The second extract from the forthcoming book
Chapter 2 – Wednesday, 28th February – 7:30 am
Colin Knowles had showered after going for an early morning run. He was about to eat his breakfast when the fight started. Although the cat’s bowls were at the opposite ends of the kitchen, this hadn’t stopped his male cat, Freddie, attempting to eat the food of his female cat, Gemma. Freddie had tried to barge his way past Gemma and she had swatted him over the head with her paw. He yowled and swiped at Gemma, who moved out of range, before jabbing Freddie in the chest. Freddie fell backwards into the bowl of kibbles. He miaowed and ran off towards the lounge. Gemma stared after him before delicately eating the spilled kibbles off the floor.
“Who needs a hoover when you have a Gemma cat,” said Knowles to himself. He turned around to see where Freddie was. His cat was sitting on the back of the couch looking out into the garden, pretending there were no more kibbles he wanted to eat.
“Are you OK, Fred?” asked Knowles walking over and stroking Freddie’s head. Freddie started to purr and decided to go to sleep, answering Knowles’s question in his own inimitable way. Gemma meanwhile was playing with a kibble, swatting it around the kitchen in a kitten-like way that Knowles had never seen before.
“I suppose cats must also produce adrenaline,” thought Knowles as he started to eat his breakfast whilst watching Gemma knock the kibble under the fridge. She gave Knowles her ‘what are you looking at, human’ stare before eating a few more kibbles from her bowl and trotting off to sleep on her favourite dining room chair
Knowles was just eating a piece of multi-grain toast when his phone rang. It was Sergeant Mills.
“Are you sitting down, Inspector Knowles?” he asked.
“Mmmm yes, sought of, perched on a barstool arrangement, why?”
“I have some bad news for you.”
“What? Who is it?”
“Well, it’s the lady who you were speaking to yesterday.”
“Which one? Not the Florist, Marigold?”
“No, sir, not her, I mean the bookshop lady, Anne.”
“…really – she’s been…”
“Yes, Inspector,” replied Mills.
“How?”
Julian Worker Fiction Writing 