Feed My Cat.

This story is now published as part of the anthology ‘Loyal and True’.

No matter how hard they try, they cannot hide from me.

If this were a movie, the government would be searching for me because they had discovered my ‘gift’.

It doesn’t cause me any discomfort, and you cannot tell I have it by looking at me.

I haven’t always had it, but I’ve got it now.

I can tell by looking at you what kind of person you are.

It doesn’t sound like much, I know.

 

Television would have you believe that certain policemen can tell if you are lying just by watching you and observing how you answer questions. Some say that they can read your body language, and that is partially true but not to the extent that they claim.

 

Scientists have studied policemen and body language experts and found that they are no better than you are at picking who is lying and who is telling the truth.

 

So, the next time the cops have you in the hot seat and they are shining a bright light in your eyes and telling you that you are lying you can tell them it’s all bollocks.

 

On the other hand, there’s me.

I can’t tell if you are lying either, but I will know what kind of person you are. I need to spend a little time with you and then it all becomes clear to me.

It’s like I have met you before.

I know how you will act in a given situation and I know how you feel about the people around you.

 

I’m a writer, but on the side, I do the occasional job for my friend; he’s a Detective Inspector. I owe him big time. If he had not believed my story, I would not have lived as long as I have. I try to repay his kindness by helping him out from time to time.

I like the bloke, or should I say that I liked the bloke.

I’m not completely sure, but I think I might have gotten him killed.

 

My policeman friend called me in to witness an interrogation. I need to be in the room to work effectively, so I dressed like a detective and sat in on the questioning. I wasn’t concentrating on the suspect’s solicitor, but I think I should have been because it looks like he recognised me.

 

It wasn’t hard for me to tell that the suspect was a bad guy; worse than bad.

My detective friend asked me to put the man I had witnessed into a series of situations and predict his reactions.

 

If I’m given enough time with a subject, I can predict their reactions to a given situation with 100% accuracy.

 

Something I said to my detective friend must have sent him to a particular address, and he came up dead.

 

I’m not sure if he likes being dead; probably not, but I think I’m going to find out what it feels like, very soon.

 

The person who was being interviewed was a career criminal and a very successful one at that. My friend the D.I. asked if he was the kind of person who would do his own dirty work and I knew that he would. Despite the risks, under certain circumstances, I knew he would pull the trigger himself rather than have one of his people do it.

 

I’m hoping that if I wind up dead someone will go through my computer and find this.

 

Check the bullet you found in my friend’s body with the one you take from mine and then check Victor Enselmo’s gun.

 

I can guarantee you they will match.

 

Oh, and by the way, give that solicitor a good kicking for me, will you?

Good.

 

And, can someone feed my cat?