Two Cats and a Chicken Shop Mystery

By Conny Jansky

The action kicks off in a chicken shop in Madrid where Consuelo, a 62-year-old widow, finds herself confronted with a mysterious face that suddenly appeared on the floor of her shop. Is it a religious apparition? A plot by the poultry mafia? Or even a ghost? And could a peculiar change in her cat’s fur have anything to do with all of this? Her unusual encounter lets her embark on an unexpected journey full of shocking surprises, startling twists and astonishing discoveries. With her dark humour and keen wit she tries to reveal the truth that lies beneath the face, which in turn leads her to one of the most extraordinary unsolved mysteries in contemporary Spanish history. But was she really meant to uncover the secret? Is her quest guiding her into a dangerously new direction that could change her life forever?

Two Cats and a Chicken Shop Mystery is a funny mystery novel, whose simultaneously amusing and compelling story leave the reader flabbergasted from its opening pages to its stunning finale. It is a fast-paced and intelligent reading experience that takes a sly satirical look at some of the most abnormal phenomena through the eyes of a very normal character. At the same time the story combines a variety of real-life events, both past and present, in Spanish history which places its subtle plot in a more than relevant current setting. The page-turner with real world investigation puts the genre of arcane thrillers into a humoristic, yet convincing new scenery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Conny Jansky
• Release date: Dec 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301371297

Conny Jansky

Conny Jansky was born in Austria where she studied International Development Studies as well as Business Informatics. After living and working in several countries, she moved to Madrid, Spain, where she has been living since 2009.Arriving at one of the hotspots of financial turmoil, she was inspired to write her first novel 'Two Cats and a Chicken Shop Mystery' which was published in 2012. The story recounts real events from the peak of ‘la crisis’ and fuses them with fictional references to Spanish history and contemporary mythology that were inspired by research on sociology of miracles. The Spanish translation of the novel, 'Dos gatos y el misterio del Mercado de la Cebada', was published in 2014.Her latest work takes up George Orwell’s famous 'Animal Farm' (1945) and continues its plot as a historical review of modern industrial societies with a sarcastic interpretation of the myth of perpetual growth in the context of the ongoing climate crisis and mass extinction of species. 'A Donkey’s Diary' was written in free-range conditions and published during the coronavirus quarantine in spring 2020 from where the author is developing her next story on social change during times of historic transformation.

Book preview

It had been an eventful few months and it was apparent that the country was in crisis. Since May, young people had been marching in the streets out of frustration with their current situation and uncertainty about their future. The worst month was August 2011 which was when the so-called ‘crisis’ that began three years earlier reached its peak. But it was not just Spain that was waiting for a miracle.

Maria Consuelo García Gómez, or simply Consuelo as most people called her, was a sixty-two year old widow from Madrid. For the last thirty-four years, she had been working at the Mercado de La Cebada, a traditional food market in the centre of town. Although she was not exactly pleased when they announced that she had to work another five years instead of two before she could retire, she did not really have any plans for this new phase of her life either. The market gave her the routine she needed and she wondered what she would do without it.

