Alfie Cat Detective: The Case of the Missing Pilchards
Author Rachel Wells shares a brand new Alfie the Doorstep Cat short story, exclusive to Substack.
It was a rainy, cold afternoon, the sort where darkness sneaks into the sky prematurely. I was at home with my son cat George and our friend, Pickles the Pug. We were a little bored, not being able to go out and see friends, as we liked to do. I am a very sociable cat after all.
‘Can we play hide and seek?’ Pickles the pug asked. George raised a whisker at me. Pickles loved this game, but he hid in the same place every single time - under Claire (our owner’s) bed, with his bottom sticking out. But it usually gave us some time off from dog sitting him, as we could pretend to spend a while looking for him. And he always fell for that - but then he was a mere dog after all.
We said we’d count to whatever, it didn’t matter, Pickles couldn’t count. Off he rushed, excitedly, and George and I sat down where we were. Then I remembered. That morning, as a special treat, Jonathan (our other owner) gave us pilchards for breakfast. Pilchards are my very favourite food, honestly, I loved them. Whereas George devoured his, I was more careful. I ate half and then pushing my bowl to the back of the mat on which we were fed, decided to save the rest. I issued stark warnings both to George and especially Pickles who eats anything and everything, not to touch them. I was a very kind, loving cat - if I do say so myself - but no one comes between me and my pilchards.
I left George pretending to count - he was cleaning his paws - and off I went to the kitchen. Imagine the scene - the kitchen was empty; it was fairly dark because the lights were off and as I’ve already pointed out it was one of those dark British days. I quickly made my way toward my bowl. And the horror - it was empty. I looked again in case I had missed something but no, the pilchards were gone.
‘Yowl,’ I cried loudly, then again. This was not possible. I tried to calm myself, my beloved pilchards were gone. George rushed in.
‘What’s happened Dad?’ he asked.
‘My pilchards,’ I cried, gesturing to the empty bowl.
‘Oh no,’ he said, but did I detect a look of guilt? I wasn’t sure. However, I resolved I would get to the bottom of this.
‘Go and get Pickles, bring him here, I will question you both,’ I said.
‘Why are you speaking funny?’ he asked, not seeming guilty at all.
‘Just get Pickles,’ I commanded.
While he was gone, I went through the list of who could have stolen my pilchards. George, Pickles, of course as they were at home. But also, Snowball, my cat girlfriend had visited us earlier which put her in the frame. None of my humans were home but Summer and Toby had left for school after I had my breakfast but then that was silly as my humans never ate from my cat bowl - not since they were very small anyway and they only did it once. I don’t understand but apparently humans don’t like cat food very much. No accounting for taste.
Was there anyone else I thought as I waited to begin my questioning? I replayed the morning over again. Polly had brought Pickles round as usual, Snowball had visited, oh and George’s girlfriend Hana had also popped in… My list was growing. I did, however, rule out the humans. As I said before, no human has as good taste as us cats when it comes to food, although some like pilchards, they don’t like to eat off the floor in my experience. And when it comes to humans, I am a very experienced cat.
I took some time to re-evaluate the evidence. The bowl was empty, but it hadn’t been cleaned, so that ruled out one of the humans throwing them away. Also, I had trained my humans well to leave my food as I like to graze rather than just eat things all at once. I felt another pang of sadness for the snack I had been so looking forward to… I sniffed the bowl. It smelt of cat, but which cat I couldn’t be sure… It wasn’t me though and that was my first breakthrough in the case.
I could confidently deduce that the pilchards had definitely been stolen. And more so they had been a stolen by a cat, or perhaps a dog. Pickles spent so much time with us that he sometimes did smell a bit like a cat after all.
My current list of suspects were Pickles, George, Snowball and Hana. None of them, apart from Pickles showed the characteristics of a thief but you could never be certain.
George and Pickles entered the room. I told them to sit in front of me.
‘I have a very important question to ask you,’ I said.
‘Is it about football?’ Pickles asked.
‘No,’ I replied, ‘why would it be about football?’
‘Because I like football.’
I didn’t answer that. He is but a mere dog after all.
