His Own Mad Demons: Dark Tales From David A. Riley by David A. Riley

Author:David A. Riley [Riley, David A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780957453586
Amazon: 0957453582
Publisher: Parallel Universe Publications
Published: 2015-04-06T22:00:00+00:00

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It was late afternoon, and what sun there was had risen far above the factory wall at the end of their terraced garden, filling it with a pale silvery light that, if far from spring, at least held a promise that spring was on its way. Harold was having a nap in the living room, the sound from the TV turned down so as not to disturb him, when Alice heard a sharp retort. She knew straight away that it had come from the back of the house, though she was not sure what it was. She did know the source of the screams of pain that followed it, though, in the alley.

She hurried out of the kitchen door and was at the backyard gate within seconds. Even so, the cat’s cries had ceased by the time she got there, its chest still panting, though only just. Her face blanched as she saw the drops of blood on the side of its large, round, ginger head.

With some help from her husband a few minutes later Alice bundled the cat’s body in an old blanket, then carefully laid it in a canvas bag that Harold used whenever he went fishing, which was rare enough these days. The Vets on Croasdale Road opened at 5.30, and she rang to make an appointment. Even though the cat was dead, Alice insisted on taking it to be examined.

“I want to know what killed him,” she said. “And what caused that blood on the side of his poor old head.”

It didn’t take the vet more than a few seconds to inform them that the ginger had been killed by an airgun pellet.

“Fortunately the poor creature won’t have suffered long,” he told them. “Either a good shot or a lucky one. In any event it entered the brain. Would have killed it almost straight away.” The vet scratched the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you saw who did it?” he asked.

“I mightn’t have seen whoever did it, but I do have my suspicions,” Alice said, though her husband said she was jumping to conclusions. “I can’t see old Gaskin using an air rifle. It’s as much as the man can do to stand on his own two feet with the help of a walking stick, never mind aim and fire a rifle.”

“It could be kids, of course,” the vet said. “There’s always someone who thinks it’s funny to take pot shots at cats. Dogs too, for that matter. Still, if you do see anyone with an air rifle it would be as well if you mentioned it to the police. They’re hot on that kind of thing these days. It might be a cat this time, but it could easily be a child next.”

That night Alice spent some time watching the gardens and alleyway from the back bedroom window, but for all her vigilance she saw nothing suspicious. The next day she was careful to keep an eye on the two remaining cats when she’d fed them.

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