Sand left his bicycle leaning against the fence that bordered the address he had been sent to. A police car was parked outside. He walked up the path to the front door, which lay open. Giving the door a cursory knock, he entered the house.

‘Hello,’ he called out. There was no answer but he heard voices from further back in the house. Walking through the hallway he saw through to the kitchen. There sat a frantic looking woman being gentled consoled by a female police officer. Sand nodded as he entered. The police officer motioned him to the back door which lay open. Sand moved past the distraught middle-aged woman with tear-rimmed eyes, who didn’t seem to notice him.

Outside another police officer stood over something on the ground. Sand recognised him.

‘Afternoon, Håkon.’

Officer Håkon Berg turned round at Sand’s approach. ‘Anders, what have they sent you out here for?’

‘That’s what I’m about to find out,’ Sand shrugged.

‘Well, see for yourself.’

Håkon stepped aside and Sand saw the familiar colour of deep red blood pooled on the patio slabs. In the middle of it was a pulpy mess of black fur and skin. The cat had been sliced open along it’s stomach. It’s intestines lay around the empty skin, small white bones scattered among the remains. The four paws had been positioned to spread-eagle the cat in a star position. The head had been decapitated and lay a foot from the body.

‘Nasty,’ Sand commented. He had never been a lover of cats and having seen human bodies in various states of torture and dismemberment, he took the appearance of the cat in his stride, without a misstep. ‘You a cat person, Håkon?’

‘No, Anders. Seen anything like this before?’

‘Not with a cat,’ Sand replied.

‘Think it’s anything other than kids?’

‘Not sure. The fact it’s been killed and left here gives us trespass, breaking and entering, animal cruelty. Best alert the Animal Protection Alliance and get them working on it with a police liaison. Get a couple of people to interview neighbours. See if anyone saw anything or any grudges or feuds between them and the owner. What’s her name?’

‘A Ms. Brit Moen. Forty-two, lives here on her own with six cats. Well, five now I suppose.’

‘Get a statement from her. Let me see the reports when you’ve done all that. If nothing suspicious crops up we’ll leave it to the Animal Protection guys.’

Sand took a last look at the dead cat nestling in the middle of it’s own blood, organs and bones and walked back into the house. Ms. Brit Moen was vomiting into the kitchen sink. The police officer was holding back her hair and rubbing her back. Sand left them to it. He picked up his bicycle from the front of the house and began cycling back to the station.

This is part three of my A to Z Challenge 2017. More information on the challenge, and other stories and blogs taking part in it, can be found HERE.

Throughout April I  hope to publish a section a day, relating to a letter of the alphabet, which in the end will make up a continuous story, all based round the objects found in this children’s jigsaw:

Other entries in the challenge, and a version of the final complete, joined up story can be found here: A TO Z CHALLENGE 2017.