He's a cat. He's a detective. And he's got one hell of a hairball of a case to cough up.

Catnip Gray isn't your average feline. He drinks sardine martinis, dodges psychotic dames, and tangles with alley thugs and talking rats in a city that reeks of noir and catnip. When a sultry client claws her way into his office, she drags Catnip into a case filled with secrets, seduction, and... six potentially fatherless kittens.

This madcap mystery blends pulp fiction, absurdist humor, and anthropomorphic noir in a tale that'll leave you purring for more. Perfect for fans of offbeat detective stories, talking animals, and black comedy with bite.

Catnip Gray Cat Detective is a standalone caper, ideal for readers who enjoy genre mashups and laugh-out-loud twists.

Excerpt:

Electra and I had swooned under the influence of the intoxicating air. After Fred's closed, we were a frisky pair hopping over trash cans, leaping up on fences, peering into windows, and laughing at humans' silly attempts at lovemaking. We'd scream insults through the glass.
"Really dude, more hair on your butt would drive her wild... Bite her ear you fool! Stop talking. More yowling... You call that thing a tail?"

We scampered off when a naked bear-looking man threw a house slipper at us. As we approached Tuna Boulevard, Electra suddenly darted out and an old sixty-seven Falcon sped up and sent her tumbling into a rosebush.

It wrenched my heart watching my lover in death's bittersweet clutches as the rose's thorns pierced her flesh and teased me with their red petals and seductive scents. Roses were my and Electra's favorite flower to paw and nibble. I vowed to avenge Electra's death one day.

So as I stood at the edge of Tuna Boulevard, I got my eyes out for a yellow Falcon. Been watching for it for a year -- waiting for my chance. I had all of my parakeets lined up in a row. The Falcon has a vinyl top. A crow told me he and his flock love splattering that top with a potent brand of bird poo. "It's old and soft as dog guts," the crow cawed. My plan called for me to sink my claws deep into that vinyl top and cause a lot of havoc.

I put one paw forward and stepped into the gutter when my ears picked up the whine of an old V8 motor. It sounded like a monkey with his tail caught in a meat grinder screaming a long, painful, "Eeeeeeee!" The guys at the Rat Trap Mechanic Shop said the noise meant loose belts, but the Falcon's fool owner likened the disquietude to a scream of death. He experienced many moments of perverse joy as he struck fear into the hearts of dogs, cats, and a few humans as he raced the Falcon toward their poor souls. That Falcon had to be stopped.

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• Literature & FictionHumour & SatireLiterary Humour

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• Print Length: 73 Pages
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