaculate gardens of the wealthy estate where she lived.

Unlike other cats who roamed this upmarket area of the city, this cat was not interested in loitering in the daytime beneath bird feeders, or tucked into the bottom of a privet hedge waiting for the unwary sparrows and starlings to offer an unexpected snack. She was far more interested in the human inhabitants behind the walls of the houses. They were clearly visible through the windows of the brightly lit rooms overlooking their manicured lawns and landscaped borders.

They assumed they could not be seen by humans at the rear of their large houses; rarely drawing the expensive blinds and drapes to hide their activities from the world. Little did they realise human eyes were not the only ones interested in their private lives.

The feline voyeur worked her way across the first five gardens with athletic ease, using conveniently placed furniture or compost bins to leap up and over walls and fences. One or two houses were occupied by dogs, patrolling the gardens and going about their business, but they had respect for this marmalade cat who had an impressive left hook with claws at the business end. When they saw the flash of golden eyes on a moonlit night they high-tailed it back to their houses with urgent requests for re-entry into the safety of the brightly lit kitchens.

Her destination was the last house in the row on this side of the avenue, and it held a special fascination within. She leapt onto the outside windowsill of the conservatory at the back of the house, searching the interior for the reason for her visit.

Over the last few months she had made friends with the older cat who lived here. He would let himself out of the cat flap in the bottom of the conservatory door to greet her. They had taken to sitting under a rose bush at the bottom of the garden in companionable silence except for an occasional contented purr.

Tonight she could hear loud voices coming from the kitchen, visible through double glass doors at the back of the conservatory. It was the man and woman who lived here, and as she pressed her ear to the window in front of her, she caught some of the words being shouted by the man.

‘I told you to get rid of this mangy cat, it makes me sneeze and it’s a filthy animal. It shouldn’t be allowed to be in the kitchen and on the counters. It has to go… and if you don’t get rid of it, I will.’

‘Please put Jasper down Nigel, he’s frightened. I promise to keep him out of the kitchen in future but don’t hurt him.’

The marmalade cat could tell there was fear in the woman’s voice. Having spied on this couple for several months, whilst waiting for her friend, she knew the shouting sometimes led to a more physical outcome.

The man appeared at the door to the conservatory with a black and white cat held up by the scruff of its neck. He threw the cat into the room and shut the double doors together angrily. His victim skittered across the tiled floor and smashed into one of the sofas in the middle of the room with a loud cry of pain.

The marmalade cat stood up and pressed her nose to the window pane, staring through the glass. She caught sight of her friend lying on his side on the cold tile floor, trembling with shock. There was more shouting inside the house and the sound of the front door slamming. The woman flung the conservatory doors open and rushed into the room calling out to her cat who tried to crawl towards her. She gently picked him up in her arms, ran back into the kitchen, gathering up her handbag from one of the countertops and raced from the room.

Their unseen watcher heard an engine start up, and with a sad heart she jumped down from her perch and headed back across the gardens to her own home. She rapidly scaled the fences and walls between the houses, growling angrily at any creature that crossed her path.

The next evening, in the local pub, a group of men were enjoying a game of darts and getting louder and more rowdy as the night wore on. The other patrons gave them a wide berth and drifted away long before closing time.

One of the men was holding centre-court, regaling his friends with his exploits.

‘I’ve told my wife it’s either the cat or me and it’s not coming back from the vets when his leg is fixed. All she could do was snivel and beg me to let her keep it. Not going to happen.’ He laughed and one of his friends slapped him on the back.

A few minutes later he walked across the bar and out the back of the pub where some steep steps led down to the men’s toilets. The landlord, who was getting tired of these rich but loud mouthed customers disrupting Friday nights, began to collect the glasses from the now vacant tables and looked forward to closing time. As he headed back behind the bar he heard a scream and the sound of a body falling. He raced out the back and down the stairs to find the man in a crumpled heap.

He didn’t want to touch him in case he did any more damage and raced back up the stairs to call for an ambulance. He shouted to the other men in the group that their friend was hurt and they all hurried over to stand at the top of the stairs, looking at each other in horror.

At the inquest it was ruled as an accidental death. The alcohol consumption and the steepness of the stairs had contributed to the fall, but the pub was not found at fault, as adequate notices had been posted in the area warning customers to be careful.

The police had investigated and had viewed the CCTV, both in the lounge area and the back of the premises which included the back door of the pub. It was noted that it was slightly ajar, which was not uncommon, as staff were in and out with empty crates and barrels and to have a crafty cigarette. The only movement during the time of the accident was a large marmalade cat which left a few minutes afterwards and disappeared into the shadows of the beer garden.

Following the funeral, the neighbours who had never really socialised with the couple before, popped around with meals and sympathy. The young widow greeted them solemnly with her cat, sporting a cast on one of his front legs, clasped safely in her arms.

One of the visitors, an elegant middle-aged woman with auburn hair and golden eyes held out her arms and asked if she could hold Jasper. Surprised the widow handed him over gently; careful to make sure his broken leg was supported. The cat looked up in to the golden eyes and began to purr.

Aware other visitors were looking for refills for tea and glasses of wine, his owner turned away but paused as she heard her guest whisper to her cat cradled lovingly in her arms.

‘Don’t worry my friend; he won’t hurt either of you again.’

 

©Sally Cronin 2023

 

About Sally Cronin

Sally Cronin is the author of sixteen books including her memoir Size Matters: Especially when you weigh 330lb first published in 2001. This has been followed by another fifteen books both fiction and non-fiction including multi-genre collections of short stories and poetry.

As an author she understands how important it is to have support in marketing books and offers a number of FREE promotional opportunities on her blog and across her social media. The Smorgasbord Bookshelf

Her podcast shares book reviews, poetry and short stories Sally Cronin Soundcloud

After leading a nomadic existence exploring the world, she now lives with her husband on the coast of Southern Ireland enjoying the seasonal fluctuations in the temperature of the rain.

 

Links

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Goodreads 

Blog

Soundcloud

Twitter

Linkedin

 

Sue Coletta is an award-winning crime writer and an active member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers. Feedspot and Expertido.org named her Murder Blog as “Best 100 Crime Blogs on the Net.” She also blogs on the Kill Zone (Writer's Digest "101 Best Websites for Writers"), Writers Helping Writers, and StoryEmpire. Sue lives with her husband in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire. Her backlist includes psychological thrillers, the Mayhem Series (books 1-3) and Grafton County Series, and true crime/narrative nonfiction. Now, she exclusively writes eco-thrillers, Mayhem Series (books 4-9 and continuing). Sue's appeared on the Emmy award-winning true crime series, Storm of Suspicion, and three episodes of A Time to Kill on Investigation Discovery. When she's not writing, she loves spending time with her murder of crows, who live free but come when called by name. And nature feeds her soul.

You May Also Like

Rewriting… In Cold Blood

September 18, 2016
Noir genre

British Noir by Paul D. Brazill

May 14, 2016

Writing a Yakuza Underworld Thriller

July 16, 2020

39 Comments