‘No, I have gathered you here today because a heinous crime has taken place.’
‘I told you he was talking funny,’ George said.
‘What’s a heinous? Is it a type of football?’ Pickles asked.
Honestly even the finest detective mastermind would struggle with these two.
‘A very bad crime,’ I said in Pickles-friendly language. ‘And I am going to solve it if it’s the last thing I do.’
‘Dad, can we get on with it, I mean this isn’t exactly Agatha Christie, is it?’
‘Ha, Wagatha Christie even,’ Pickles laughed. To be honest it was a good joke for him. ‘Is that a football?’
I shook my tail.
‘Exhibit one, my food bowl,’ I carried on. ‘You see that it is empty.’ Both George and Pickles peered at it. ‘And furthermore, I did not eat all my pilchards this morning, so that can only lead me to conclude that someone, some cat, or some dog has stolen my pilchards.’
‘Wasn’t me,’ George said, sounding annoyed now. He never liked to be accused of anything, even when he did it.
‘Wasn’t me either,’ Pickles said. ‘If it was I’d tell you.’
That much was true, Pickles confessed to everything he did. ‘George,’ I pushed.
‘Can I just point out master detective that I have an alibi.’
‘An alibi?’ This, I hadn’t considered.
‘Yes, as does Pickles. From the moment he got here today the three of us have been together, apart from when Pickles went off to hide and that was nowhere near the kitchen.’
‘Oh Pilchards! You’re right. I’ll have to go and question Snowball and Hana now, the shame of the rain will not stop this cat detective,’ I announced flouncing out.
I was pretty sure I could hear George and Pickles laughing as I went through the cat flap.
It was frustrating and my fur was wet. It seemed that Snowball and Hana were each other’s alibis. After leaving my house, the rain had started and so Snowball thought she would pop in to see Hana who had not long before left our house - Hana lived next door to us. And once there the rain was so heavy that they stayed in together. They both seemed to find it amusing, but when this cat detective cracked his case, then we’ll see who’d be laughing.
But for now I had nothing. The pilchards were still missing. George and Pickles were ruled out. Hana and Snowball were, unless they were both covering up the crime, the problem was that they weren’t the sort. Hana especially was so sweet and neither she or Snowball were food stealing types.
This detective was getting increasingly frustrated. I had solved a number of mysteries in my time, and I was pretty good at it - if I did say so myself, but thus far I was no closer to discovering the culprit who stole my pilchards. And I was hungry, wet and cold. I went back home and shunning attempts by George and Pickles to cheer me up I warmed myself on Jonathan’s favourite cashmere jumper. I knew I would be in trouble for that later, but I was too despondent to care. This cat needed some serious down time.
When I woke, I had a good stretch before remembering that I was in the middle of a case. I hopped down from the chair where I’d snuggled and went downstairs. Claire and the children were home, and Pickles had gone - I must have slept longer than I realised. George was nowhere to be found but the rain had stopped. It was time for me to resume my investigation.
I made my way out, via the cat flap and toward the patch of grass where my cat friends would sometimes meet. George was there, and I heard him telling Rocky, Nellie and Elvis - my other close cat friends - about my pilchards. I did not like the way he seemed to be mocking me.
‘Meow,’ I shouted. They all turned to look at me. ‘It is not a laughing matter. I saved those pilchards especially for my afternoon snack and some criminal stole them,’ I huffed. ‘And who could it have been?’ I glared at each cat, as I started pacing. Enough was enough. It was time to conclude this once and for all. I just hadn’t quite figured it out yet.
‘My first two suspects were George and Pickles, but I ruled them out as it happened, I was their alibi. I then moved onto the next suspects, Hana and Snowball because it was without doubt that they had been at the scene of the crime.’
‘What scene?’ Nellie asked.
‘My kitchen,’ I replied. ‘However, I soon ruled them out as suspects too. Which leaves me with-‘ I stared hard at everyone. I was running out of ideas and that was upsetting me. It was all so upsetting, and I was no closer to…
Just as I was about to give up, I smelt something. It was faint but distinctive. I pride myself on my very superior sense of smell after all. I looked at the cats in front of me. George, Nellie, Elvis and Rocky. I shuffled nearer to them, giving them each a good sniff as I did so. And by pilchards, I had it.