Unfortunately, business was not going well and there were rumours that the market could soon be demolished. In that case, she really would not know what to do. Not only Consuelo, therefore, was waiting for a miracle – a miracle that was about to happen.

~~~~

Saturday, 6 August 2011

The first Saturday in August was the first day of a week-long celebration dedicated to Madrid’s patron, the Virgin Mary. The celebration takes place in one of the city’s most historic neighbourhoods, La Latina, which is where Consuelo worked. Generally, she cared little about these celebrations but this year she hoped they would have a positive effect on her dwindling turnover.

Consuelo was neither exceptionally tall nor small; neither was she fat nor thin. She was probably average. Wrinkles appeared around her eyes from an early age but one could tell that was because she smiled a lot. Like the average Spanish female of her age, appearance was important, but Consuelo tried not to show off by any means. She usually dressed elegantly but discreetly. The most important aspect of appearance was her hair. Although her haircut could also be considered average for a Spanish woman of her age – short and permed – it was all the more challenging to make an effort. Once a month, Consuelo scheduled an appointment at the hairdresser’s to either have her hair cut, dyed or permed. Her natural hair colour was dark brown but by the time she turned fifty, it was entirely grey, which is why she started to dye it blond. It was obvious that it was not her natural colour but she persuaded herself that no one would notice.

8.38 a.m.

That Saturday she got to work a bit earlier than usual and was one of the first shop owners to enter the market. She went to her stand that still carried the name of her deceased husband. Her beloved Pedro had passed away eleven years ago and since then, it was his photo which kept Consuelo company in their little poultry shop. She undid the shop’s padlock, rolled up the shutter and switched on the neon lights that gave it the inviting ambience of an x-ray room. However, that was mainly because the chicken delivery still had not arrived and the empty metal display case was shining in its sterility. She went to the small room at the back of the shop and put on her white work coat.

While waiting for the delivery she decided to read the free newspaper which she usually picked up on her way to work. It took her about five minutes to read Twenty Minutes, as the paper was called, and dedicated the rest of the time to Sudoku.

8.52 a.m.

The delivery man arrived with one tray of whole chicken, another with legs and wings and a third with an equal amount of breasts. Although Consuelo had worked in the poultry business for more than thirty years, she still could not figure out the mathematical logic of a constantly higher demand for chicken breasts than for any other parts of the same animal. What happened to all the remaining less popular parts of the chicken? Something else Consuelo never understood was the linguistic usage of the word ‘turkey’, which in colloquial Spanish refers to one monetary unit: One euro equals one turkey. Consequently, one animal turkey would cost roughly thirty monetary turkeys. Sometimes she wondered if this odd exchange rate could be the reason for her relatively bad turkey turnover lately.

Come here, Sergio, she said to the delivery man. Let’s put all the trays on this side of counter for now and I’ll arrange them later.

The market area was square-shaped, Consuelo’s shop having a corner position. Being L-shaped, it was only accessible from one side and whilst Sergio followed her round to the corner of the counter, she suddenly stopped.

Three trays of chicken parts in front of his face made it difficult for Sergio to see where he was going and he immediately careered into Consuelo’s back, almost dropping his load.

Oh my God! she shouted.

Oh, I’m terribly sorry, señora. I didn’t see you! Are you okay?

Err, I’m okay. She paused for a moment. Err, listen! Why don’t you put the trays over there?

She pointed to a place near the entrance of the shop. Sergio peered over the trays to see where she meant.

Is everything all right? he asked.

"Yes, yes, everything’s fine. It’s just that I forgot that that part of the counter still needs some more cleaning. So it’s better if you put the trays over there. Sorry for the inconvenience."

His delivery made, Sergio departed. Consuelo stood behind the counter and gave him a royal wave and one of those toothpaste-commercial smiles, made brighter by the reflection of the neon light through the perfectly clean metal showcase in front of her.

She watched Sergio walk through the market. Some other shop owners were busy opening their shops and arranging their deliveries, something she also needed to sort out.

Suddenly, Consuelo froze on the spot.

She could not believe what she had just seen. She dared not look down. Was she actually standing on it? The thought made her heart jump.

After a few seconds, she stepped to the left. She took a deep breath and stared down at the floor again. And … there it was.

A face! On the floor in the middle of her chicken shop!

She looked up again, stared into space for a while and then looked at Pedro’s photo.

Oh my God! she said.

