The second case for Kats PI!

Tuesday September 7th 2004

I just thought I'd keep you all up to date with what's been happening.

Since my little adventure with the lovely Dale (who says hello and thanks for all your support), things have been really busy.

I studied hard to get my private investigator licence, and managed to pass the test with flying colours (the colours in question being puce, canary yellow and taupe). Basically, I was given a plot from an episode of 'The Professionals' and told to re-enact it with the aid of plasticine and pipe cleaners. Then I had to solve a few brain teasers and explain exactly why I wanted to become a private dick (so to speak). I think my answer really impressed them, centring as it did on the use of obscure martial arts (I have a black belt in origami) and a McGyver-style ingenuity to get me out of any tight spots. The examiners also had a glowing recommendation from Dale, which I think helped too, though I think the lavender-scented notepaper was taking it a shade too far.

Anyhow, I'm now official and working on my first real case (I can't afford a desk yet). Last night, just as I was shutting up shop, I received a phonecall from a mysterious stranger. I think it was a man, but his voice was quite muffled, so I couldn't be completely sure. He seemed very anxious, so I kept things to the point and asked him how I could help.

He asked me to meet him in level 3 of the local Safeway's car park, a den of iniquity if ever there was one. So, at the appointed hour, I picked my way through the discarded cartons of Ribena Extra (for kids who want something a little stronger) and cigar butts (we're very upmarket in this neighbourhood you know) and waited just by the trolley park.

Sure enough, out of the darkness loomed a looming figure. 'My name is Mr Loomis, and you, I presume, are Kats, PI.' I answered in the affirmative, and the figure proceeded to describe what he wanted me to do. I slapped him, as I'm not that kind of girl - and anyway, pink pvc aprons just don't suit me. He apologised for being so forward, then revealed his real reason for asking me to meet him. It turns out that he's being blackmailed by a filthy blackmailer. He wouldn't say what the blackmailer had on him, but he did hand me some of the notes he'd received, along with one or two rather interesting pictures of Barbara Woodhouse in the nude.

I gave him the photos back, as they really weren't going to help my investigations. The notes looked like your bog-standard blackmail notes, though the paper was interesting. It had a faint odour of pickled onions mixed with exhaust fumes, with just a hint of eau de cologne.

I told him that I'd have to take them away to study them (I've just taken delivery of my CSI forensic action pack so I'm all set) and we went our separate ways.

I've got the notes at home just waiting for my investigations to continue. I'll let you know what I turn up.