‘However, I know exactly who did steal my pilchards. The perpetrator of the worst of crimes against cats, the very worst.’ I paced some more. ‘Let’s review the evidence. Firstly, we know it had to be an outside job. Which means a cat who doesn’t live with us, and who we didn’t see visit. ‘I took a pause. ‘Secondly it was raining so the cat will still be a little wet from earlier,’ I announced. ‘And furthermore-‘
‘Dad, get on with it,’ George said.
‘OK, OK,’ I replied. ‘I can now reveal that the mystery of the pilchards is solved. And Rocky, you are the perpetrator.’
Everyone gasped.
‘No,’ Nellie said, her eyes wide.
‘Well, I never,’ Elvis added.
Rocky looked guilty.
‘OK, you got me. I can’t cope with this interrogation anymore. I confess.’ He threw himself at my paws dramatically. ‘See, I was out for a walk when it started raining. Your house was nearby so I came in through your cat flap. There was no sign of you in the kitchen and I was about to come and find you when I smelt the most delicious smell. I saw the pilchards in the bowl and I couldn’t resist. It was calling to me, I was weak, I was so weak. I ate them and I felt so guilty that I ran and got wet. It serves me right but oh Alfie I am sorry. Can you ever forgive me?’
‘Oh, he’s very sorry, bless him,’ Nellie said, giving him a nuzzle.
‘You have to forgive him,’ Elvis implored.
‘At least they weren’t my pilchards,’ George said, unhelpfully.
I knew that I should forgive him. He was my friend. But pilchards… But then I was such a kind cat, could I really hold a grudge? No, I could not.
‘Friendship is more important to me,’ I said. ‘I know you are sorry, so I forgive you. But next time just tell me.’
‘Yes, so we don’t have to listen to the world’s best ever cat detective all day,’ George said.
‘Wow, you’re so right George,’ I gave him a nuzzle as it hit me. ‘I am the world’s best ever cat detective.’
Alfie’s Club
This edition we are featuring Moonlight (Moon). He is 1 year 7months old and he came to live with his human family at the age of 9 months. He came from a local cat rescue centre. The reason he is called Moon, was because his favourite human friend spent much her of time during lockdown, Moon gazing with her 19 year old cat, Barford.
Moon is curious, energetic and full of fun. He scales the oak wardrobe in the bedroom like a mountain climber and has no fear. One day he was spotted walking on top of the neighbours roof and he managed to climb in to the "cat proof" bird feeder somehow. (shown the photo below)
Every day Moon likes to visit the neighbours two rabbits and sits on top of the mesh of their run watching them. During the Summer months, he kept climbing on top of the garden parasol and balancing precariously. He loves life and finds joy in everything.
He is such a good cat, he has had to have antibiotics twice, caused by bites from a neighbours cat, and he takes them straight from his human families hand. No other cat in the family has been this agreeable, usually this was a two person job: one wrapped the cat in a towel, whilst the other opened their jaws to put the pill in. Moon really is a very special boy.
New Release: Leo Moon Astrologer Detective - Aries Billionaire
By Rachel Wells with Jessica Adams
I’m excited to announce the release of Leo Moon Astrologer Detective: Aries Billionaire narrated by Oliver Chris today, 23rd November, only through Audible.
In this, the first in the Leo Moon Astrologer Detective series, Aries billionaire Mike Kirby is celebrating his 50th birthday on his remote island with his unhappy wife, handpicked guests, a Blood Moon Eclipse and...oh and of course a rocket launch as billionaires are known to enjoy in their spare time.
A coma and a murder later, it’s down to astrologer Leo Moon to uncover the truth.
Join Mike, his wife Renee, her sister Rachel and Rachel’s husband Neil in their glamorous world of swimming pools, horoscopes and deadly secrets.
Link for Leo Moon Astrologer Detective at Audible UK
Omg Rachel I just loved the short story I’m ill atm with a kidney infection and it really cheered me up thank you so much x