What was it? Who was it? How long has it been there? Was it there when she came in this morning or had it appeared right now? Had it actually appeared out of nowhere or had someone put it there? If so, who and why?

What on earth was this thing? she thought.

9.12 a.m.

She knelt down slowly on the floor and took a closer look at it. The image was not something that, with a bit of imagination, you could turn into anything you wanted it to be – like the shapes you see in the clouds, or like an ice cream that, with a gust of wind, suddenly transforms into a fighter jet – or even Elvis.

This was a human face!

And certainly not Elvis’s.

Consuelo moved closer to the face and stretched her hand above it. She had to admit that she was quite fascinated by its appearance but still did not dare to touch it with her fingers. She kept her hand a centimetre in the air and moved it slowly over the surface of the face. Her nose nearly touched the floor. It looked as if it had been painted on the floor but she could not tell for sure.

It only had one colour: white. As the shop’s floor was dark grey, nearly black, it was a black-and-white, or rather white-and-black painting. However, she could not see any paint strokes. Was it only visible to her? she thought.

Excuse me? a voice said suddenly.

She fell on her face. On the face – with her face.

I’m sorry, am I interrupting anything?

Consuelo quickly stood up. Her little accident had not caused any visible damage, although her hair was not really the way it was supposed to be but that would only be noticed by a trained eye.

The eyes that stared at her were clearly short-sighted, but familiar nonetheless. They belonged to señor Rodríguez, an elderly man who usually came by on Wednesdays and Saturdays to buy his chicken breast.

Ah, señor Rodríguez, it’s you! How are you? No, no, you’re not interrupting! I was just looking for my earring on the floor.

But you’re wearing both of your earrings!

She touched her ears with both hands and felt embarrassed.

Ah, look at that. Must be one of those days!

He moved his glasses back up on his nose and fell silent, which made Consuelo feel even more embarrassed. Señor Rodríguez had been coming to the market for at least ten years but he had never been a big talker. He would simply order his chicken and pay with the exact money. Although she would have liked to have a longer conversation with him one day, today was not the day and she was quite glad when he left so she could continue her close-up analysis of what was below her.

9.23 a.m.

Once again, her plans to inspect the face were thwarted, this time by Lola, Consuelo’s most loyal customer, or rather visitor and self-declared gossip queen of the neighbourhood. Lola was probably a few years younger than her but Consuelo could not exactly tell. The way Lola dressed certainly made her look younger than she was.

Did we open up a little late today, Consuelo? Lola asked. At this point, Consuelo took the opportunity to start arranging the chicken in the display case.

Well, Sergio was late, that’s why. How are you today? And what’s new? Consuelo knew that Lola had a special gift for spreading unconfirmed rumours at the slightest opportunity so she took care to act as natural as possible.

Everything’s fine. Well, you know – the usual things. We aren’t getting any younger, are we? Are you okay, my dear? You seem a bit distracted?

This woman did not miss a trick.

Just a bit stressed as you can see. I’m hoping for a good day for sales, she said.

I’ll keep my fingers crossed! So, have you heard that Susana’s daughter from the fruit shop is pregnant? Susana is, of course, very happy. But between you and me ...

Consuelo loved that expression because in reality nothing ever was only between anyone and Lola.

I wouldn’t be so sure that Susana’s son-in-law is, in fact, the father of that future grandchild of hers. A few months ago I saw her daughter at one of the pavement cafés around here with some other young man and they didn’t seem too unfamiliar with each other, if you know what I mean?

I think you have a rather vivid imagination, Lola. And apart from that, that’s not really any of your business, is it?

Well, I’m only telling you what I saw with my own eyes. What you see is what you see and the rest is a question of interpretation.

Good point. Consuelo had to try not to look at the floor because she knew Lola would notice that something was wrong.

I’m leaving you alone with your chickens now, guapa. I want to drop by the church and see how the Virgin’s decorations are coming along. Let’s just hope they’ve decided on a florist with more taste than last year!

Lola laughed in her raspy voice and Consuelo suddenly froze again. Lola’s radar spotted something unusual in Consuelo’s reaction.

What is it? Lola asked suspiciously.

Consuelo swallowed and stared at Lola.

Oh, nothing. It’s just that I remembered that I haven’t watered the flowers this morning.

She smiled and pressed her hands on the counter in order to resist the overwhelming urge to look down on the floor.

Oh dear, it’s really not your day today, is it? Lola continued, letting out another raspy laugh.

No, not really.

Okay, let me go and see what Julián from the bakery is up to. Have a nice day! And don’t worry too much about the flowers. They’ll make it.

