Fur The road was drenched in silvery curtains of rain. Umbrellas bobbed around on the pavement as pedestrians went about their day. The evening traffic buzzed with its usual chaotic rhythm, a symphony of honks mixed with rain. Mia sat on a giant platform. Humans passed by every now and then, arriving with giant brown boxes. They all wore blue coloured pieces-of-fabric on them. She did not generally like being in such close vicinity with them, but she hated the rain far more than she hated them. She got up before one reached her and slunked off, towards a giant door. She pawed her way towards it, hiding in the shadows. At last she was standing right in front of the magic entrance. She waited for the next human to pass, and followed through.
The wet platform melted away, and the floor gleamed, reflecting the thousands of tiny-suns-trapped-in-glass that hung from the ceiling. The boxes were piled in the corner of the room. Another door stood ajar at the other end. She slunked through the door.
Everything was bathed in a brilliant red light in this room. There were huge stands that hosted queer objects in glass cases. There were rotten-human-instruments and colossal-stone-humans and bones. There were more paths on either side of the room, leading to other passages, which led to more rooms that opened into more passages, in an intricate labyrinth.
Eventually she reached a room she could not bear to leave. There were huge glimmering artifacts with pattern-like-imprints-pawed into them. They threw wide glistening patterns of reflected light on the floor. Mia slunked around, trying to catch the shining-stuff-on-the-floor beneath her paws. A muffled footstep rang in the hallway, approaching the room. Startled, she ran towards a display case and crouched underneath it.
From her position underneath the table, she could see a man enter the vast room. He was dressed in blue, like the men loading boxes. Blue Man made his way to one of the display cases on the far right of the room. He then proceeded to take out a shiny-steel-instrument and do something to the case with gloved hands. Within minutes, the entire glass front came off, and he carefully lifted a small-stone-hollow-thing from it. Blue Man quickly slipped it into his pocket, simultaneously replacing the glass front. He then hurried away, taking a final swift look around. So hurriedly, that he did not notice a pair of yellow eyes staring at him from beneath the depths of a display case on the other side of the room.
***
The museum buzzed with police officers. The entrance to the ‘Egyptian Relics’ exhibit was blocked by a yellow tape reading ‘CRIME SCENE-DO NOT CROSS’. A certain glass case lay open, its contents the very cause of the commotion. Or rather, the absence of its contents, to be exact.
‘Walked out with just a vase, eh.’
“Apparently.”
‘Ran out of time, you think?’
“.....it was too well formulated for that.”
‘How’d he get hold of the warehouse timings though…the curator said it alternated between Fridays and Tuesdays depending on the arrival of the shipments, it's not like that can be called mainstream information.’
“I don't know Bonhomme”, muttered Dewan. “I don’t know.” He rubbed his hand against his throbbing temple, until the tiny cut on his finger started burning again.
Heels clattered on the floor as a figure approached them.
“Agent Dewan.”
‘Curator!’
“I believe I have something that may be of your assistance.”
Dewan shifted his weight to his other foot.
‘Which is?’
‘We just managed to depixelate the security footage of the robbery. The infra red lights had to be toned down a bit to make it clearer. I would suggest you take a look at the footage right now. ‘But of course.’
***
“THERE WAS A WHAT?!!??”
The guard flinched. Dewan and Bonhomme stood next to a fuming Curator, staring at the footage of a cat staring at the display case. The warehouse manager looked sheepish, edging behind the agents. “May we take a minute to watch the full footage properly?
The Curator turned to look at Bonhomme rather sharply, then ushered the warehouse manager outside; leaving the guard closed the door behind them.
Dewan unpaused the footage to let it play fully.
‘We don’t have much to go on….except that cat.’
“What does the cat have to do with it?”
Bonhomme paused, then said,“The glass is tinted…I asked the forensics people, they said it's a copper nitrate based pigment.”
“So…...?”
‘Well they also found cat hair on the glass case….which means our guy, whoever he is, has got copper nitrate-coated cat fur on his hands.
“He was wearing gloves.”
“That's the thing. They’re not surgical gloves, just cloth gloves. Cat hair can cause hair splinters pretty easily through those.”
“They can cause what now?”
“Hair splinters. Hair is capable of piercing skin, like a wood splinter. Which means there's a chance that he has copper nitrate on his hands…..if we were to make the suspects hold their hands above a flame, we could cause the copper nitrate to decompose to give copper oxide which is black, meaning there's a slight possibility we could identify the person. Besides, it can be proven in court.’
‘I don't think it’d amount to much Bonhomme.’
“How is it progressing gentlemen?”, the Curator said as she walked in again.
“I believe we have a lead madam. We will however need a lighter.’
“You cannot be serious.”
“Oh but I am. May I borrow one?”
Slightly annoyed, she handed him one. Bonhomme flicked it open, observing the small flame.
He turned to Dewan,“Could you hold this for me? We should go have a chat with that janitor.”
Dewan backed away a bit. His eyes were fixed on the flame of the lighter. An awkward pause ensued, upon which he took the lighter and began walking towards the doors exiting the security room.
He turned around, to see Bonhomme and the Curator motionless, staring at him. “Your fingers are black, Dewan.
Dewan turned pale.
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