The Case of Chet Millerby And The Missing Weevil- Chapter 4: Man Interrupted

The man took a long draught of his milk and champagne cocktail, and launched into a lengthy description of a Weevil Calling Ceremony.

He had just begun to describe the famous incantatory dance, where participants jig up and down around a circle of hot rocks, all the while chanting the words which have been handed down from generation to generation of Weevil Callers-

"Ohhh Roger Moore-oh! Ohhh Roger Moore-oh! Ohhh Roger Moore-oh!
Safari suit and a martini! Safari suit and a martini!"

- when Chet put a paw up to signal him to stop.

"Sorry", said the man. "Am I boring you? A lot of people find that's their favourite bit."

"Oh no", said Chet, "Quite the contrary. You were being most entertaining. But I think I've heard quite enough."

The man flushed, and a jolt of electricity seemed to pass through his eyes.

"Enough? But I haven't told you anything yet- not about the calling ceremony going wrong because my father hadn't brought the right Katchagoogoo mix tape, the Weevil escaping- "

Chet smiled, and twiddled his gold pencil idly. A small motto ran down the side, reading "To Chet - The only real top cat in my life XXX Dibble".

"You have told me more than enough." He looked down at his notes. "You told me about crows which how, when they clearly do nothing of the kind - they caw. You described beetroot wine as red, when it is always a deep kind of purple, or beetroot colour in fact. And you gave your father yellow eyes, when no-one has yellow eyes, apart from cats." And he flashed his, by way of emphasis.

The man folded his arms, a little belligerently, Chet thought. He was good at noticing things like that; he was after all, the best cat detective in the world.

"Are you critiquing my story telling style or my facts?" he demanded.

"Both", said Chet. "I will gladly give you a written report of my full analysis, for just £19.95, but first- why don't you tell me who you really are?"

TO BE CONTINUED...