9.31 a.m.

As usual, Lola had not contributed to the unequal consumption of different chicken body parts nor had she contributed to much of anything but the verbal distribution of seemingly useless information, the content of which however, gave Consuelo an idea.

Could it be? Was this thing a Marian apparition? On the floor in the middle of her poultry shop? she thought.

Marian apparitions were not uncommon in Spain. Every once in a while, people claimed that the Virgin Mary had appeared to them in a tree trunk or that her face was identified in the shape of water running down shower tiles. These apparitions were, however, mostly only visible to the person who claimed to have seen them. In some cases, they could even develop into small businesses including guided tours to the site of the previous apparition. During times of crisis, one had to be inventive and after all, it was widely known that a strong belief in something, being a superior being or placebo, may have strong psychosomatic curing powers. Considering that Consuelo was not exactly a religious person she had her doubts about transforming her poultry shop into a pilgrimage site. She wondered whether this was a divine sign that she should become religious.

First and foremost she needed to further inspect this thing.

Was it even visible to other people or only to her? There was a chance that she had injured herself in the crash with Sergio’s chicken trays, so how could she prove that it was not only her imagination that was producing a vision?

How could she even determine whether it was actually the Virgin Mary? she wondered.

That day was the first day of celebrations for the Virgin so she concluded that showing up at her party somehow favoured the Marian apparition theory.

9.56 a.m.

She checked to make sure nobody was looking and disappeared under the counter again. She looked at the face from further away than before. Slowly it became clearer that it could not be the Virgin Mary. Firstly, and most significantly, it had a big bushy beard, or rather a goatee including the upper lip moustache part, which twirled upwards at the ends.

So if it was not the Virgin Mary, who was it?

She moved on to the next theme of religious apparitions: Jesus.

But why would He manifest himself on the floor of her poultry shop? Could that be a good thing or a bad thing? she asked herself.

She thought about those who had experienced religious encounters: Joan of Arc, burnt at the stake. The girls who saw the Virgin Mary in Lourdes and Fátima, became nuns. Cat Stevens, still makes good music. Joseph Smith Jr, founded a religion.

Her options were broad.

She contemplated whether to call a priest or an exorcist but decided for the detergent instead. For some reason she had more confidence in her Don Limpio detergent than in anything else at that moment and consequently the face disappeared almost as fast as in the TV ad, leaving nothing behind but a stain of water that would hopefully dry quickly.

11.13 a.m.

Consuelo tried not to think about what she had just seen – or not seen – and dedicated the rest of the morning to her day-to-day business which did not seem to go well as neither chicken nor turkey sales fulfilled her expectations to boost business.

At regular intervals she checked the floor to monitor the drying process of the stain which slowly but surely left no semblance of any further stains or possible religious messages.

The more she tried not to think about it the more convinced she became that whatever it was she had cleaned off must have been an exaggerated interpretation of what had actually been there.

She started to get rather worried about the status of her accountability, or rather sanity when suddenly her mobile phone rang.

Dígame! she replied in perfectly appropriate and polite Spanish.

Consuelo, it’s me! And? Are you ready for tomorrow? the caller asked and reminded her of something she had apparently forgotten.

"Ah Diego, it’s you! Ready? Well, I think so. I don’t know, is there anything special I need to prepare?"

No, don’t worry. I’ll bring everything you need. Just wanted to see if you’re still okay with it?

Of course.

Thank you so much again! I really don’t know what we would’ve done if you couldn’t take it. You know what? I think a pet is a wonderful idea, especially for you.

A few weeks ago, Consuelo’s cousin Diego had found a cat in the street in front of his house. It must have run away but although he put up posters in his neighbourhood, nobody responded, so it stayed with him and his family for a while. Diego has two very sweet grandchildren who often come to visit. Unfortunately, they were allergic to cats so he had asked Consuelo if she wanted to take the feline.

She knew that his comment referred to the fact that she spent a lot of time alone, which made her think that this could have been the reason for her vision or whatever it was she had just seen. Had her loneliness made her go crazy? she thought. Maybe a pet was just what she needed.

Consuelo? Are you okay? Diego asked after no reply was forthcoming.

I’m sorry. It’s not really my day today. Yes, I also think a cat is a good idea. When are you coming over tomorrow?

"I thought around ten. Tell me, is everything all right with you? You seem a bit